We fear acknowledging biological differences because we don't want to lose our personalities--we think that we are our intelligence; that our character is defined by our abilities; and, accordingly, if genes affect our intelligence or behavior, then we are our genes, ergo the suggestion of, say, group differences, shatters us. If African intelligence falls within a certain range, so too does ours, ergo everything that we wanted to believe was special about us is merely the by-product of recursive molecular calculus, forever seeking the entropy of the mean.
We seek immortality in our worldviews. Some deny that genes are relevant, thereby claiming their "selves" as wholly their own; their predilection for the violin, humor, or cross-country racing a result of their choices, and thereby an expression of their character. This is, in a sense, a Christian, which is to say, a purloined Zoroastrian, choice: a rejection of one's ancestors, one's planet, one's star, and one's versal legacy, and a corresponding embrace of self-generated, non-predetermined choices, crafting the individual. One can then believe that one is an expression of that unique oneness, whether or not this "free will" is ascribed to a system of belief. Even if we ourselves die, the fact that we made choices means that we had agency to influence reality, and that agency gives us a participatory immortality. We were, because we defined our own choices. Therefore the evil must be genetic determinism. Crime cannot be hereditary, or at least not decisively so, because to permit that would be to concede that our specialness is not very special, ergo we are temporary flickers of pointless consciousness and the terror overtakes us.
Some of us pursue immortality in the opposite way, by embracing the gene as an expression of a collective personality. "We are our ancestral legacy, and it is us." Our characters and abilities are unique, yet collectively so, being an expression of the decree of god or nature. If we die, but our people live on, we are immortal through them. Therefore we cherish and preserve that legacy, secretly fearful of how it came to be and what it might one day be. Those who resist that legacy in any form are evil incarnate: non-breeding queers, or those who deviate from what we ourselves want to be; those who deviate from the production of future genetic carriers and transmitters threaten our very existence. In them we see the end coming, and the terror overtakes us.
The religious chooser, the genetic determinist, make similar errors, for they see only one part of the structure. We wear our bodies subject to their gradual design, which is integrated with this place. Those affect us, and, to some degree, are us, just as the light we ride to come here is a current made of us and not-us. If "I" come here, I become part of here, logged in to Terra and Sol, part of this place and this history, and affected correspondingly. Maybe my shell constricts or expands what I might otherwise express; maybe I am trapped, and maybe I am released. In either case, I need not be afraid. Subject to the urges of this thing, I might be an exemplary citizen of the appropriate time and place, or the worst of citizens. What I do with this body, this time, will shape this world, this body's legacy, and what I or you take away from it.
We need not deny the unpleasant realities of material constraints in order to accept the sensation of something transmaterial. It is currently vulgar to either accept or deny them. Instead, we believe in willpower. Although often accused of neglecting Nietzsche, we are all in fact supermen, believing that our willpower negates, or can negate, the effects of being here. We will invent a cure for stupidity. We will invent a cure for death. We will invent a cure for taxes. Each harder than the next, but we're all secretly sure that we're on a path to these goals.
You wanted to be a gorgeous female, but you came here as a so-so female. You wanted to be a gorgeous female, but you came here as a so-so male. How different are these quandaries? Being happy with anything less than your highest dreams is nothing more than fat acceptance. Ergo you are either a sub-intelligent drone, a liar, or someone who essentially believes in fat-acceptance. Settling for any of this is failure. The western world's self-esteem craze paid dividends in the form of all of us believing that our selves--these constantly breaking, hideously unresponsive decay-bags you have to wear here--are in some way vested with finitely-deserved or infinitely-contributing potential.
Our choices made us? Think of it as two levels of choice: the choice of what to trap yourself here inside, and the choice of what to do with it once you wake up believing this is all there is.