I met her in a San Francisco bar—a big, straw-blond girl with a baseball cap jerked backward on her head, wearing a flight jacket and red braces, her blue eyes lined in black. Looking like the girl who crashed the boys’ clubhouse. Liz B. is a white power skinhead, a recruiter for the American Front, a self-described “white supremacist feminist”—and the most self-assured 22-year-old I’ve ever met.