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ku klux klan

He's living proof that anyone can change.

Shane Johnson, 26, was practically born into the Ku Klux Klan — and his body had the tattoos to prove it.

After growing up with pro-KKK uncles and cousins, along with a dad who served as the Imperial Nighthawk (or lead enforcer) of his local Indiana chapter, Shane's skin was covered in racist and gang-affiliated graffiti.

Then he had a change of heart, and he wanted to make sure his exterior matched his interior.

Image via GoFundMe Studios, used with permission.

Shane first noticed his feelings were starting to change a few years ago when he met Tiffany.

Tiffany, who Shane would eventually marry and start a family with, would ask him questions that challenged his belief system and how they didn’t match up with the man she had met and fallen in love with.

"The main one stuck in my head was, 'Could I kill an innocent black child?'" he tells me in an email. "At the time, I answered yes to her, but in my mind, and heart, I knew the answer was no. And if the answer is no, then there is an obvious flaw with what I believe. Why do I have empathy for these people I am supposed to hate?"

Image via GoFundMe Studios, used with permission.

White supremacy is one of the oldest skeletons in America’s closet.

And after the protests during the summer of 2017 in Charlottesville, its specter is back under the spotlight. But there are signs of change.

"We believed we were the superior race," Shane says. "But in reality, we were just … pushing the blame of us being failures onto others."

Once his personal awakening began, Shane and Tiffany fled his hometown to start a new life together.

Finally free of generations of hate, it would be easy for Shane to quietly move away and forever deny the shameful legacy he was born into.

Instead, knowing it could take years and thousands of dollars to cover his tattoos, Shane decided his "path of self-discovery" would involve speaking publicly about putting his racist days behind him, even if it made him a target of those still practicing hate.

"My once most-prized possession was now the biggest burden ever," he says. "It's my dream to travel, speaking to kids and others exposing the white power movement," he explains, to help them move past the hate.

Image via GoFundMe Studios, used with permission.

When Shane heard about a nonprofit group that offers to remove racist and gang tattoos for free, he connected with them.

He is now helping the company, Southside Tattoo, raise money and awareness.

"I started with his neck, replacing a swastika with roses," Dave Cutlip, co-founder of Southside Tattoo, tells me in an interview. "There's still a lot of work to do, but we're hoping to just get it to where he can wear a regular shirt in public."

Shane also was contacted by GoFundMe Studios, which produced a short film about his change of heart and public outreach efforts.

As his personal transformation continues, Shane has decided to become an activist and hopefully an inspiration for others against hate.

He's been speaking out and appearing in local TV interviews to show that people can have a second chance at a better life if they choose to let go of their hate. In fact, he's become the poster model for a fundraising campaign to help other people cover up their racist and gang ink.

Along with enjoying a renewed life with his wife and son, Shane is trying out other new experiences. Dave says after one of the re-inking sessions, he told Shane to try créme brûlée. When Shane marveled over it, Dave says he told him, "Dude, this is what life is!"

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Scott Shepard was in the Ku Klux Klan for 19 years and admits to encouraging violent attacks and acts of terror against people of color and the government.

Today, he says he's reformed.

Shepard is the focus of a short documentary by Independent Lens that profiles his journey toward an eventual harsh rebuke of the KKK and how his family — particularly the black woman who helped raise him — responded to his violent turn and eventual change of heart.

The film may even help prevent another tragedy, revealing the specific — and totally ordinary — reasons Shepard was radicalized, how he radicalized others, and what he'd say now to teens and other people feeling desperate to belong.

Like a lot of KKK members, Shepard says he joined because he felt isolated. He just didn't fit in anywhere.

Growing up in Indianola, he says he was an "angry child" who was drawn to other violent or extremist groups like the Italian mafia and the Irish Republican Army.

"I could've very well gotten involved with ISIS," he said in the film. "I was just looking for a place to fit in, to fill a void within myself."

When Shepard went to a rally in Tupelo, Mississippi, it changed his life.

There, he met with KKK members and leaders, and he finally felt he fit in somewhere. He officially joined at 16 or 17 years old in the mid-1970s.

All GIFs via PBS/Independent Lens.

Shepard quickly ascended the ranks of the KKK as a spokesman for the group and a successful recruiter.

