Racial Consciousness as a Phoenix

Lawrence Murray recently put out an excellent article, written with a style and vernacular that I cannot hope to match at the moment. So I will not attempt to do so. Instead, I would like to reflect upon long dormant feelings that this article stirred within me.

I am a man of a scientific mindset. I keep abreast of the latest news in various scientific fields and disciplines, and I watch, with bated breath, as a web of infinite untapped potential spreads out before us. I listen to news of breakthroughs, of boundaries being broken, lines crossed, old edicts transgressed, and in that, I hear the song of the cosmos being sung, the music of the spheres. My heart swells at the thought of all that Man will be able to do, of walking on distant worlds, of putting an end to disease, of tearing ourselves down to the most fundamental genetic level and remaking ourselves to stride forth boldly to meet our destiny.

There is a discordant cry screeching through all of this though. The thought that we might fail. That, poised and posited on the cusp of greatness, ready to ascend to the heavens and seize eternal glory, we might be dragged kicking and screaming back into the darkness, to die an ignoble death, leaving behind only a dead world, littered with ruins, monuments to a long gone race. This fear builds up within me, always softly bubbling in the back of my mind. It keeps me awake at night, staring up at the ceiling, foul specters clawing at the fringes of my awareness.

This fear, it’s not an uncommon thing. The sort that creeps in, consumes and subsumes, demoralizes and damages hearts and minds alike. Different people have different ways of dealing with it. Some make jokes about “Black Pills,” trying to couch the pain and terror in humor and levity. Others take refuge in whatever hobby they devote themselves to, hiding from the world and all of its cruel probabilities. Others still take their solace where they can find it whether that be the bottom of a bottle, the acrid inhalation of various substances, or any other one of a myriad means of putting off the troubles of today until tomorrow.

We can ill afford these things though. Pessimism and self-destructive behavior serve the interests of no one, save for those who oppose us. Our enemies are many, and they would love to see us quench what little embers remain of our spirits, and make no mistake, if we continue to carry on with these behaviors, that is exactly what we will do, to the ecstatic glee of certain groups. Let us not give them what they want so easily.

Where, then, do we draw inspiration from? For that, we must take a look at our fellow man. Take a glimpse at a member of the general populace, and contrast the image you get with a remembrance from years recently past. Something is present now that was not before, a spark of sorts. The slow, subtle, stirring of something inside of the embers of long dormant pride. A phoenix, waiting to be reborn in a shower of fire and glory.

Trump the Destroyer, should that be the turn of events that comes to pass, will bring fire all his own, but Trump the Redeemer has already touched off a spark. There is a swelling of pride within our race, slowly but surely. No more will we allow ourselves to be beaten down, have capricious demands placed upon us, be denigrated by false accusations made towards our ancestors. The sins of the father are not the sins of the son, and we will not be held to account for them.

This Phoenix, this majesty as of yet in utero, must be nurtured if its heralded rebirth is to come. Tend to it carefully, and partake of its warmth as you do so. Stay the course. Tread carefully, and continue to win over people, as we have been doing. Let the fire swelling within the breasts of our brothers continue to spread, far and wide, awaiting the inferno that is to come.

When it rises from the ashes, we will see the final culmination of the stirrings that we are beginning to see. We will, as a race, be proud of what we have accomplished, and we will no longer tolerate false claims as to the accomplishments we have wrought. Eyes locked forward onto the future, we will stride boldly forward, into the future, to whatever destiny we choose to make. The stars await us, and we shall spread to distant worlds, until mankind has carved out his place in the sky.

I cannot say for sure whether Trump is going to be our savior, or our destroyer. I am quite certain though, that it will be one or the other, and that there will be fire either way. If he proves to be our destroyer, we will at least have good company to fiddle away with while Rome burns. If he is our savior though, the fire is already here, and the fire rises.