Tag Archives: love

Green Blood

A reflection essay on white male suicide by Joselito Sering

Tomorrow is the online memorial for a dear childhood friend who I love as a real brother. I am at the peak of my sadness tonight. I’ve been holding it together as good as I could for our other brothers who are hurting really bad about how his life ended. He was the sweetest, most thoughtful, honest, and genuine friend I have had since high school. He believed in peace and justice just like I did. We admired Terrence McKenna and the dimensions psilocybin opens up for us. Our understanding of Joseph Campbell’s lectures were unique in that we can actually have meaningful conversations about existential philosophy unlike our other metalhead brothers. He was very open minded, considerate, and eager to cross bridges in the way he treated others and how he always stood up for others experiencing injustice. Best of all, his humor was dangerously witty and hilariously sophomoric simultaneously; our bond forged with bellyaching laughter and hours of therapeutic stupidity.

We both were deep into heavy metal music and hailing satan but his athiesm turned into agnosticism one night when we roamed a mideval crusader cemetery in Switzerland during our Europe tour right after we graduated. I was there when he had an epiphany and that was the only time I’ve ever seen him cry. I never heard him say “Hail Satan” ever since but he would throw the metal horns out for things he gave approval. Instead, he became very interested in Tibetan buddhism and followed the Dalai Lama’s message of compassion in his adult life. Moreover, his love for animals and natural environments were rooted in his innate desire to connect with the universe wholeheartedly.

Dalai Lama

We still fathomed the existence of truth behind the veil conveniently pulled over our eyes. I remember talking for hours about alien life forms like the greys and reptilians, the massive underground tunnels, the Nephilim, ESP, usually in the context of popular folklore with physics against new age skepticism (pseudoscience). We also discussed things like nefarious agents in the background of 9/11, WTC 7, Pentagon missile hoax, the trillions of missing dollars admitted by Rumsfeld the day before, the gold in the WTC towers disappearing, and legitimacy of waging wars. We both were anti-war and supported Ron Paul in that one election when we both heard libertarian values we shared uttered in the news.

He shot himself in the neck the night before the elections. It was a violent way to go. The first hand gun I ever fired was his. He taught me how to be responsible and follow the law with guns like he did. He became very involved with other gun enthusiasts like the Oathkeepers. I had a conversation with him one time and I admitted that I am antifascist and have been since high school with scars from fights with neo-nazi punks in the scene to prove it. Once at The Farm, another at the Mabuhay Gardens, and Gilman Street quite a few years later. He was really surprised to learn that and was quite baffled as was I in learning that he opposed Antifa and believe they are equivalent to the Klan. We both were locked in arms when it came to Abolish The Fed and both of us supported the Occupy movement. Our conversations always ended in laughter and we would move on about the Black Queen show or the Vio-lence reunion show he got advanced tickets for. I paid no mind.

Occupy movement


Realizing now that he had been listening to right wing media and was repeating the same propaganda tropes pushed by white nationalist militia groups including the Oathkeepers, I am incensed and furious at these fake patriots who, in their cunning recruitment way, filled his head with lies and his heart with fear, to the point that his confusion made him mad. Yes, he was suffering from depression, the depth of which could be rooted from his estranged family. I knew about his mom, his sister, his daughter. It is a heartbreak I will never understand, a sadness I can only empathize with but never believe. What I do know is that he was prime, like many others, for radicalization. And, it was his warped perception, ultimately, that led to his decree–violent death was the only way to end. This was completely antithetical to his spiritual beliefs of holding peace and compassion over all things. I’m reminded of the monks that burned themselves to prove a point. But I’m also reminded that white men are committing suicide at a higher rate than any other group in America for a common reason: shame, guilt, fear, and hate…for themselves. And like many of them, he had guns in the house.

In my mind and in my heart, I believe it was white nationalist radicalization that killed my beloved childhood friend and metal brother. The lies, sense of entitlement, and propaganda techniques in the media he consumed and those perpetrated by his gun loving friends were in direct conflict of what was in his heart. With no jobs available and a lockdown from social interactions, all he did was consume lies and calls for violence that it drove him into madness and magnified his sadness beyond reproach…to the point that he pointed the gun at himself instead of someone else. His isolation became despair and with all the hate being spewed running up to the elections, he ended his life. It was the only thing he had control over. He wanted to go out with a bang. No pun intended. I was so mad at him, so enraged at what he did: a cowardly escape. But, with tears in my eyes, I see that it wasn’t his fault.

He became increasingly frustrated with the government and was angry about something daily, according to his family. He was being manipulated and it changed his behavior to the point that his relationships became even more estranged. Eventually, he became estranged from his true self and that, I insist, is where his existential crisis is rooted. Losing his work over the pandemic and losing his will to survive through it was exasperated by strains in his family; hence, he was losing his identity. His depression became desperation as the election loomed. The world he believed he was entitled to was crumbling and there was nothing to look forward for besides more fear and frustration. Ultimately, he didn’t want any part of it–this country, this society, this world–this life.

Painting by Alex Grey

After seeing the documentary below, I also realize that it reinforces what I already felt and observed in many ways and I wish for others of my friends who are truly compassionate and willing to understand that many white folks and trumpers are actually not bad people but they are being manipulated with propaganda to divide us so that we don’t join together against them, the 1%, the way we did during Occupy. For my friends who supported Trump, I don’t hate them or pity them. I don’t want to lose them anymore because I realize now that they were also being manipulated. I just hope that they can deprogram the same way as the dad did in this documentary before they lose our love or their mind. Worst of all, before they lose their life by their own hands.

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