He admits the playbook for recruiting new members never changed: It's as easy as offering angry, confused young people a place to belong. For many, that's all it took.

It's hard not to imagine what those kids' lives would have been like if a teacher, coach, faith leader, or another trusted adult got to them first.

Shepard's path toward redemption began when he was in rehab for alcoholism.

"I was forced to sit down with these people, and we shared life stories and intimate conversations," he said.

Building meaningful relationships with people from different backgrounds helped Shepard get on the path to atonement. After some soul searching, he walked away from the KKK in 1992.

Now, Shepard is doing his part to change himself and keep other teens from following a dangerous path.

He shares his story widely, speaking out against racism on TV and at numerous public appearances. His Twitter handle is even @reformedracist.

The advice Shepard gives to young people considering joining an extremist group is simple but powerful.

Though he wishes he'd gotten it many years ago, it's never too late to share with someone else at risk of being radicalized by extremists.

"First off, I'd tell you to find someone you trusted. And if they have problems with their parents, don't go to your parents. Go to someone you trust and talk to them about your feelings. They've gotta open up early. They can't take these feelings and hold 'em in ... for the rest of their life."

Shepard embraces Rebecca Hawkins, the black woman who helped raise him.

'I just felt I had to speak out.'

"What does the party do next about David Duke?" a reporter asked President George H.W. Bush in 1989.

It was just a month into Bush Sr.'s presidency, and he was facing a question about whether he regretted taking a stand against former Ku Klux Klan leader David Duke's bid for state office in Louisiana.

Faced with a question about whether he should have kept his opinion to himself, Bush stood firm in his decision, saying, "Maybe there was some feeling in Metairie, Louisiana, that the president of the United States involving himself in a state legislative election was improper or overkill. I've read that, and I can't deny that. But what I can affirm is: I did what I did because of principle."

[rebelmouse-image 19529864 dam="1" original_size="450x315" caption="GIFs from YAP Archive/YouTube." expand=1]GIFs from YAP Archive/YouTube.

In November 1991, Bush was again given the opportunity to distance himself from white supremacists like Duke. This time, he did so even more forcefully.

After saying he would "strongly" urge voters not to vote for Duke, who was then the Republican nominee for Louisiana governor, Bush offered a longer explanation:

"When someone asserts that the Holocaust never took place, then I don't believe that person ever deserves one iota of public trust. And when someone has so recently endorsed [N]azism, it is inconceivable that such a person can legitimately aspire to leadership — in a leadership role in a free society. And when someone has a long record, an ugly record, of racism and of bigotry, that record simply cannot be erased by the glib rhetoric of a political campaign.

So, I believe that David Duke is an insincere charlatan. I believe he is attempting to hoodwink the voters of Louisiana, and I believe that he should be rejected for what he is and what he stands for."

Democrat Edwin Edwards defeated Duke a week later, coming away with 61% of the vote to Duke's 39%.

There are times when doing the right thing means bucking your own party and risking damage to your own political future. Bush knew the risks and seemed at peace with that moral decision.

Less than a year after helping elect Edwards, a southern Democratic governor, Bush was defeated by another: Bill Clinton. Bush's 1991 denunciation of Duke came as his approval rating — which was as high as 89% in March 1991 — had begun to falter.

Maybe the de facto endorsement of Duke's Democratic opponent hurt Bush's 1992 prospects — he did, after all, lose Louisiana in his reelection bid — but maybe some things are more important than politics.

Whether it was denouncing racists like Duke, publicly resigning his National Rifle Association membership, giving his son a lesson in ethics, or simply finding grace in defeat, George H.W. Bush showed that sometimes politicians can rise above politics. While there are many things one may or may not like about his policies and actions in office, he let his humanity shine through in difficult moments.

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What does the KKK's case against Georgia say about the First Amendment?

Understatement of the century: The KKK isn't exactly known for doing nice things.

The white supremacist hate group known as the Ku Klux Klan started in the mid 1800s and still exists today, albeit in much smaller and less active factions.

One of those factions, named the International Keystone Knights of the Ku Klux Klan is in Georgia.

And believe it or not ... the group wants to pick up trash as part of Georgia's adopt-a-highway program.

While that may sound like a good thing, consider the fact that as part of the program, all motorists driving along the Appalachian stretch of highway near the North Carolina border would have to drive past a sign that says "IKK Realm of GA, Ku Klux Klan."

