Quilting, sewing, stitching, creating blankets out of fabric has not only been a wonderful hobby for me, but it has brought me closer to my Aryan-woman roots.
I was not brought up in the traditional family, but was raised in the Jewish experiment called feminism. Tossed to and from different family members, educated in the public high schools and nourished on a diet rich in Jewish filth fed by the lights and sounds from a TV, I was the typical American child. I learned how to cook when I was 14, by working in a fast food restaurant. I learned how to mend holes with a safety pin, and I learned how to clean by pushing all my things under my bed.
With all these negative forces in my life, I yearned for something more meaningful, more traditional to what I had around me, which was directing me, brainwashing me.
I eagerly signed up for a “Home Economics” class. I learned how to stuff a cutout pillow and sew the ends up, along with the black boys and the chinko girls who sat in that class. That was the only “real” project I remember, the rest of the year was dedicated to watching videos of various “peoples” making their “ethnic” crafts. But I was proud of my white puppy pillow and displayed it on my bed for the next three years.
Always the creative one, I signed up for pottery classes, art classes anything to do with artistic ability. By the time high school indoctrination was over, my head was spinning and I was confused. I was looking for something but I didn’t know what it was. I was in a mad rush to find out who I was and what I was going to do with “my life.”
While visiting the local library, I noticed a huge genealogical center. “WOW!” I thought, “that’s what I’ll do, I’ll trace my family tree.” Quickly running home and writing out letters to my grandmothers and grandfathers I asked for names, dates and places as far back as they could remember. Soon I received my request. It turns out my great uncle on my father’s side had already done the genealogical record for the family. Apparently he traveled all over England and Australia for the information. This was amazing. Later I was able to search out my mother’s roots. The information came easily, and with the addition of the Internet in my life I was able to build on the information given by my grandparents. I felt connected to my past and my heritage.
Given that my mother was born to a Czechoslovakian mother and German father, and my father’s roots are primarily English and Scottish (which can be traced backed to the early 1600s I might add), I feel very connected to the White race.
This connection ensured the future choices I would make, even if subconsciously.
After marrying a White man and bearing children with him, I needed to find a hobby or a project I could call my own, besides staying home with the children. With simple coincidences that occurred, I was given a sewing machine by a woman family member, fabric from another and sewing instruction by another. I found encouragement through the women in my extended family to take up sewing. I was told making clothes for my children was less expensive than buying them new. I took up the challenge and learned how to make a slipstitch and used a sewing machine for the first time in my life at the age of 25. Twenty-five. Can you believe a twenty-five-year-old American Aryan woman was introduced to a sewing machine for the first time?
I find it astounding, but not surprising, that many American Aryan women over the age of twenty don’t know how to pick up a needle and thread. (And if they do, do they know what it is used for?)
Making dresses for my daughter was a ‘flop’ so I checked some books out at the library about patchwork and quilting. I read them front to back, learned the techniques shown, read the stories about the woman who made the quilts, learned how to take care of fabric, learned how to quilt, bind, label and hang a quilt. I learned about the history of quilts. Something kept striking right at me – each woman displayed next to the picture of the fabric artwork she created from her hands – was WHITE.
The pictures that came from the 1800s and early 1900s quilting bees – all Aryan woman, sitting and sewing, dressed in conservative dresses (button collar) and most likely talking about how best to take care of their husbands and how keep their kids out of trouble – looked like a Jewish man’s nightmare. These old pictures and the stories behind the quilting bees and the quilts themselves captivated me. It seemed every stitch, every piece of fabric told its own story of the perseverance and endurance of the White race.
Through quilting I have been able to connect to my Aryan sisterhood spirit. The Aryan sisterhood spirit isn’t the cheap, imitation plastic kind the Jews created, called feminism. It is the spirit of the Aryan woman’s heart: to create, to mend, to join together to form a collective whole that it is utilized in such a way to bring warmth, happiness and joy to its group.
I would encourage any Aryan woman, especially those who feel isolated at home with the children, to take up quilting. Learn how to use a needle and thread. Learn how to use a sewing machine. If expenses are a problem, you’ll be amazed what other quilters (mostly White women) will give and share with the beginners. Place a free ad in a local newspaper asking for donations. Find a quilter’s guild or a local quilters group in your area. The women who work at the fabric stores usually sew themselves and could recommend a group. There is truly an amazing network out there of Aryan woman who quilt and sew. Quilting has become such a healing remedy in my life I wanted to share this with the other Aryan woman out there.
Through quilting, a mother-and-daughter bond can form and be a lasting tie that binds the relationship. Being able to sit down together, a mother and daughter can talk about the daughter’s day and her life experiences, and this can produce tremendous benefits in the long run.