The Life and Death of a Skin

[Henry_Taylor 37]

Mein Kompf. The strongest piece of literature for the white male or anybody that thinks the way they do. 'My Fight' written and published by Adolf Hitler in 1925. A good 15 years before the start of World War 2. It just goes to show that power is already destined for those who crave it most. 

My story begins in February of 1979. I was born in Los Angelas, California to my mother, father and sister Sarah. Growing up in a community mostly dominated by blacks wasn't the easiest thing to overcome. But as you get older you form your opinions on other people's thoughts and outlooks on life. For me it was my grandfather who fought in World War 2 in The Third Reich. 

And I read his journal everyday for 6 years until I decided to form my own opinions and stop following others. And that was my first real move into what I became. I became a man who killed black people because of the way they looked. Killed Mexicans because of the way they smelled. Harassed Jews because of the stereotypes brought on by them.

In around 1991 my friend Hanshi and I started up a new era of an already dying breed. A gang of white men who wanted to rebel to regain control of the future. Tri City Skins. Killing any and all colored people because of what we were taught and what we had seen. Suburban America can kiss my ass because we were the ones who struggled with our identities. Not what dress we're gonna wear to prom.

But before that... Before Hanshi even. There was Marcus Hawkins. An African American male who bullied my friends and me relentlessly through Freshman Year of Highschool. Beat us up, call us names and threaten to hurt my family. And I took it because I was afraid of what would happen if I stood up. I thought that if I stood up somehow it would be worse.

After so many years of being followed home getting called names I had enough. I shaved my head until every little hair was gone. I wanted to be as smooth as a marble. And all night I flipped my switchblade in and out. Practicing and getting my fingers toughened up. And then the next day after a long day of humility and torture I turned right instead of left. I took Marcus into an alley and stabbed him fourteen times in the stomach. And I walked away like nothing ever happened.

More will be continued I guess.

[Henry_Taylor 37]

The day after of my previous entry. I walked away like nothing happened. I was happy with what I did not because I was blood hungry or heartless. But because I was helping people who couldn't help themselves. My friends who were nerds that played Dungeons And Dragons. And don't worry, I used to play it with them.

But I didn't care about Marcus. Just one more spook gone right? Yeah that's what I though too. But when you're walking to school in the morning and you can see a grown woman sitting on the porch waiting for her son to come home crying, and you know that because of what you did he won't ever come back. You feel a sense of guilt and remorse for the person you killed.

A couple months later I was introduced to Charles Manson, not in person of course. But I had read up on him and studied him. He became my new idol for a while. And then I was introduced to Greg Chib. He was the current leader of The Gemini's and he killed any colored person that walked funny. And to know there were other people who thought like me and acted like me was reassuring when I thought I was alone.

Hansi and I joined the Gemini's and for years we both made violent reputations for ourselves. Eventually gaining full control of a gang that was dead. We rebuilt for the ground up and made it more ruthless. I wasn't East Side and he was Central. And we ruled for a very long time.

[Henry_Taylor 37]

I eventually went to prison for 3 years for past mistakes that won't be made again. I was locked in there with 400 other people that were either crazier than me or tougher than me. I joined up with The Aryan Brotherhood for a while and when I knew they were a bunch of fuck heads I bounced out. Tri City had a gang in the joint and I was Leader. Recruited stray white boys that weren't up to Aryan standards or were too afraid to approach them. 

I ran gambling and boxing matches from inside prison that paid top dollar. People died but fuck it, so will I someday. And if they got a problem with me still they can settle it then. What's done is done right?... Yeah.

In prison I met this guy who said his dad was a convicted felon for the dumbest shit. Either jaywalking that lead to assaulting an officer or smoking a cigarette that was said to be weed by the cops. I knew that racial tensions were high but damn.

He was one of my closest friends by time I got out and I told my boys that when I leave nothing happens to him or else they all die. I had gotten out of jail in 1998 and was looking to go legit.

[Henry_Taylor 37]

After about a year of silence and not feeling like I was gonna get shot in the head my old friend Hanshi decided to pay me a visit. With the Skins on a slight downfall from my departure he wanted me to go back. I honestly didn't wanna do it but he's a friend.

I went back to work with him on one condition, I don't shave my head anymore. I was trying to maintain the legitimacy of my nature. I wasn't going back to that hell hole.

We'd drive around and reminisce of the old days and laugh all night. Things felt normal but they weren't. Secretly I had changed. But I couldn't tell him that. Not yet at least