upworthy

white nationalism

More

How a former skinhead came around to befriending his black parole officer.

'I look at her as family.'

The first racist tattoo Michael Kent got were the words "white pride," spanning the top of his back.

GIF via ABC News.

Then came the two swastikas — one in the center of his chest — that stained his skin for over 20 years, ABC News reported.

Kent used to be a white supremacist.

"I was part of a skinhead group," Kent, who lives in Colorado, told ABC. "A very violent group."

He believed strongly in the organization's ideals. For instance, Kent refused to work for anybody — or even with anybody — who wasn't white.

GIF via ABC News.

But one woman made him rethink everything.

Tiffany Whittier, who is black, became his parole officer. Meeting her changed his life for good.

GIF via ABC News.

She was a positive force in his life and challenged him to rethink how he viewed race and equality.

"I had a German war [Nazi] flag, and she said, 'You need to take that crap down and start putting up more positive stuff!'" Kent told ABC News. "'Put up smiley faces so when you wake up, you see positive instead of hate.'"

Her encouragement worked; Kent's outlook and attitudes have changed dramatically since befriending Whittier.

It's not necessarily surprising, either — this change in mindset goes hand-in-hand with research. A 2014 study, for example, found that when white people interact with more people of color, they're less likely to hold racist views.

"If it wasn't for her, I probably would have been seeped back into [white supremacy]," Kent explained. "I look at her as family."

Now, Kent's "white pride" and swastika tattoos have been removed by Redemption Ink, a nonprofit that offers free removals of hate-inspired designs to patrons. All of his coworkers at the Colorado chicken farm where he works — as well as most of his friends — are people of color.

“We have company parties, or they have quinceaneras, BBQs, or birthday parties — I’m the only white guy there," Kent said.

GIF via ABC News.

Whittier modestly brushed off the affect she's had on Kent: "My job is to be that positive person in someone's life," she said. "[I] try to make a difference."

But to Kent — a father to two young children — Whittier's nothing short of heroic. "She gave me the strength and the courage to do what I'm doing," he said. "She gave me a chance, and it opened my eyes."

ABC News facilitated a surprise reunion between the two, who hadn't seen each other in over a year.

Whittier was in on the plan, but Kent — who seemed a bit lost for words as he embraced her in a hug — was beyond excited to see the friend who changed his life forever.

Watch the beautiful moment in the video below:

From Your Site Articles
More

A former white supremacist describes the time he changed his mind and 'life after hate.'

He helped build the modern white supremacist movement. Now he's trying to tear it down.

Peace activist and founder of Life After Hate Christian Picciolini has a surprising past: He used to be a neo-Nazi.

After getting kicked out of four high schools, Picciolini became involved with Chicago Area Skinheads, the first neo-Nazi skinhead organization in the U.S., during his teens.

By the time he turned 16, Picciolini had already taken on a leadership role within the organization, helping shape the modern white supremacist movement in the U.S.

"They promised me paradise," he says. "They promised me that the bullies would go away, that my life would get better, that I’d have a family that I was looking for, and that I would have a sense of purpose."

GIFs by Upworthy.

So what made Picciolini change his mind and turn his back on the neo-Nazi movement?

His journey from extremist to activist for peace began with conversation. In the mid-1990s, Picciolini ran Chaos Records, a Chicago record store known for its collection of white power music. It was there that he first began to have meaningful interactions with some of the same people he'd spent years of his life hating. The more he spoke with them, the harder it was to justify his hateful beliefs. Soon after, he abandoned the white supremacist movement and began making amends.

Now Picciolini spends his days trying to help others leave the movement he helped create.

Through his work with Life After Hate, a group he co-founded, Picciolini helps others leave extremist movements and leave behind lives of violence and hate. For him, it's all part of an effort to right the wrongs he's committed and to make up for the harmful ideology he helped craft.

But even decades removed from his contributions to the neo-Nazi movement, some of his influence can't be undone.

Despite his efforts, Picciolini's past beliefs live on in a number of forms, including the "alt-right" movement.

The name may change, but the ideology of white supremacy remains largely the same. Even worse, these ideas that were once seen only in fringe elements of society are creeping into the cultural mainstream. That's by design, and no one understands this better than Picciolini, who says that the "alt-right" movement has a plan to bring its ideology into the mainstream. And — horrifyingly — it's working.

"Don’t get tattooed, don’t shave your head, stop wearing a Klan hood, don’t wave a swastika flag," Picciolini says of the alt-right's strategy for creating a more palatable white supremacy movement. "Wear a suit and tie, go to college, blend in and mainstream the ideology. And in fact, that’s what we’re seeing now."

That's why it's important that we collectively continue to push back against hatred in all its forms.

It's important to remember that no one is truly beyond help. Picciolini's story of ongoing redemption can teach us all a lot about what it means to own up to the mistakes of your past and to help build a better world. Hatred might live on in America, but Picciolini's story should give us hope that it can be defeated.

To learn more about Picciolini's work, you can check out Life After Hate or read his 2015 book "Romantic Violence: Memoirs of an American Skinhead."

Trending Stories