A good photograph makes you want to be there. The image below is a fragment of an advertisement for a gentrification community. I cropped the image to zoom in on the party-of-four in the poster’s foreground. Do you feel like you want to join that group?
In my thoughts, I connected that photo with an unrelated comment someone made at Steve Sailer’s in a discussion about tipping-points for White schools and neighborhoods that initially see a small number of Blacks move in:
From observation I’d say a stable 5% black might be manageable in a school but 7% seems to be at the point where things start to shift slowly as they become a greater presence and some of the whites no longer like the atmosphere. The quantitative change just starts the ball rolling, slowly at first then the pace quickens.
We’ll come back to that. But first, the photo. The incongruently token Black chick is the only normal-looking person at that table. As to the White girl, your eye hovers over her but something feels off. She’s young, with nice hair and a coquettish smile. And then — the uncanny valley hits you: what is going on with her waist? You realize that you’re checking out a 25-year-old girl’s head on a 65-year-old woman’s torso.
As for our two hosts with their pear-shaped bodies, the Zuckerberg clone is a queen. To his right, fedora-boy smiles weakly, body language deferential to the effeminate alpha. If a healthy man is a bloody steak, then those two are cake batter that failed to rise.
There are no accidents in commercial photography. Everything, on down to the slant of the shoulders of a background extra, is painstakingly staged with multiple exposures taken over the course of the day-long shoot. The art director and his client had access to a wide range of models, and yet they selected those underwhelming characters. Doing so, they channeled the spirit of our time.
Question: what does all of that have to do with the above-cited comment from Sailer’s blog? Answer: the photo and the comment describe the condition of conquered Whites.
Faced with territorial encroachment, an animal reacts with a fight-or-flight response, choosing the less costly option. But because the fight-response has become too costly after Ike’s 101st Airborne fixed bayonets on American schoolchildren, Whites opt for flight. It is not a natural state of affairs. It is not a normal way to live, except for prisoners.
A homogeneous cultural habitat, secured by force when necessary, is humanity’s norm. Yet when blessed with vigorous liberty Whites can thrive even in a 95% Black environment. For example when in imperial mode, the English made Rhodesia the breadbasket of Africa and the Portuguese built magnificent architecture in Mozambique while running it as 3% of the total population. In post-Reconstruction South, old Black men tipped their hats to White teenage boys.
To drive Europeans down to a condition under which a few Section 8 voucher-holding single moms bring a community to a tipping point suggests a diabolical arrangement with images of boots on men’s necks. Through some unnatural and very expensive process, U.S. Whites had become like a body without autoimmune system that is unable to handle normal germ loads in its environment. It has to live in a bubble, its capital like an unguarded peach that anyone can bite.
The advertisement from which I cropped the posted fragment shows a large hipster-friendly pub in which everybody is White. Come see your vanilla reservation, boys and girls. And tomorrow — to the dog park! Just be ready to pack up.
“No deal,” you say because you look at that photo and you don’t want to be there. Maybe it’s the frumps. You turn your back and you walk away with purpose, to create something worth bleeding for.