Photo by Justin Sullivan/Getty Images

Which is why the state of Georgia saw the KKK's request and responded with a resounding, "Thanks but no thanks."

Now, the monthslong conflict over the hate group's right to free speech and Georgia's inclination to not hang a giant KKK ad on the highway is heading to the state's supreme court.

The interesting thing about this case is that, while free speech is at the heart of the issue, it's not really a free speech case.

The case largely boils down to the concept of "state sovereign immunity," which essentially says that no one can criminally prosecute the state without the state's consent.

To put it simply: The KKK wanted to participate in a state-sanctioned adopt-a-highway program which would involve having a sign promoting their hate group on government property. The state of Georgia declined that request, at which point the KKK decided to sue the state for infringing on its right to free speech. The state of Georgia then cited "state sovereign immunity" and said, "Nope, sorry, we can't be sued for that."

Maya Dillard Smith, executive director for the American Civil Liberties Union in Georgia, told The Washington Post that the state's sovereign immunity claim is "disheartening."

Frankly, if the state of Georgia doesn't want to hang up a big sign with the KKK's name on it just to get a couple miles of highway cleaned, it's hard to disagree with that decision.

Photo by John Moore/Getty Images.

The ACLU's argument, however, is that refusing to allow the KKK to participate in adopt-a-highway sets a dangerous precedent of regulating speech.

"It will be expanding the right of the state to engage in viewpoint discrimination," Smith said in a statement, explaining that if the state wins the case, it will be given "a license to refuse participation of individuals and groups whose speech the government disagrees with."

“Today it’s the KKK," Smith told the Post, "Tomorrow it’s journalists, lobbyists, religious evangelicals and even Black Lives Matter."

Of course, "slippery slope" arguments like that are a logical fallacy and can easily be argued in the other direction: Today it's a KKK sign, tomorrow it's a KKK billboard, a KKK recruitment center...

You get the picture.

Legal nuances aside, the case does raise a lot of difficult questions about our First Amendment right to free speech.

If it seems strange that the ACLU is defending a hate group's right to free speech, it's worth noting that the organization has a history of defending free speech for noted hate groups, including the American Nazi party and, on multiple other occasions, the KKK.

Anthony D. Romero, executive director of the ACLU in 2006. Photo by Karen Bleier/AFP/Getty Images.

And as tough as it may be to swallow, all of those parties do have the right to express their beliefs in America. That whole "I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend with my life your right to say it" thing isn't just a patriotic Instagram quote graphic; it's actually one of the things that makes America great.

The right to speak freely is a fixture of democracy that we take pretty seriously.

The right to free speech doesn't mean the right to free speech without consequences. Problems arise when what's being said goes beyond being just "disagreeable."

The KKK's message has always been one of hate and racism, and their history is deeply saturated in violence, murder, and rape.

If you're someone whose ideals are entrenched in violence and hate, one of the consequences of you exercising your right to free speech might just be your government telling you to please shut the hell up.

Yes, you. Photo by William Thomas Cain/Getty Images.

That's true for any entity. Free speech is often misinterpreted as the right to say or promote whatever you want wherever you want, but there are restrictions. For example, you can't yell "fire" in a movie theatre or promote violence against women on Facebook (though the latter is more recent and, disappointingly, only loosely enforced).

Things get more complicated when you're talking about governments, and the ACLU raises an interesting question about setting precedents that would allow the government to censor groups it simply doesn't agree with.

That's why laws about defining and litigating hate speech are still the subject of much debate and controversy here in America.

That's also why we have supreme courts. In this case, the Supreme Court of Georgia's job is to interpret the Constitution's assertion of "free speech."

Interpreting and defining just what the Constitution protects under the First Amendment is no easy task, especially because the parameters of "free speech" are constantly shifting, evolving, and growing on a case-by-case basis.

Just in the last couple of years, the United States Supreme Court has had to interpret and rule on free speech as it applies to animal cruelty, promoting illegal drug use, and abortion buffer zones.

Supreme Court justices are the final defenders and interpreters of our Constitution, and even they have to constantly rethink and reinterpret what the seemingly simple concept of "freedom of speech" actually means.

So when the Senate Judiciary Committee says it won't have any hearings to confirm a presidential appointment to the United States Supreme Court, they're not just playing politics. They're playing fast and loose with some of the most important moral and legal decisions this country has to make.

