Let start by telling you who I am.
I am American. I am a White Christian. My ancestors have been on this land for generations. My great-grandfather fought in the Second World War, one of millions of American men who left their homes to fight a war across an ocean because their country called them. My other great-grandfather was an American coal miner, descending into the darkness of the earth day after day to pull out the black rock that powered a rising nation. His hands were calloused, his lungs were scarred, and he did it anyway because that is what American men did. They built. They sacrificed. They provided.
My grandfather was an American iron worker. He helped construct a nuclear power plant. He worked on the American railroad. When he came home, his body ached and his muscles were spent, but he had done something real. He had built something that would outlast him, something his grandchildren would inherit. My other grandfather was a plant manager for an American manufacturer, part of the great industrial engine that made the twentieth century the American century.
Generations of my ancestors are buried in this soil. They did not visit America. They did not use America as a way station to somewhere else. They did not come here to extract wealth and send it back to a foreign homeland. They lived here. They died here. They fought for this land, bled for it, and when their time came, they were laid to rest in it. Their bones are mingled with this earth. Their sacrifice is woven into the fabric of everything this nation became.
I am an American not because I affirm certain propositions. Not because I can recite the Constitution or pass a civics test. Not because some piece of paper says so. I am an American because my people are American, because my blood is American, because everything I am flows from the men and women who built this country and passed it down to me as my inheritance. I did not earn this any more than a son earns his father’s name. I received it as a gift, as a birthright, as something entrusted to me that I must now protect and pass on.
This is what it means to be American. It is not an idea you can subscribe to. It is not a club you can join. It is a family you are born into or, in rare cases, adopted into over the course of generations through genuine assimilation, intermarriage, and total cultural integration. It is an inheritance that flows through blood and faith and shared sacrifice across centuries.
The concept of an American people, a distinct nation forged from the various European stocks that settled this continent, is not a modern invention of online dissidents. It was articulated by one of our greatest presidents, a man whose face is carved into Mount Rushmore, a man no one would dare call a fringe extremist.
Theodore Roosevelt spoke openly about the formation of an American race. He understood that the English, the Scots, the Germans, the Dutch, the Swedes, the Irish, and other European peoples who came to these shores were being fused together into something new. Not a proposition. Not an idea. A race. A new branch on the great tree of European Christian civilization, distinct from its parent stocks yet unmistakably of the same family.
Roosevelt wrote that the American people were becoming a new ethnic type, shaped by the unique conditions of the frontier, tempered by the demands of taming a continent, unified by Christianity which provided the moral and cultural foundation for the national character. He saw this as a glorious thing, the creation of a vigorous new people from the best of the old European stocks. He did not imagine that this American race included Hindus from India. He would have found such a suggestion absurd, and so would every American of his era.
This Pan-European Christian identity was the American identity. It was capacious enough to eventually include the Irish Catholic and the Italian, the Pole and the Greek, because all of them were European and all of them were Christian. They could be grafted onto the Anglo-Protestant rootstock because the civilizational distance was small. They worshipped the same God. They inherited the same Western tradition. They shared the same basic assumptions about morality, family, law, and human dignity.
Within a few generations, their descendants were indistinguishable from old-stock Americans. They intermarried freely. They blended into the American race that Roosevelt celebrated. They became us and we became them, because we were always branches of the same tree.
This is the actual history of American identity. Not a proposition nation open to the world. A racial nation, a Pan-European Christian people, a new ethnic identity forged from kindred stocks in the crucible of the American experience. Roosevelt knew it. Every American of his generation knew it. Everyone knows it today. It is simply the obvious truth about who we were.
That truth has been deliberately buried. To speak of the American race today is to invite accusations of White supremacy. But we are not inventing something new. We are remembering something old. We are recovering what our ancestors knew and what our enemies have tried to make us forget. There is an American people. We are a race. We are the descendants of Europeans who came here, built here, fought here, and fused into a new people on this land. No amount of ideological reconstruction will change that reality.
