BEING A SELF-HATING AMERICAN IS THE WORST THING YOU CAN BE.
As America prepares for its 250th anniversary, the first “American” Pope, Leo XIV, has sent his RSVP. He’s busy. Instead of standing in Philadelphia or D.C. to acknowledge the nation that birthed him, he’s opting for a photo-op on the island of Lampedusa. It is a stunning, yet perfectly predictable, masterclass in the “virtue” of self-hatred.
Robert Francis Prevost—the Chicago-born missionary who now wears the fisherman’s ring—is a archetype of a very specific, very modern American disease: the urge to be anywhere except home. Like the Peace Corps volunteer who flees the “bore” of domestic poverty to find “enlightenment” in a distant land, Leo XIV has spent a lifetime running. He spent decades in Peru, effectively scrubbing his American identity until he was “global” enough to be palatable to a Vatican that views the United States as little more than a bank account for its scandals.
By choosing a migrant landing point in the Mediterranean over the 250th birthday of his own country, Leo XIV isn’t just making a theological statement; he’s performing an act of national betrayal. He is the ultimate “Self-Hating American,” a man who views his own heritage as something to be apologized for or ignored in favor of the latest “worthy” cause that fits a safe, politically correct narrative.
This is the same spirit that animates the “poverty porn” industry at home. Look at projects like Soft White Underbelly. They don’t go into the hollows of Appalachia or the dying Rust Belt towns to offer a hand up. They go there to point a high-definition lens at human wreckage for the entertainment of a digital audience. It isn’t help; it’s exploitation. It’s a voyeuristic safari where the “self-hating” coastal elites can look at “toothless inbreds” and feel a smug sense of superiority. They don’t see suffering that needs a solution; they see content that needs a sponsor.
There is a glaring, ugly truth here: if the suffering involves white Americans, it is either mocked as “deserved” or ignored as “uninspiring.” If you are a struggling family in a coal town, you are a caricature. If you are a migrant on a beach, you are a saint in waiting. To the self-hating American, the further a problem is from their own backyard, the more “virtuous” it feels to solve it. Helping the poor in West Virginia doesn’t get you a standing ovation at a UN summit; it just makes you look like you’re helping people who “voted the wrong way.”
The Catholic Church—an institution currently propped up by the very “3rd world” devotees Leo XIV seeks to court—is now being led by a man who seems to despise the very soil he was raised on. It is a church that has lost its moral compass, trading its spiritual authority for the hollow praise of globalist NGOs.
We see right through it. We see a man who would rather pray with strangers on a foreign shore than stand with his own people in their hour of celebration. We see a media class that loves the “exploitative documentary” because it confirms their prejudices about the “unwashed” masses at home.
Being “self-hating” is the worst thing an American can be. It is a rejection of the only community you actually have a responsibility toward. Leo XIV might be the Pope of Rome, but to the people he left behind, he’s just another American who couldn’t wait to turn his back on home.
The Bible Verse
“But if anyone does not provide for his own, and especially for those of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.” > — 1 Timothy 5:8
Why I Chose This Verse
This verse is the biblical “smoking gun” for someone like the current Pope. It establishes a clear hierarchy of moral responsibility: you cannot claim to be a person of faith or a “good” leader if you neglect your own family and community to focus on others. A Pope who turns his back on his own suffering countrymen (like those in Appalachia) to prioritize foreign causes isn’t just making a political choice—he is, by biblical standards, failing a fundamental test of his office.
A Prayer for the Forgotten American
Heavenly Father,
We come to You today with heavy hearts for our nation, asking for Your hand of protection over the Americans who have been pushed to the margins of their own society. Lord, protect the worker in the hollow, the family in the Heartland, and the souls in the Rust Belt from the neglect of leaders who seek the world’s applause while ignoring the cries at their own doorstep.
Deliver us, O Lord, from the influence of the self-loathing—those who find more ‘virtue’ in a distant shore than in their own neighbor. Grant us leaders with the courage to love their own people first, and the wisdom to see through the exploitation of our struggle. Keep our hearts rooted in our home, our heritage, and our duty to one another, that we may never be strangers in our own land.
Amen.
