With the World Cup now resolved to its final, there’s hardly an athletic event to pique my interest until the 2017 Maccabiah Games. Though one imagines by that breathless summer all American residential structures will be designated as public accommodations, and thus subject to the wise progressions of Latina jurisprudence.

So I anticipate the pleasant trill of mariachi music emanating from the penumbras of my east wing, where seven formerly itinerant families from Guadalajara will have taken root. Those dulcet tones will offer a compelling score for those dramatic moments when my public accommodation–or heretofore “home”–is disturbed by peals of Spanish braying. This a nightly occurrence when the pregnant teenaged daughter of my neighbor/roommates is visited by her boyfriend, recently invigorated by MS-13 induction and a pint of 10-peso mescal. Of course tempers will tend to flare in the unairconditioned summers of rolling brown-outs. And so how refreshing in contrast will be the cool stainless steel of his revolver as it is used mischievously to wipe the nervous grease from my gringo brow.

But I’ve gotten a bit ahead of myself.

Let’s talk about the freedom of association. It would seem fundamental to any raft of liberties that a man could select his own associations by whimsy. Who one chooses to lavish with their presence is hardly a matter requiring explanation, unless it is to spouse or God. But this is modern America, and it has been a long time since you heard someone of sober mind say earnestly, “It’s a free country.”

So it’s strange to imagine that what must have been so obvious as to not warrant mention wasn’t actually developed as explicit legal doctrine in America until the 1950s. This as an appeasement to black agitations for self-organization–or something like that . What emerged from the cases put before our most eminent tribunal is that people do have a right to organize and join associations of like-minded others.

That seems reasonable. So a group of men can create a formal association, establish membership parameters of their choosing, police those boundaries stringently, and refuse entry or interaction with those outside these boundaries. No, don’t be ridiculous. That’s discrimination, and it’s illegal. See freedom of association means you may associate with (for example) blacks, browns, yellows, and taupe. Non-discrimination means you will associate with them. That’s what freedom is all about: helping you make difficult decisions. Though if you remain unconvinced that certain non-associations are impermissible, just try to establish an organization for jews, blacks, amerinds, or asians only. Well, perhaps that’s not the best example.

Though now that we understand some working concepts, who is familiar with the Freedom of Association in Westchester County, New York? Here is one article. And here is another. Basically, a county took the Faustian bargain of federal handouts and subsequently learned that their tree-lined residential suburbs didn’t feature nearly enough low rent apartments and Section 8 gunfire. Uh-oh.

According to the federal department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD, contemptuously) Westchester county does have its rights. It has the right to spend at least $51 million dollars to build 750 units of housing for lower income people in 31 so-called eligible or mostly white communities by the end of 2016. We all understand to whom “lower income” euphemistically refers. Though stipulating that these units will specifically be targeting “mostly white communities” is quite a stark fang baring from the government. Not only will you build them housing, you’ll build it right beside you.

And there it is: forced integration, busing for after school—and you pay the bill. This is dispossession at the personal level. It is a once flaccid totalitarianism becoming pleasantly engorged. It is taking your community, your home value, and your social capital and shitting it out on the sidewalk. Why? Raysis, that’s why. And it will remain why until either a people or the piety that binds them has lost everything.

Though back to 2017—Once HUD has peremptorily rezoned your house as multi-family and an impressive immigrant caravan disgorges its clown-car inventory with housing vouchers in hand, will you recall your freedoms of association? Perhaps an old mariachi tune well help.