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My Postnational Adolescence in Greater Toronto

Canada’s Indian "expat community" has grown tremendously over the past few years enticed by lucrative job opportunities, unpolluted lands, free healthcare and education "for both you and your loved ones".

I’m a young guy. I was still in high school during the Trump presidency. Most of what I know about the Great Replacement comes from my first-hand experiences in the classrooms of Greater Toronto. In many ways, the classroom is the frontline where the conflict between Old Canada and New Canada is most visible. Canada’s youngest generation is also its most foreign generation. For that reason, my own experiences reveal aspects of the Replacement which are not always noticeable on the surface. 

Geography Class and the Rich Kid from Dubai 

Back in middle school, not too long ago, a large portion of our geography course was dedicated to the study of immigration. I remember one assignment in particular. Each student was required to pick a country and produce a “population pyramid” which displayed the age-sex distribution of the population in that country. I chose Sweden. If I recall correctly, my “pyramid” was slim in the middle and slimmer at the bottom, with a large cohort in the 50-65 age range. Shortly after that, we were assigned a textbook reading about how Canada faced the same problem as Sweden—the number of people entering retirement would soon be greater than the number of people entering the taxable workforce. Later, during an oral exam, my teacher asked me how Canada should solve its demographic problem. “Canada needs to bring in more immigrants,” I said, “so that the government can afford to pay the pensions for all the senior citizens.” I passed the course with the highest mark in my class. 

I’m not sure why I believed that immigration was the solution to our “aging population.” Perhaps I assumed that all the immigrants would be from Europe. I grew up in a suburban pocket which had mostly retained its Euro-Canadian character up until recently. Mind you, this was not a liberal suburb—the residents in my immediate vicinity were generally hard-working men and women with conservative dispositions. Few of these neighbourhoods are left in Greater Toronto, and my own has already changed greatly since my middle-school days. 

Back in those days, one of my close friends was a chubby dark-skinned kid who was a big fan of FC Barcelona. His parents had concealed his origins by giving him a European name. We can call him Joey. We bonded over our shared passion for soccer, and we often kicked the ball around on the asphalt during recess. I rarely thought about race as a middle schooler, so I didn’t really care about my friend’s background. When I first met him, I probably assumed he was some kind of African or Middle Easterner. When I asked Joey where he was from, he told me that he lived in Dubai as a little kid. That was enough information for me, and I never asked any further questions on the topic. 

At school, Joey had a reputation for being a “rich kid” whose father was a globetrotting businessman. My other friends and classmates often circulated rumours about Joey’s dad and his collection of sports cars. They told jokes about my well-fed friend, and speculated about his life of luxury and abundance. I don’t know where the rumours and jokes originated, but I do know that they were true. One day at recess, as we talked about soccer, Joey told me that he had attended the 2015 Champions League Final at Olympiastadion in Berlin.

Somehow, his father had managed to obtain midfield tickets to the prestigious match. The two of them, father and son, had flown to Germany to watch the game. They cheered Barcelona to victory against Juventus, then flew back to Canada and proceeded with life as usual. For my blue-collar family, such an expense would be unthinkable. But, for Joey’s family, a brief (but costly) trip to Germany could be conducted without a second thought. 

In retrospect, I know today that Joey was a Hindu from India. His father was one of the white-collar professionals who left his homeland in the 1990s to build a career in the United Arab Emirates. After acquiring his wealth and starting a family, the expat immigrated to Canada and found a new home for himself in Greater Toronto, living in the high-income neo-suburbs where Euro-Canadian farmers once dwelled. Joey, the heir to the fortune, was driven to my school from the newer part of the city. He was too rich to be local, too wealthy to walk. My middle school was located in the oldest, most European, least wealthy neighbourhood around. At our middle school, Joey was an outlier. At the big high-school, however, I was surrounded by people like Joey. 

