The stories, held in common by most, are those of love or suffering. In this case, ours is the love of a suffering land and people. Our people have been debased by our rulers and many hate their own heritage and legacy.
My experience in the loving of Dixie was instilled with me at a young age by my dear maternal great-grandfather, James Atkins, who was the first person to tell me the stories of the Old South. Sadly, after he passed, the usual course of those in suburbian public schools and brainwashed by the mass-media changed how I viewed my world – the very people I knew and loved, the very land I explored and grew in, became an object of hatred and indignation. Like all that is good and true, one is drawn to love it, even if it is perverted.
Dixie is a land and people that needed to be subjugated to the American ideal, of abandoning the Lost Cause and taking up the Eternal March of Liberalism, towards the lofty ideal of “progress” and an unknown level of degeneracy – and, openness towards sin and pride. In America, we’re the butt of jokes, the boots for the blood mad Eagle, and often sold a comical farce of our very own culture. This is business as usual for the Empire. For what? To make you a withering consumer servant of woke capitalism, cannon fodder for endless wars and accept the iconoclasm and chaos of the world which surrounds you.
Theory aside, this is the experience of every man of Dixie who grows up in the ever-expanding beast of liberalism. This beast presents its science and theories as a means of triumphing over anything outdated, old fashioned, and contrary to gratification and profit. Our boys can often fall prey to the comfort and conformity of this culture – I certainly did – and by the grace of God is one delivered.
This theory of politics is one that leads one to lose himself in the old battles of the old country, the politicking of figures in a time we find ideal – from the medieval Merry England to the continental chaos of the 20th century. This can be tied up in religion or lack thereof, but mainly comes from reading too much for the head and not for the bettering of the heart.
The heart is always willing, but the heart can only be moved when pride is abandoned. This pride keeps our people tied up in the struggles of an America that no longer exists and the false causes of the Empire. The man who is interested in his people is mocked as backwards and a racialist hick, so the battles of the Empire in the triumph of liberalism are usually easier to swallow by those who are at least searching for the vestige of bravery.
By the grace of God, that which is eternal shines through the darkness – and those seeking their home usually find it where they have always been and always loved. For myself and many I know, their home was where they always loved and in what they always believed – it simply had to be explained to them. Those at Rebel Yell and Identity Dixie have done good work in promoting the love of Dixie in a way that’s simply in our blood and natural. And, in a way which is a humble bettering of the man, instead of the inflation of pride through tomes of theory and the stroking of ego. And for that, I thank them and thank God.
To win the war we fight, which is cultural, we must be humble, be brave, and heroically shine with the eternal Light of Christ in the showing of truth, goodness and beauty of our land and culture. We struggle against those who abandon everything around them for their selfish desires and make union with those equally selfish. Simply put – love what you have always loved. Put on Christ, remember where you first saw the rolling hills and flowing rivers that your fathers tamed and put down roots. All that aside – it’s where you’re from, and where you’ve belonged all along.
-By John Williamson Blue
Oh, I'm a good old Rebel, now that's just what I am; For this "Fair Land of Freedom" I do not give a damn! I'm glad I fit against it, I only wish we'd won, And I don't want no pardon for anything I done.