It’s incredible what a broke guy does to get out of poverty. After the tragedy that occurred in my family, the central subject of my series of books Hojas Susurrantes, I ended up without profession or a job. Through the internet I met a woman from an island just off the southwest coast of mainland Morocco, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria. Teresa proposed marrying me so that I may obtain work permit in Spain. Though we never married, and although there was never intimacy between us, Teresa initiated the paperwork as if she was my employer so that, with time, I could obtain work permit. Since I originally believed that this was altruistic help I accepted in order to break away from my family’s future inheritance and, finally, be free to publish my Hojas Susurrantes about them.
So I embarked on an adventure to this island just about sixty miles west from Africa. Neither Teresa (“Tere”) nor I suspected that the 2008-2009 economic crisis that hit Spain would severely worsen during the time I stayed there. Thousands of the island’s citizens lost their jobs. I was not even a Canarian and under those circumstances I lived ten months in the island.
Ironically, thanks to the unemployment I educated myself. I used those long months to read lots of articles in the blogosphere about the Islamization of Europe, and even about the possible extinction of the white race. I basically entered Gran Canaria as a liberal and left it as a racialist. Since, in good faith, I always talk about my projects and readings, I committed the mistake of telling Tere that I was involved in the counter-jihad movement; that is, the movement in the blogosphere concerned about the islamization of the West.
What a blunder… In the following months that I lived in Tere’s flat, unable to get out for lack of a job in a broke Spain, Tere harassed me with phone calls, e-mails and, when she visited her native island (she works in Madrid), even personally. But I’m getting ahead of our story.
The days in which Tere gave me a tour through the island I witnessed how she approached the employees of the shops with questions in very bad mood. When I confronted her about this sort of behavior she replied that we were too susceptible; that she was a courageous woman and that the people simply misunderstand her passion. In a couple of e-mails she told me that her moods formed part of “her always critical and questioning nature.” She also wrote:
“It’s true that I can be very intense or passionate in discussions, something that some people misinterpret as irritation or anger.”
In these entries we will see what these “misinterpretations” really were, and why I consider her case a perfect paradigm to understand those cases of Western self-hatred that our current models—Jewish problem, “economics over race” policies, and the moral grammar that comes with our parents’ religion—simply cannot account for.