How many of the Indians and other foreigners flooding into America today are following this path? How many are converting to Christianity? How many are marrying White Americans and raising their children in American culture? How many are abandoning their traditions and their ethnic solidarity and their remittances back to their home nations?
Very few, therein lies problem.
What we see instead is the opposite of assimilation. We see ethnic consolidation. We see Indian neighborhoods, Indian businesses, Indian temples, Indian political advocacy, all designed to maintain and strengthen Indian identity on American soil. We see Indians marrying Indians, raising Indian children, preserving Indian culture, while demanding that we pretend this constitutes becoming American.
Assimilation is possible. But it is rare, it is difficult, and it requires the immigrant to give up everything that makes them foreign. It cannot happen at scale when millions arrive faster than any culture can absorb them. It cannot happen when the newcomers have no intention of converting, intermarrying, or abandoning their old identity. It cannot happen when the host nation is forbidden from expecting or demanding assimilation.
What we have now is not immigration leading to assimilation. It is mass migration leading to full on replacement of the native population. And the replacements have no intention of becoming us. They intend to remain themselves while enjoying everything our ancestors built.
The Hindu Indian who arrived yesterday on an H-1B visa is not an American. He may hold legal status. He may have documents that permit him to reside here and work here. But he is not an American. His ancestors did not build this country. His people did not bleed for it. His family has no roots in this soil, no graves in these churchyards, no memory of what it cost to carve a nation out of the wilderness. He is a guest at best, an economic migrant using the infrastructure my ancestors built to advance his own interests and the interests of his people, who are not my people.
Every year, Indians in America send tens of billions of dollars back to India. This is wealth extracted from the American economy and transferred to a foreign nation. They do not reinvest it here. They do not use it to build American families or American communities. They siphon it out and send it home, because India is their home, no matter what their paperwork says. Their loyalty, their love, their sense of peoplehood, remains rooted in a subcontinent on the other side of the world.
When they enter American politics, they do not advocate for Americans. They advocate for Indians. They lobby for more Indian immigration, for more H-1B visas, for policies that benefit their coethnics at the expense of the native population. They form ethnic networks that hire and promote their own. They build temples to their false gods on American land, shrines to demons that my ancestors would have recognized as abominations. They do not assimilate.
We are told that they are just as American as we are. We are told that our ancestors’ sacrifices mean nothing, that blood and heritage are irrelevant, that anyone who shows up and affirms the right words has an equal claim to everything our forefathers built. We are told that to object to any of this makes us bigots, that the true American tradition is to be a doormat for the world.
This is a lie, and everyone knows it is a lie.
No Indian believes that a White American who moved to India would become Indian. No Chinese person believes that citizenship papers make a foreigner Chinese. No Japanese person, no Israeli, no Mexican, no Nigerian believes that their nation is merely an idea that anyone can join by filling out the right forms. Only White Americans are expected to believe this absurdity. Only we are required to pretend that our nations are not ours, that our homelands belong to whoever wants them, that our patrimony is theft unless we share it with the entire world.
Here is the truth that every heritage American needs to understand, the truth that separates us from every other group jostling for position in this fragmenting nation: we have nowhere else to go.
If all else fails, if America falls, the Jews have Israel. They have a homeland that exists explicitly for them, an ethnostate that will take them in, that defines itself by blood and faith, that builds walls and guards its borders and makes no apology for existing as a Jewish nation for the Jewish people. The Indians have India. Over a billion of their people, a civilization of their own, a place where they are the majority and always will be. If America becomes inhospitable, they can go home. The Chinese have China. The Japanese have Japan. The Nigerians have Nigeria. The Mexicans have Mexico. Every group flooding into this country has a homeland somewhere, a place where their people rule, a Plan B if the American experiment stops working in their favor.
