This is part of our continuing series of accounts by readers of how they shed the illusions of liberalism and became race realists.

My experiences with blacks began at an early age in Detroit’s public schools. Even in the 1960s, the city’s education system was already in decline. The ordeal that us white students had to go through was harrowing, to say the least. White students did not use the restrooms, as a “beatdown” by multiple blacks was usually the result (blacks never fought one-on-one). We always tried to be in clear view of school personnel at all times in order to avoid being attacked.

Many school officials, especially black ones, were indifferent towards our “white plight.” Even back then, people used the excuse that blacks, due to oppression, weren’t responsible for their bad behavior. Of course, when black students wanted something, they got it. Such as the Black Student Unions that successfully got the American flag removed from the front of the schools and replaced them with “black nationalist” flags.

Then, as now, the black kids did not want to learn. Despite being given every consideration, and more, blacks were always disruptive in class. Excelling at education was seen as “acting white” and was frowned upon. Most of the teachers just shrugged their shoulders and let the disruptions go on. It took only a few blacks to ruin a whole class.

Only a few teachers were anything other than deferential to blacks. They were the ones who strove to shield their white and Asian students from predatory blacks, and gave us additional attention and coursework, knowing that we would excel in spite of the violent, raucous atmosphere. For them I am thankful . . . just as I’m thankful to no longer have to deal with almost any blacks in my day-to-day life.

If you have a story about how you became racially aware, we’d like to hear it. If it is well written and compelling, we will publish it. Use a pen name, stay under 1,200 words, and send it to us here.