Arno Michaelis

Arno Michaelis



The Gift of Our Wounds: A Sikh and a Former White Supremacist Find Forgiveness after Hate
My Life After Hate








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Sach da xuat ban
4.22 avg rating — 316 ratings — published 2018 — 8 editions
3.91 avg rating — 23 ratings — published 2010 — 5 editions








“I’ll never truly understand what it’s like to be anyone but a white man in the United States. For all of my self-imposed distance from the status quo, I’ll never be able to get my head around being the product of generations of hardship. The most brutal chattel slavery in human history. I’ll never comprehend being penned up in an impoverished reservation on land that was once sovereign domain. I’ll never know how it feels to be denied because of the color of your skin or because of where you came from. To have to watch your children suffer the same fate.               But I still try to understand—by studying the history that the victors didn’t write, and interacting with my fellow human beings. Finding out what their favorite color is. Asking what they daydreamed about as a child. Sharing laughs. Discovering the person.               I” ― Arno Michaelis, My Life After Hate
“I know where racists are coming from, and I pity them as much as I pity their victims. Hate takes a terrible toll on life. Fear is indeed the mind-killer. We all have the option of living a life of love and compassion, and I'm here to say that the world really is as beautiful a place as you care to envision.You will find what you're looking for, so think deeply about what it is you seek.” ― Arno Michaelis, My Life After Hate
“Maybe I was looking for something to believe in when the planets aligned to set me down that path. I was drawn to racist ideology because I felt like white people were getting shafted. We were the underdogs. It was us against the world in an epic battle for forever. Such romance! Getting back in that moment, the taint we cast upon reality definitely had that saga feel. Hitler did it with the torch-lit ceremony and iconic swastika. It felt like you were Beowulf, Siegfried, and Conan all rolled into one. Just a big fucking game of Dungeons & Dragons, till death and prison inevitably show up. Then the shit is real. Then comes the real challenge, the true test of will. Do you back down then? Are you a coward? Or just a fool? That's when you gather all the suffering you can endure and produce and you devour it, because it's the only thing that nourishes you anymore. And you let that fire rage on till it's all you can see. You damn well can't see how burnt and disfigured it makes you-how it scorches your life. It's impossible to see how the hurt you emanate feels on the receiving end, because you no empathy for other humans. Even your own crew is barren of empathy for each other. You would die for your brothers and sisters, but you are unable to put yourself in their shoes. You don't really care about or understand their individual hopes and dreams, because like you, they have none outside of the movement. Your feeling for them is one of primal pack-mentality. Survival melded with a perverted sense of honor that won't permit you to suffer insult to them any more than to yourself.” ― Arno Michaelis, My Life After Hate

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7711857.Arno_Michaelis

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