The Bisexual Paki and Our False Assumptions 

On my first day of high school, I found myself in a crowd of people who looked nothing like me. At my local middle school, nearly everyone was Euro-Canadian. In any given class, there might be two or three Asians or Africans, but they were always mysterious outsiders. There were some foreign individuals, but there was no immigrant community. But the high school, being much larger than the middle school, was attended by students from the expansive new subdivisions on the outer limits of the sprawling city. Accordingly, the student population was split roughly 50-50 between Euro-Canadians and foreigners. In a social-science class, the Whites may outnumber the foreigners by a small margin. In the chemistry and physics classes, meanwhile, the foreigners had a clear majority. Most of the foreigners were of Indo-Pakistani extraction, and all were from successful families. 

In my world-history class, the two “smart kids” were myself and an overachiever whose family came from Pakistan. We can call her Noor. She seldom spoke, but her words revealed much about her backstory and worldview. Noor was born in Kuwait, and had lived there for the first decade of her life. Her father had migrated to the small Gulf state with his wife in search of employment opportunities. As an educated and aspirational man, he had few opportunities for advancement at home but became affluent abroad. During her childhood in Kuwait, a Muslim country, Noor was required to take courses on “Islamic studies” as part of her elementary education. In Canada, however, Noor had become bisexual and agnostic and came to resent her religious background. In her mind, Kuwait was a repressive “conservative” place which had failed to adopt the liberal-progressive values of the West. In a classwide discussion about the Ottoman Empire, meanwhile, Noor stated that the vast Turkish realm had been a multicultural, diverse, tolerant state where everyone was welcome and differences were respected. The Ottoman Empire, unlike pre-modern Europe, was a cosmopolitan society. The Ottomans believed in religious and ethnic pluralism. Their values are our values! 

Noor’s views were not unique. In fact, her attitudes were consistent with the mainstream opinions of the Pakistani youth at my school. Several were gay, or bisexual, or queer. Most were secular or agnostic, and a significant minority were outright atheists. They hated the

Islamic Republic of Iran but reflected on the Ottoman Empire with fondness. They despised Imran Khan and embraced the values of American liberalism. On all issues foreign and domestic, they agreed with the neoliberal consensus. 

This, of course, flies in the face of everything we assume as right-wingers and conservatives. We assume that Muslim immigrants are opponents of the LGBT agenda. We assume that they are devoutly religious and traditional. We assume that they are loyal to the governments of their homelands. We assume that they are prone to radicalization and Islamic extremism. We assume that the values of the modern West are foreign to them. These are the false lessons that we learned from Paul Joseph Watson and the other Zionist commentators. 

Newly arrived Indian couple settling in upper class neighborhood in Canada

Granted, these assumptions may be true amongst the older generation. Consider the structure of the typical Pakistani household in Greater Toronto. If you have seen one, you have seen them all. The grandfather shuffles around the $800K townhouse in his traditional Indo-Arabian outfit. He speaks no English. He is a faithful Muslim who yearns for the land of his childhood. He never intended to leave Pakistan, but he was brought to Canada under the “family reunification” policy by his successful son. His middle-aged son is an educated white-collar professional, perhaps a doctor or a lawyer. He immigrated to Canada in his late twenties, bringing a young wife with him. Perhaps he lived in Dubai or Kuwait before he came here. He speaks with a thick accent but has an advanced degree. For the past two years, he has been working from home. The granddaughter, meanwhile, attends a nearby university. She speaks fluently in both English and Urdu, and is a dedicated liberal. She drives the brand-new family SUV to her lectures every weekday. She wears the outfit of the Western career-woman and dreams of a career in business, maybe marketing. The grandson, youngest in the family, is a high-school student. He hates sociology but loves math, and spends his free-time memorizing formulas. He plans to study engineering at Waterloo. He wears Jordans and listens to rap, but lives in the highest-income suburb in the city. 

The grandfather is the boogeyman that the Zionists warned us about. He is the non-Western, unassimilated Muslim traditionalist. The granddaughter and grandson, meanwhile, are the ones who will inherit Canada. They are the educated, progressive, Westernized professionals who will join the “aspirational elite” of the new postnational state. 