My people have no such luxury. The American people, the heritage Americans, the descendants of those who built this nation from nothing, we have nowhere else to go. Europe is suffering the same dispossession we are. Australia, Canada, New Zealand, all of them are being subjected to the same replacement. There is no ancestral homeland waiting to receive us. There is no ethnostate that exists for our preservation. There is only here. This land that our ancestors cleared and built and died for. This is our first, last, and only home.
We are actively being displaced, replaced, and destroyed from within. Our birth rates are suppressed by economic policies that make family formation impossible. Our communities are flooded with foreigners who feel no connection to our history. Our children are taught in schools to despise their ancestors and themselves. Our culture is mocked and degraded in every movie, every advertisement, every corporate training session. Our political representation is explicitly attacked by those who see our decline as progress.
We are being erased, and we are being told to shut up and smile while it happens.
The outsiders replacing us have a Plan B. They have somewhere to go if this doesn’t work out. They can advocate for policies that harm us, extract what wealth they can, and leave when the host is exhausted. We cannot. For us, there is no exit. There is no backup plan. There is only victory or extinction.
So let me ask the obvious question to those who think we will simply accept this fate: Do you really think we are just going to stand here, shut up, and take this treatment? Do you really think a people with our history, with ancestors who crossed oceans and conquered continents, who built the most powerful nation in human history, are going to meekly accept annihilation? Do you think the sons of the men who stormed Normandy and tamed the frontier are going to bow their heads and shuffle quietly into oblivion because someone called them racist?
Think again.
We will not have our identity redefined by the outsiders replacing us. We will not accept the proposition nation mythology that was invented to justify our dispossession. We will not pretend that everyone who shows up is just as American as those whose ancestors built this country. We will not be silent. We will not be ashamed and we will not go quietly.
This is our home. Our only home and we will fight for it with everything we have, because we have no other choice.
Let me pose a question that clarifies everything, a question that every honest person already knows the answer to.
If tomorrow America went to war with India or Israel, what would the Indians and Jews living in America do?
Would they enlist in the American military to defend their adopted nation? Would they take up arms against their motherland, against their cousins and uncles, against the billion people who share their blood and their gods? Would they fight and die under the American flag against the country their parents came from, the country they send billions of dollars back to every year, the country whose interests they lobby for in American politics?
Or would they be on the first flight back to Delhi and Tel Aviv?
You know the answer. Everyone knows the answer. They would leave. They would go home, to their real home, to the place where their loyalties actually lie. The paperwork that says they are American citizens would mean nothing the moment it conflicted with their true identity. They are Indians living in America. They are not Americans and neither are the vast majority of Jews, who for millennia have been notorious for their refusal to assimilate into host nations. Jews like Ben Shapiro have no problem admitting in public on stage that Israel is his “backstop” incase anything should go wrong in the United States and that he is actively existing in America to the benefit of Israel.
Now ask this same question of me or of any actual American. If America went to war, where would I go? Nowhere. There is nowhere to go. This is my country. These are my people. I would fight because I have no choice but to fight, because everything I am and everything my ancestors built is here, because there is no India waiting to receive me, no ancestral homeland where my people rule and my family is safe. I would fight to the very end because Americans fight for America. That is what we do. That is who we are.
This is the difference between a citizen on paper and an American in truth. The paper citizen has options. He has exit strategies. His commitment to this nation extends precisely as far as his convenience. When times are good, when America offers economic opportunity and comfortable living, he is happy to be here. When times are hard, when sacrifice is required, when loyalty is tested, he will reveal where his heart actually belongs.
The Heritage American has no such luxury and needs no such escape. This is not a transaction for us. This is not a cost-benefit calculation. This is blood and soil, hearth and home, the land where our fathers are buried and our children will be raised. We cannot leave because there is nowhere to leave to. We will not leave because this is ours.
That difference is everything. That difference is the difference between a nation and a boarding house, between a people and a population, between citizens who will die for their country and residents who will flee it when the weather turns.
