In the early 2000s I was living in Brighton and walking home in the early hours one summer night walking through the South Laines down a pedestrianised Street in the City centre.

My oldest daughter and her five friends (every single one of them student athletes from good families) were staying at a condo in Seaside Park and went to the boardwalk for fried Oreos at 10:30 PM at night. They were maliciously and brutally attacked by a pack of vicious blacks. One of them dragged my daughter by her hair while the others punched and kicked her. Her friends, outnumbered and “out streeted” got much the same. All of them had their phones stolen. When the attackers were caught, we learned that all of them had criminal pasts and prior records.

For a long time, my niece couldn’t get her act together. She didn’t do well in school and was deeply troubled by a broken marriage that ended when she was very young. But her life seemed to turn around when she joined the Navy and became a well-liked Operating Room Nurse. While in the military, she associated with a lot of blacks, and eventually got pregnant with a mulatto baby.

I am a victim of anti-white racism. In May 2012, three black guys beat me up for no other reason than being white. I was called “cracker,” “honky,” “white boy,” “faggot,” and several other names before getting punched in the face so hard, I lost three of my front teeth. And for what? Nothing more than the color of my skin! And they call white cops “racists.” All I did was park my car, step out onto the lot, and suddenly I was swarmed. I did nothing to provoke them. I stood up for myself, but it was impossible for me to handle three attackers at once. Blacks always attack when they have a clear numeric advantage.

I grew up in the 1980s and lived in several different places around the US and Europe. The racially-based problems we are seeing in Europe today did not exist when I lived there, but certainly did in the US. However, that is not when I became racially aware.