R.A.I.N.

Rise Above It Now

     Rise Above It Now (R.A.I.N.) is the official name of the anti-drug campaign of the Racial Nationalist Party of America.  Our mission is to give direction to those whites who have been ensnared in the drug culture, to aid in the prevention of drug abuse among whites, and to inspire our folk to greatness.   We have a great destiny to fulfill and that can not be realized if our folk is in a drug induced state that robs them of ambition and purpose.

     Drug abuse has contributed to so many of the problems America is facing.  It is a problem that won’t go away, and there is no amount of legislation that can undo what has been done.  If only it was that easy.

     What we need are leaders who are concerned about what is going on in our society. What we need are leaders who inspire our people to greatness, not seek to bring them down to the lowest common denominator, which unfortunately is what we have now especially on the national level.  And, no matter how well- intentioned,  throwing money around is meaningless if this is lacking. This has to be addressed on the social not legal or financial level.  What needs to be done is to create passive peer pressure, positive reinforcement, and awareness.  We say ‘passive’ because any thing other than that will be misinterpreted as ‘bullying’ by the target audience, which could have the opposite effect than what is intended.  This is what we in the Racial Nationalist Party of America advocate through our sponsorship of R.A.I.N..

 

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A White Inmate Writes To R.A.I.N.

by Joseph Bailey

     The judge sentences me to pay a fine and attend some groups.  ‘No sweat’, I tell myself.  I can roll with it.  I’m attending four A.A. meetings a week.  I see a drug and alcohol counselor once a week.  Then there’s the guy running it all.  Tom is his name.  Tom’s a good guy.  Ex speed freak, you know, a real f***ing addict.  He got straight and now this is his gig.

     I run through the motions.  I tell Tom what he wants to hear.  He knows I’m full of it.  I’m only here for a bullshit pot charge, so who really gives a f***?  I like Tom.  He allows me to schedule my “random” urine tests.  I tell him I have to because I don’t drive and have to catch a ride to the hospital to piss.  This way I get as high as I can whenever I can and then give myself one week of being clean then flush all the other drugs out of my system with alcohol to get ready for my “random” drug test.

     I am pretty good at talking the talk.  I listen.  I share.  I always hear people saying to be active in recovery.  I take on a role of responsibility at the young people’s AA group.  I do everything I am supposed to do.  Everything except stay sober.  Now I’m running the Wednesday night group at the Unitarian church.  They even give me the keys to the place.  Boy,  can I bullshit with the best of them?  Sometimes I even impress myself.

     I make all of my meetings.  Sometimes I have to hitch hike.  I see things.  I hear things.  This guy’s story, that woman’s heartache.  Yeah, of course I can relate but I’m not them.  I’m in control.  I only do the drugs I want, when I want.  I’m not an addict.  I’m just having fun.  Everyone hears what they want to and the judge cuts me loose.  Like Groucho Marx said, “I don’t want to join a club that would accept me as a member.”

     Sometime after that I get a job welding.  It’s a good job.  I get certified and make some decent money.  I party hard every weekend with the guys I work with.  They’re a lot older, but I can keep up.  I am only 18 and end up outlasting the guys twice my age.  These are proud moments.

     I work all week long and party all weekend.  I smoke coke here and there.  I’ve been at it like this for years.  I start going hard every weekend.  I worked hard.  I earned it.  I blow all my cash week in and week out.  I usually pick up some pot, a few sheets of blotter acid, a fist full of pills and can survive on the little I am willing to part with.  It’s a good time.  I start and finish every day during the week with pot and pills, then smoke coke and eat LSD all weekend long.  It doesn’t get much better than this.  Every few weeks I change it up and go find some friends my age.  I hang out, get laid, you know, normal eighteen year old things.  But there’s always drugs.

     They don’t have to be specific drugs.  I’m not an addict.  I can do whatever drug I want.  I’m just having fun.  I work hard and carry my own, I deserve it.  At least that’s what I tell myself every time I blow all of my money getting f***ed up.  It’s not a big deal.  I don’t have to do this sh*t.  I will just take it easy next weekend.  I’m in control.