Amerindians, Americanization, and ‘Diet Jews’ 

My high school, as I said, was split roughly 50-50 between Euro-Canadians and Indo-Pakistanis. And indeed, many of our lessons were focused on racial topics. However, the racial dynamics of our particular city were skillfully avoided. In English class, for example, we learned that the White part of Thunder Bay is richer than the Amerindian part. We watched a documentary about drug-addiction and homelessness in Winnipeg. We were told horror-stories about the “forced sterilization” of Amerindian women in Canadian hospitals. And, of course, we watched various films about the alleged mistreatment of Amerindian children in the notorious residential schools. In other words, our entire racial education was dedicated to the rocky relationship between Euro-Canadians and “indigenous” Amerindians. Not one word was spoken about the silent conflict between Whites and South Asians in Greater Toronto.

Why was our racial education focused on Amerindians, in a school which had zero Amerindian students? I believe the answer is quite clear: The people who write the curriculums and train the teachers want to ensure that the racial discussion in Canada is thoroughly Americanized. In America, all racial discourse is centred around the contrast between rich Whites and poor Blacks. In the American imagination, Whites are a race of high-income middle-class suburbanites, whereas Blacks are a race of impoverished inner-city underdogs. Anything which falls outside this framework is forgotten. The struggles of poor Whites in West Virginia and Kentucky are ignored, because poor Whites cannot exist. The median income of an Indian-American household is never mentioned on CNN, because upper-class Indian immigrants fall outside the White-Black dichotomy. 

Here in Canada, our Americanist puppet-regime has decreed that all racial discourse shall be centred around the contrast between Euro-Canadians and the “Indigenous peoples.” The role of the oppressed Negro will be played by the downtrodden Amerindian alcoholic. Right now, as I write, countless essays are being typed about the “racial disparities” between Euro-Canadians and Amerindians in Thunder Bay and Winnipeg. Meanwhile, the income-gap between successful Indo-Pakistani newcomers and struggling old-stock Canadians in Greater Toronto will continue to be swept under the rug. 

Indians top as Canada admits 108,000 new immigrants in the first quarter of 2022

In nationalist circles, our way of thinking is often dominated by the American dichotomy. We take it for granted that Whites are a high-income suburban race, meanwhile all foreigners can be lumped into the same category as low-status Blacks and Amerindians. Go on Telegram and you will see people comparing America to South Africa and Brazil. For some people, nothing is scarier than the idea that Reagan’s white-collar America will be flooded with low-income mulattoes. The term “Brazilification” is thrown around, and the Boer farm murders are cited as examples of what might happen once Whites are a small minority amongst the dark-skinned hordes. 

These, of course, are valid concerns! But my own real-life experiences are quite different from what you see on Telegram. There are no low-income mulattoes in my hometown, but there are plenty of high-income Brahmins and successful Westernized Muslims. During my lifetime, they have rapidly and dramatically altered the character of Greater Toronto. A region which was recently inhabited by industrial workers and small-scale farmers is now inhabited by foreign-born professionals and technocrats. The median income has increased, but the Euro-Canadian population has decreased. It is anti-White gentrification on a massive scale. 

Unlike some, I have no illusions of racial superiority. I take no pride in the mercantile empires of previous centuries. I know who I am. I belong to the Euro-Canadian working class. A few short generations ago, my forefathers were peasants on the age-old European soil. Ultimately, I am a hillbilly. 

For me, the idea of “Brazilification” means nothing. I’m not particularly worried about the alleged decline of the white-collar middle class and the growth of a mulatto underclass. That is certainly not what I witnessed in my hometown. What I did witness, however, was the rapid extinction of blue-collar Whites and the uninterrupted proliferation of high-income migrants from South Asia.

When I reflect on the racial situation in my hometown and the rest of Greater Toronto, I find it hard to identify with the Boers or the White Brazilians. Truthfully, I find it much easier to identify with the Arabs of Mandatory Palestine. In one generation, my homeland has been permanently transformed through the unwanted introduction of wealthy cosmopolitan immigrants. They are building their megalopolis while we wither in the environs. 

I don’t see a Black face when I look at the foreigner in my midst. Rather, I see a Zionist. Or, as Joel Davis said recently: “I’m increasingly coming to the conclusion that Indians are diet Jews.”

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