How absurd will it be if the descendants of those who bled and died to make this great nation are forced to bleed again thanks to some malignant political correctness that renders them afraid to even casually remark that they have a preference for their families, their ancestry and their descendants?"

—Scared White Anti-Diversity Blogger

This is the type of trash that litters today's false dialogues. It is, itself, "absurd"; a lie, and a gross lie that says nothing about the many, many people that America has drawn blood from to maintain its haunted land, land haunted by the spirits of millions. This self-pitying quote says nothing about lies cooked up and boundaries crossed and lives taken needlessly over the years. This false frame he offers says nothing about the words engraved on the Statue of Liberty, the ones so many Americans have been proud of for so long. It washes all that away with a bit of fear. Not to mention that I hardly think the White Racists of today are "afraid to even casually remark that they have a preference for their families"!

So believe your tripe, "patriot." And know that I am fully aware of the reasons you are afraid. And I will tell you now, they may be good reasons. Yet, you cannot fend off the oncoming tide with even a billion Googleballs. It's a hard pill to swallow, I know. Try spreading some guacamole on it.

Men and women like this, they're obsessed and blind and full of fear. They boil over with it, peering under their Googleballs for news of The Invaders, leaving hateful comments in Latino blogs where they have the nerve to call the beautiful Brown races "peons;" sowing hate and division and spitting out empty misreasoned words with all the unhyphenated passion their withering frames can muster. This is the type of person who will thrash and squirm and swing pixelated flags wildly trying to retain some grip on his outdated paradigms and worldview. Sadly for him and his kind, it is a grip that cannot last. Ask the census takers. Look to California. Look to the border states. Look to me, vato.

Don't draw the wrong conclusions. If I am "itching for a fight," as this man says, it is not of the type he assumes. Sure, if he (or some other bigot) were to roll up on me in public with that bullshit propaganda, I bet you we just might throw down. I am known to run a little hot, and I do not take shit from anyone. But I doubt he'll do that. He is almost 50, probably getting creaky, and I am still in my 30s—and not only trained in martial arts, but quite nimble and quite fast. So I imagine the "fight" he speaks of has to do with keyboards and blog banners, and Googleballs.

But if a reader notices, The Unapologetic Mexican does not contain calls for Reconquista. In fact, I even took down my well-designed and well-stocked store selling Ropa por los Soldados de la Reconquista because I feared that the only people who it was meant to needle weren't quite smart enough to note that it was tongue-in-cheek, and that it was making a different statement than the one they would leave with. And I didn't want to help cause harm to any Mexican because some scared Hater couldn't grok satire, and felt like lashing back against a T-shirt that had invaded their Clorox-fresh Laundromat of Ideology.

Does he read the will to violence from my blog? Can you read what has been posted up to today and read a "Reconquista" movement from it? Or is it just that he sees corrections in fake history, celebrations of righteous revolutions in Mexican history, an angry brown face, and images of Mexican solidarity and pride?

Hater, do you see the brown faces in the pictures wearing ski masks and feel your Googleballs contract in terror? Do you not understand those are farmers behind those masks? Do you not understand the effects of your luxurious American lifestyle upon the rest of the world? And can you not extrapolate what Dignidad means, even if you can not understand Spanish? That is what the word is on that woman's mask. Not odio or guerra. Dignidad.

Let's get it straight. People like this can talk all the tripe they want about "the scourge of multiculturalism" or the "sickness of diversity," now that America has sweatshops at its disposal, Indian people answering phones across the sea, Mexicans working in degrading and terrible conditions for shit wages; shops, stores and empires built now on immigrants' ventures from years ago; brown nurses and nannies and dishwashers and gardeners and factory workers and Chinese radios in every room of the house. But there is no such thing as a pure White America, or an America that stands on its lonesome without exploiting the non-White races of the world. You cannot separate now, ese! You cannot reap all the benefits of enslaving multiple cultures to your chain gang (and some of those races literally enslaved not that long ago!), and then kick everyone out once you see that those races actually lie in bed and fuck and produce chavalitos who will study up on their history! Oh, sad little mind; O, sad little boundaries of thought that so conveniently arrange history for you! O sad, White, scared race in its throes. Giving up the crown won't be easy, eh?