     I bounce from place to place, job to job.  I learn a lot along the way.  I make good money.  I keep getting f***ed up.  I meet a girl. We hang out, we have a son.  He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  I work hard to take care of him.  I still party when I can.  I deserve to cut loose and have fun.  If I don’t have pot and pills then there’s alcohol.  There’s always a way to take the edge off.  I always find a way.  The girlfriend and I break up.  We can’t stop fighting.  I move on.  There’s no way drugs had a part in it. 

We just didn’t get along.

     There’s another girl.  We instantly fall in love.  I try to keep my distance, I can’t.  I propose and buy her the ring she wants.  We’re happy together.  She’s a recovering heroin addict.  I have seen people go downhill due to heroin.  I’ve stayed clear because I know what I like, I like a lot of.  She’s been clean for four years.  The depth of this is lost on me.  I’ve never been clean for four days.  I do pills in front of her.  I don’t realize what I’m doing.  She asks if she can get high with me.  Of course I share with her.  I have no idea.  We’re just hanging out and having fun.  It’s no big deal.

     One day I can’t find any pills.  She asks if I would do a bag.  I say yeah.  Right about then I would have done anything to take the edge off.  I don’t see why my choices should have any effect on hers.  She goes in the other room and gets a couple of bags of heroin.  It doesn’t click that she’s been doing dope behind my back.  I just want to feel better.  It doesn’t click that now I’m doing heroin.  I’m just having fun, right?  Not this time.  Not any time.  I do heroin every day.  I tell myself I’m having fun.  I’m still working, taking care of my son, and my soon-to-be wife.  I tell myself I can keep it together. 

     I get high and then start driving.  I wake up to the airbag hitting me in the face.  The thing I hit was a Subaru.  A young couple was inside.  They’re dead……...It was just an accident.  I shouldn’t be in jail, but here I am.  It sets in.  I killed two people…. I do belong in jail.  I was f***ed up.  I’m a f***ing junkie.  I swear off drugs.  I admit everything to the police. I swear I’m a changed man, that I’m sorry and that I won’t do drugs anymore.  I mean it.  I am sentenced to 14-28 years in prison.

    I get high the first chance I can. When I see, taste, feel the dope, all the pain disappears.  I forget the people I hurt, the people I killed.  I forget those I love and how I left them to fend for themselves.  I get a dirty urine and lose visitation with the people I love.  I swear off drugs.  My fiancé dies in a car accident.  I get high again.  I won’t stop getting high.  I do everything I can get my hands on.  If I could get enough I would probably just end it.  I wouldn’t care.  I’m having “fun” again.

     I’m in SHU in the hole.  I think back on all I’ve loved, all I’ve lost and what I’ve taken from those undeserving.  I think on all I’ve take from myself.  How could I have take so much from so many?  I have to turn it around.  I stay clean.  I get my visits back and am doing well.  I fall.  I start to lose focus of what’s important and what it takes for me to stop hurting people.  What it will take to survive.  I forget about my promises and pain.  I get high.  I get a dirty urine.  Every time this happens I lose another piece of myself.  How much more can I take?  This isn’t fun.  How did it get this far?  I swear off drugs.  The more I f***ed up, the harder it gets to look at myself in the mirror.  I feel weak.  I am weak.

     I try to vent to my mother.  My mother who gave her life for mine.  I usually try to make her think everything is fine.  Not this time.  This time she can hear the despair in my voice.  There’s no hiding it.  I tell her I’m in trouble again.  :I tell her it’s the drugs.  I sound weak.  Like I’m not even a man.  She snaps.  “You just don’t do them”, she said. She sounds so strong.  She is.  I feel shame.  The shame I’ve been denying my guilt of since I was a child.  I can’t hide it anymore.

     I refocus.  I build my strength.  I find success.  My triumph is that today I’m sober.  Tomorrow is another day, another battle.  But, I can prepare for that today.  I have some friends.  I have those I love.  I have myself.  I have the strength.  Today I can actually have fun.  Today I am alive and get the fulfillment of sharing that with those I love.  Not everyone can say that…..I do not take that for granted.  My hope is to stay clean because without those , the todays will never become tomorrows and I am not done yet.

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