“Awful but not unlawful”: White nationalism is on the rise in Nova Scotia—and we need to talk about it.

Note to the reader: This post contains screenshots and references to anti-Semitic, misogynistic, and violent language. It may be triggering to individuals who have experienced online bullying or harassment. Please proceed with care.

We are witnessing a steep escalation in white nationalism in Nova Scotia.

This is not hyperbole.

I do not say this lightly. And I do not say it for effect.

I say this as someone who has long advocated publicly against white supremacy, misogyny, and systemic injustice—and who has faced abuse both online and in person because of it.

Many racialized and marginalized communities will tell you: this hate has never truly gone away. But now we’re seeing something else—something bolder, more organized, and more public. A wave of emboldened fascism and white nationalism is rearing its head in this province.

And we ignore it at our peril.

From shadows to spotlights

Inspired by the Trump administration and its normalization of hate, white nationalists and extremists have been stepping out of the anonymous shadows where they’ve long operated. They are organizing. Recruiting. Building digital echo chambers. And now, they are performing their ideology publicly, in our communities.

I live and work in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, on the unceded and ancestral territory of the Mi’kmaq people. I’ve written extensively about racism, misogyny, and the systemic rot of white supremacy in our institutions. I am not afraid to do so.

Unfortunately, I also live in close proximity to Jeremy MacKenzie—an alt-right provocateur and founder of “Diagolon,” a group flagged in multiple intelligence reports as a neo-fascist militia and hate group. He and his partner, Morgan May, frequently weaponize social media to harass and attack those who challenge their views.

A few weeks ago, MacKenzie and his followers staged a “photoshoot” at a local war memorial in Dartmouth. Most of the participants were masked—not for safety, but out of cowardice.

They claim this wasn’t a hate rally, but a video shoot for a group called “Second Sons Canada.” Their website—rife with pseudo-intellectual drivel—spins a narrative of white male victimhood and “European legacy.” It’s textbook aggrieved entitlement.

What is aggrieved entitlement?

Aggrieved entitlement is the belief that a dominant group—typically white, cisgender, heterosexual men—is being unfairly stripped of their historical privileges.

It’s the mindset that fuels so much of the misogyny, white supremacy, and anti-2SLGBTQAI+ rhetoric we see today. And it manifests in everything from online trolling to real-world violence.

Few illustrations of this concept are more powerful than this comic by artist Lilly O’Farrell (@vulgadrawings):

The very idea that marginalized people should have equal rights feels like oppression to those invested in dominance.

That’s why I was horrified—but not surprised—when I saw Diagolon and Second Sons staging their fascist cosplay at Sullivan’s Pond.

Online harassment turned real

Unsurprisingly, I decided to speak out about this. Hours after I saw the photo I sent out a post on X:

When I spoke out about this event online, I was met with a wave of harassment. This wasn’t new to me—but this time, it escalated.

A troll account followed by both MacKenzie and May posted a photo of my home online:

This was taken days after I posted on X. This was a clear attempt to intimidate me.

Another message threatened my dog, Rusty, using a Google Street View screenshot.

In addition to this, I received a barrage of anti-Semitic and misogynistic commentary.

MacKenzie and May wrote posts about how fat I was, and May even posted a photo of me with a pig’s face cut and paste over mine—an attempt to ridicule and shame me about my weight.

She then said there was no way I was attractive enough to be sexually assaulted.

Textbook.

This is the kind of misogyny that doesn’t wear camo or wave flags. It’s the kind steeped in internalized patriarchy. It shows up in everyday women—often white women—who would rather protect their proximity to power than confront the violence embedded within it.

When faced with accusations of propping up white supremacy, racism, and patriarchy, white women often reach for the one tool they believe will land the hardest: Attacking another woman’s desirability.

Because to them, a woman’s worth is still, by women like May, measured by her perceived attractiveness to men.

This is how internalized misogyny works. It makes violence palatable. It makes cruelty feminine. It turns women into weapons used against each other—all in service of the very systems we’re trying to dismantle.

And I won’t stand for it.

Not from men.

Not from women.

Not from anyone.

“Awful, but not unlawful”

When I reported the photo of the exterior of my home to police, the first question they asked me was:
“Can you just leave the platform?”

Then they asked:

I noted that the person posting was following and followed by MacKenzie and May and then their response was:

“Can you just make a new profile?”

That was their solution.

They called it “awful, but not unlawful.”

This phrase is haunting.

Because here’s the truth: white supremacy operates in the grey zones. In the gaps. In the places where harm is not technically illegal, but still deeply violent. Where the systems designed to protect us throw up their hands and look away.

It’s part of the playbook:

• Skirt the law.
• Weaponize fear.
• Harass, intimidate, and silence critics.
• Make people afraid to speak out.
  

This is what authoritarianism looks like in its early stages.

Just last week, Republican Senator Lisa Murkowski in the U.S.—one of the few who voted to impeach Trump—admitted publicly:

“We are all afraid.”
“There is a fear of retribution. A fear for our families.”

Tell me how that differs from what’s happening to me.

We must keep holding the line

You may ask:

“Liz, why poke the bear?”
“Why not stay quiet and protect yourself?”

Because silence is not safety.

Because being anti-racist and anti-oppressive means showing up, even when it’s dangerous.

Because the only way to stop fascism is to confront it.

I will not be bullied into silence.
Not now.
Not ever.

This is bigger than one person

The day after my house was doxxed, I sat in a room full of people trying to make politics safer.

A working group on harassment in politics. It was a conversation about the rise of targeted abuse against women and gender-diverse politicians.

Organizations like Equal Voice and Status of Women Canada have been trying to increase representation at every level of government. And yet—what we haven’t truly reckoned with is the cost women and marginalized folks pay just to have a voice in public.

As a white, cisgender, middle-aged woman with immense privilege and resources, I have the ability to speak up. I have the capacity to fight back.

But what about the folks who don’t?

What about Black, Indigenous, racialized, trans, and disabled women?

What about the people who face compounded threats, systemic erasure, and daily violence just for daring to exist in political and public life?

This isn’t just about me.

This has never been just about me.

This is about a growing and global movement that seeks to punish anyone who challenges its dominance.
A movement that grooms people—especially men—into believing that equality is oppression, and that violence is a righteous response.

And to those of you who are holding the line:
I see you.
I’m with you.
Keep going.

Liz LeClair is a gender-based violence advocate and activist based in Punamu’kwati’jk (Dartmouth, Nova Scotia). She volunteers with Can’t Buy My Silence and is a member of the gender-based violence coalition.

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This article appears in Apr 1-30, 2025.