I understand that my pride in Mexico and Mexicanos and Xicanas and South America and indigenous peoples around the world is utterly confrontational to the White power structure. If you know me at all, you know that I'm not one to shy from confrontation. In fact, I welcome it. Because I've swallowed enough shit in my lifetime. Now, you get it back, with interest. Because it ain't easy bein' brown in this culture. You have two choices, essentially. You can swallow the history that is fed you (fake). You can swallow the image that is foist upon you (dirty, less-than). You can nod your head with the Big White Daddy and put down your own people with your acquiesance, act against them, all in the name of Materialist, profit-motivated, war-driven, conquest-addicted American Culture. This way lies shame, and self-denigration, and success in the White World.

I'm sure that my e-colleagues will keep you informed. If you need a fix of news about restrictive immigration reform, the scourge of multiculturalism, the sickness of diversity or any other "ism" in the lexicon of the PC crowd, please visit the links in my sidebar blogrolls."

—Scared White Blogger, laying down prosaically what his blog is all about

Or you can re-educate yourself and speak out, con orgullo, con fuerte, with your brains and your voice and your passion. But know right away that there will be a very vocal faction of people who are not so happy about you speaking up and being proud of being Brown. Or of your rexamining History. As George W. Bush intimates in his words intended to discourage us all from rethinking 9/11 or how the Iraqalypse began, some "facts" are best left alone, eh? This resistance to Brown pride is where the term "Uppity N--" came from. And there is a lot of this pressure to just lay low.

But I don't lay low. And I don't leave shit alone, hombre. And I don't apologize for taking the power back. And I won't translate. I have done my time in the White Combine and nobody translated the words for me. Nobody clued me in to the truth behind the symbols of confusion that were fed me. I have spent too many years soaking up the garbage waters of Manifest Destiny-inspired rhetoric. I have found it not only lacking, but hypocritical, false, and slanted against me and mine.

I have imagined myself one of your kind, and for years was not politically active in such a way. Perhaps Francis X. Alarcón laid it bare for all to see when he said Every Méxicano is a potential Chicano. But the funny part is, Hater, you are the one who shoved me across that line. It's not my fault you blew the game! It's not my fault that you had to wake me up with all the Anti-Brown energy in the last few years. You're the one who sounded the drums. You're the ones who placed me in a position where I had no choice but to remember that I could never be one of you, never could be one of your number, never could be a White man guarding the homeland against the Brown.

So here I am. Proud, unwavering, educated, vocal. "Itching for a fight." A fight for the rights of the indigenous and exploited around the globe, a fight for the rights of the poor, for the rights of the non-White, for the rights of the Human who has been shoved down, pushed around, and sold a glory-soaked pack of rags that were only ever meant to burn his casa to the ground.

According to the Maya calendar, We have entered the Sixth Sun, El Sexto Sol, the time of Justice And of the emancipation of indigenous peoples.

sextosol.org

I do not call for Reconquista, because it is not something you can "call" for. There is no World Reconquista Office, no platoons of Reconquista Warriors, no 2006 Reconquista Agenda. I hate to be the one (not true) to break it to you, but there is simply no Reconquista fight you can engage. You cannot lobby against it, you cannot legislate against it, you cannot install border guards to stop it, you cannot outtalk it on your blog, you cannot sell Whites-Only Salsa to drown it, you cannot fence it out. The Reconquista is ethereal, like justice, like time, like el viento, like el calór del Sexto Sol. It is the love that births new life, and pride in an ancient People; it is the will to succeed no matter where we are, it is the knowledge and truth of the world and the nation that makes itself known to its children.

If you want to pretend you are engaged in a battle, sure, you can guard against the fading of the White. But no man can turn back the dawning of the Light. ¡Viva la Raza! ¡Viva México! ¡Viva Latinos¡ ¡Viva Amor! And long live all those who believe in truth, justice, and love for all humans, and especially those wrung out and ruined by those atop the pyramid. May we all live long, as well, and in harmony, and certainly with my blessing.

The rest, well...I'm guessing if they need a lift, they can play with their Googleballs.