Why I Love European Women & Chose a European Wife
Someone once asked what I love about European women, and why I chose a European wife—out of the many women I otherwise could have chosen while traveling the world.
And I am fearless when it comes to celebrating my choice, as well as proud to belong to them.
At first glance, it sounds like a question about women.
In truth, though, it is a question about me.
I have never struggled to recognize beauty beyond one race or culture. I spent years in China, studied Chinese and Japanese, and met women throughout the world whom I found beautiful.
So, this was never about believing that only European women are attractive.
Beauty may inspire a man to do many things, but beauty alone cannot tell him whether he should build a house with her.
Marriage asks something heavier:
What kind of woman can stand beside the man you are becoming without requiring you to amputate any critical parts of yourself to keep the peace?
Before asking what kind of woman you want, forget women for a moment.
What kind of man do you intend to become?
What kind of father will you be?
What kind of house will you lead?
What ancestral skills will you place into the hands of your children?
I know my answers.
I am the kind of man who will take his children into the Alaskan wilderness and teach them survival, hunting, martial arts, horsemanship, and respect for a natural world that does not care about their feelings.
I want my children to inherit more than money. I want them to inherit competence, courage, culture, and the ability to remain useful when comfort disappears.
…and the life I live is as a part of building that legacy is absolutely not for every woman.
Nor should it be.
Some women admire the idea of a rugged man in the abstract, as one might admire a wolf through glass. The admiration changes, however, when the wolf comes home carrying the scent of blood, saltwater, and woodsmoke. When she discovers the difference between a cute weekend in the mountains and actually living that life.
A woman may find such a man exciting from a distance and exhausting from across the dinner table.
That does not make her inferior.
It makes her incompatible.
A woman suited to an urban life may look at the frozen, Alaskan mountains I call home and see only hardship. Another sees the same mountains and understands why a man might need them.
Race alone cannot explain that difference. “European woman” is far too broad. A rural Latvian woman and a metropolitan socialite may share a continent and a certain phenotypical aesthetic while possessing entirely different temperaments, goals, philosophies, and life expectations.
Culture divides into subculture. Subculture divides into families. Families divide into individuals.
Eventually, there is only the man and woman asking whether they can live honestly in the same home.
My years in the Chinese wilderness changed me.
Or, perhaps more accurately, they uncovered me.
There were parts of my personality sleeping beneath civilization’s noise—ancestral instincts and psychological capacities I had not yet needed. The mountains did not place them inside me. They merely gave them reason to awaken.
One may explain that through Jung, Joseph Campbell, inherited temperament, or dormant genes I unlocked.
What matters more, however, is the outcome of how I emerged as a different man once enduring four years in the military, and then another four years in the Chinese wilderness.
Then came the question: Around what kind of woman could that man remove his armor?
If a man must defend his nature inside his own home—if he must explain every instinct, soften every ambition, and apologize for every ancestral impulse—then he has not built a home.
He has constructed another battlefield.
What I love about my wife is not that she is Latvian alone, as an isolated, fetishized fact. I love that, through her particular character and culture, she understands much of me without requiring endless translation.
She helps create the peace in which I can continue becoming the man I am meant to be.
Behind closed doors, I can lower the gates.
I can remove my armor.
That vulnerability is not weakness. It is the reward a worthy woman receives from a man who trusts her not to strike the places he no longer protects.
However, admiration creates responsibility.
My approach was never to chase women indiscriminately, but to build value within myself and notice which women naturally responded to it. When a woman admires a man, she may grant him unusual influence over her emotions.
A corrupt man exploits that opening.
A worthy man guards it.
A man who cannot master his own shadow will eventually use a woman’s vulnerability against her.
Therefore, the goal is not to become powerful enough to dominate a woman. It is to become disciplined, strong, and powerful enough in my own actualization that the right woman can safely soften around you.
Some will insist my marriage must come from self-hatred, racial insecurity, colorism, or trophyism…but they are dead wrong.
I did not choose my wife by rejecting myself; I chose her by finally accepting the whole of myself—biologically, culturally, psychologically, and spiritually.
Accepting who I truly am as a part of the Jungian process of discovering which kind of “sleeping princess” that would awaken.
I did not select a race as though choosing a symbol.
I selected the woman most receptive to the man wrought from my actual life; the woman with whom I could build a strong house, raise capable children, preserve what is sacred to us, and experience peace with the fewest words needing to be spoken.
For another man, the correct woman may be different.
That is precisely the point.
Know thyself first.
Then pay attention to which woman awakens in the presence of that truth.
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