My great-grandfathers did not fight and mine and build so that their great-grandchildren could be displaced by foreigners in their own country. My grandfathers did not pour their lives into the steel and iron of American industry so that their grandchildren could watch those industries shipped overseas while foreign workers are imported to take what remains. My ancestors did not sacrifice everything they had so that I could be a minority in the nation they built, lectured about my privilege by people whose families contributed nothing to its existence.
America is not an economic zone. America is not a shopping mall open to the world. We are a people with a history and a future, a nation in the true sense of the word, bound together by common ancestry and common faith and the common blood that was spilled to make this land ours.
The question of American identity in the twenty-first century is very simple. It is the question of whether we will continue to exist. It is the question of whether our children will inherit the nation that was passed to us, or whether they will be strangers in a land their ancestors built, dispossessed and outnumbered by people who feel no connection to our history and no obligation to our future.
Every other people on earth is permitted to ask and answer this question. Every other people is allowed to define themselves by ancestry and heritage, to control their borders, to determine who may join them and on what terms. Only we are told that our existence as a people is illegitimate, that our desire to continue as a people is hatred, that the highest virtue is to welcome our own replacement with a smile.
I reject this. I reject it completely and without apology.
I am an American because my people are American. My forefathers earned that title with their sweat and blood. My grandfathers earned it with their labor. My parents passed it to me as my birthright. And I will pass it to my children, along with a nation worthy of the name, or I will die trying.
The Hindu who arrived yesterday, who sends his money back to India, who worships foreign gods and advocates for foreign interests, who sees America as nothing more than a place to extract wealth before returning home or importing more of his countrymen, he is not my countryman. He is not my fellow American. He is a foreigner residing on my ancestors’ land, and no legal document will ever change that fundamental reality.
The same is true of the Jew who maintains dual loyalty to a foreign ethnostate, who sends billions in American tax dollars to Israel every year and demands we send billions more, who advocates relentlessly for the interests of a foreign nation from positions of power in American media, finance, and government. He has a homeland that exists explicitly for his people. He has a passport waiting for him under Israel’s Law of Return, which grants citizenship to any Jew anywhere in the world based solely on blood. He has a plan B, an escape hatch, a nation that will always take him in because it was created for him and him alone.
When Jewish organizations advocate for open borders in America while celebrating Israel’s walls and deportations, they reveal where their loyalties lie. When they demand that America remain committed to “diversity” while Israel defines itself as a Jewish state for the Jewish people, they apply one standard to us and another to themselves. When they use their considerable influence in American institutions to advance Israeli interests, to drag us into Middle Eastern wars, to silence any criticism of their agenda as antisemitism, they demonstrate that their primary allegiance is not to the American people but to their own tribe.
These are not my countryman. These are not my fellow Americans. These are members of a foreign nation, loyal to a foreign state, residing among us while working for interests that are not ours. The legal documents that call them a citizen change nothing. Their loyalty is to their people, and their people are not my people. They have somewhere else to go if America falls. I do not.
This is not “hatred,” it is clarity. It is the simple recognition that nations are real, that peoples are real, that not everyone who sets foot on a piece of dirt becomes part of the people who made that dirt a homeland. The Indians have India. They have a billion people and a civilization stretching back millennia. The Jews have Israel. They do not need America, they can partner with China or India for that matter for additional resources and defense. But my people have nowhere else. This is our home. This is our only home. And we will not give it away because strangers demand that we do so in the name of principles our ancestors never held.
What is an American? An American is someone whose people built this nation and whose children will inherit it. An American is someone who owes everything to the generations who came before and owes everything to the generations who will come after. An American is part of a living chain of blood and soil stretching back centuries and forward into an uncertain future, a chain that we did not forge but that we are obligated to preserve.
I know who I am. I know where I come from. I know whose blood runs in my veins and whose sacrifices made my life possible. I know what I owe and to whom I owe it.
I am an American.
Andrew Torba
CEO, Gab.com
Christ is King