Sen. Mitch McConnell (R-Kentucky), who's said he will reject any Supreme Court nomination made by President Barack Obama. Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images.

We'll soon find out if the state of Georgia has the right to disallow a hate-group group from participating in the adopt-a-highway program that is open to any other citizen.

Whether you think censoring a hate group is the right thing to do or that to do so would set a dangerous precedent, this case shines a light on just how complicated free speech can be and how important cases like this are to pay attention to.

Freedom of speech is something many of us take for granted. But it can be challenged, expanded, or restricted as time goes on and culture changes. But it's an inalienable right that we'll have as long as there are people willing to defend it.

Teenagers are getting smarter. These days, they have to.

Take 15-year-old Isra Mohammed, for example.

Image via The Telegraph.

In the weeks after the terrorist attacks in Paris, she and other Muslims around the world have faced daily ridicule and hate attacks. Sad and frustrated, she decided to prepare a presentation for her entire school. By the end, they were all cheering.

Here are five poignant moments from Isra's speech:

1. "What are your thoughts on this picture?"

Photos via Library of Congress and Islamic State/Wikimedia Commons.

Isra opens by asking the audience to consider the images above overlaid with these words: "No one thinks that these people are representative of Christians. So why do so many think that these people are representative of Islam?"

These two hate groups have more in common than their tastes for creepy masks and mass murder. Both operate on the premise of hate and violence, guided by perverse interpretations of what are otherwise peaceful faiths.

Thankfully, we've never had to read headlines like, "Hate Attacks on White Christians Spike After Klan Terror Spree," because that would be terrible. Unfortunately, the same can't be said for innocent Muslims after deplorable acts of terror by ISIS and the like.

2. "People think that Muslim women ... have no rights."

Photo by Azlan Mohamed/Wikimedia Commons.

"But we do," Isra said. "Look at me, for example. I'm Muslim, I'm a girl, but I don't wear a head scarf. I have the right and freedom to wear one."

And that's true. Wearing a hijab (or any other type of head scarf) is a choice for the vast majorty of the hundreds of millions of Muslim women on this planet — not the mandate of a cruel god, ruler, father, or husband.

In fact, some women see wearing a hijab as a demonstration of freedom, spirituality, and strength. So they're really no more oppressive than these amazing leather pants:

Or anything else he's wearing, for that matter. Photo by HebiFot/Pixabay.

3. Islam "is a religion of peace and mercy."

Photo by Mohammed Huwais/AFP/Getty Images.

Isra explains that in the same way people say "good morning" on a daily basis, she says "as-salamu alaikum," which means "peace be upon you." Not exactly cause for hostility.

Of course, there's more to being Muslim than pleasant greetings. She also explains the pillars of Islam, which really aren't so different from what we see in other faiths.

A declaration of faith and commitment to prayer? We've all seen it.

Giving to charity? C'mon.

Practicing self-discipline and moderation through fasting? That's just ... healthy.

A once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage to Mecca? OK, that's one's more specific to Islam. But is it so unlike paying homage at a memorial for a loved one or one of your dearest idols?

The point is, everyone can find something good in common with Muslims. We just have to be open to it.

4. "If you are throwing out masses of hate, you are helping ISIS."

Photo by Bill Pugliano/Getty Images.

The global game plan of ISIS is pretty simple: build their ranks by building Islamophobia. So if you want the attacks to stop, Isra explains, it doesn't make sense to treat all Muslims like enemies of the state.

In other words, if you act like this...

Photo by Raphael1/Wikimedia Commons.

...you're part of the problem, not the solution.

Ironically, most ISIS victims are Muslims. So if anything, we should see Muslims as allies in the fight against terrorism. "ISIS is not Muslim," said Isra. "Terrorism has no religion. ... They have hijacked our religion and used it against us."

5. "How would you feel if that was you?"

Photo by Sameer Al-Doumy/AFP/Getty Images.

Isra closes by asking her classmates to put themselves in innocent Muslims' shoes — from her and her family, who face daily derision even as British citizens, to the Syrian refugees, whose homes and lives were destroyed but are met at new borders with skepticism and disdain.

How would you feel if that were you?

Watch Isra Mohammed's poignant speech: