Eight years ago, Jamiel Shaw’s son was murder by Hispanic illegal aliens. Mr. Shaw commented on his loss in a conversation with Tucker Carlson on Fox News last year:
There’s thousands of people who’ve been murdered by illegal aliens, and raped, and child-molesters, and drunk drivers. So Donald Trump was right-on. I mean, in our community — what we call the death community — Donald Trump is speaking for us. He’s speaking for our dead.
The “death community” is American families who had lost someone at the hands of an immigrant. More recently — last week — Jamiel Shaw gave another stirring endorsement to Donald Trump at his rally in Costa Mesa, California:
Donald Trump has promised to build a big beautiful wall, literally and metaphorically. A steel and mortar wall that will separate the United States physically from invaders, as well political walls that reaffirm national sovereignty. In doing so, he is defying the neoliberal world order and its failed, false song of globalism. Trump’s foreign policy speech outlines that vision:
The nation-state remains the true foundation for happiness and harmony. I am skeptical of international unions that tie us up and bring America down, and will never enter America into any agreement that reduces our ability to control our own affairs.
There will always be walls. In any social arrangement, under any political order. The question is, which walls are raised and lined with guards — and which walls are razed. I’ll come back to that.
White people die by Hispanic killers too. Jamiel Shaw spoke about the Death Community, paying his respects to other families who had lost a loved one at the hands of an illegal alien.
White people also die at the hands of legal, deeply rooted fellow Americans. Over the past four years, an annual average of 560,600 Whites had been victimized by African-Americans, in contrast to the annual average of 99,403 in the other offender-victim direction. But that number is a statistic. It is abstract, it doesn’t burn you. It does not give you dreams about your daughter, who is gone. The number just sits there inertly in your hand like a pebble.
Yet we can’t talk about that number. We can’t talk about the plunder unleashed on us with the dismantling of walls within and around America. We can’t talk about those things because we are walled-in by the censorship of thought. The walls between our thoughts and the mute words to express them nullify the very reality in front of us. Do White Americans exist?
Our leaders fear us, so that’s a data-point toward Yes. A real estate agent has to go through a mealy-mouthed checklist of irrelevant metrics to advise you on the most important purchase you’ll ever make. And when a developer colludes with the county to construct the federally funded and mockingly termed “affordable housing” next door to you, your speech runs into a wall, paralyzed before its task of objecting to your ruin. The walled-off words are what reader Suburban_elk describes in a related context:
[R]eal concern and real vision, and from the heart, about how white people are suffering for having lost their country, and even more than that, having lost their purpose and their identity; their very soul.
May God give Jamiel Shaw peace before he ascends one day to meet his son. There is a boy named Logan Tipton I wrote about last year who would now be seven years old.
The time has come to build new walls between us and them, between the home and the wilderness, between nations so that each can live the best way it can. It is also time to tear down the walls that imprison our minds as we now more unrelentingly reach through barred windows for the severed parts of our whole selves.