We are in the midst of a gigantic crisis of identity. Every part of our particular identity has been reviled, torn apart, stolen from us. Instead we have a pseudo-humanism where we are invited to dissolve and a soy culture which makes any healthy man queasy. The past has been taken away and the official view of the future holds nothing good. Those in charge ignore us, dismiss our lives and needs, and ultimately do whatever they can to destroy us on every plane.

In such adverse conditions it is rather difficult to commit to anyone or anything. When you cannot identify with anyone or anything, when the land and people who were your extended home and family turned foreign, you become an atom. There is no national community or whatever. The luckiest still have a good family and long-time friends. The others are prey for organized groups and cunning exploiters.

To a millennial it is very easy to feel hopelessly alone. Your family is leftist and blue-pilled or the leftists dominate it and impose the same dictatorship at family events than the mainstream media. Boomers live in a bubble and keep steering the ship to its doom as long as they maintain their own comfort. Girls are narcissistic and range from cold to hostile. Female hypergamy goes unchecked. Companies are greedy and want you to work and consume at a near-slave wage. Parasites abound, everywhere. Thugs roam with impunity. The official culture tells you you’re shit, if it feigns to speak about you at all. The official West is made of a clustering of evil crybullies who gloat about destroying the actual Western civilization, that is, us.

There are many ways to answer this puzzling, yet pressing set of circumstances. The manosphere has long advocated getting one’s life back from the blue pill set of illusions and growing the balls to succeed. Whether it is picking up girls, learning a trade, lifting, managing one’s expenses or understanding what’s really going on, the quest is always about reclaiming one’s life. Milk the system or the pit if you can, but never remain dependent. Bulking on a budget is part of the path towards reclaiming ourselves.

Brad Pitt may be a steaming turd but Tyler Durden never gets old.

However, the red pill per se is not enough. Getting your life back makes you a sigma male, an individualist. Striving on this path brings personal successes, but deep down, you’re still alone. Likewise, knowing the truth about the cultural fight and the elite does not solve much: to the contrary, comparing your smallness with the elite’s might gives a rather depressing perspective.

And I went to the angel and said, “Give me the small scroll.” “Take it and eat it,” he said. “It will make your stomach bitter, but in your mouth it will be sweet as honey.” So I took the small scroll from the angel’s hand and ate it; and it was sweet as honey in my mouth, but when I had eaten it, my stomach turned bitter. (Revelation, 10:9-10)

No identification mean no altruism, no solidarity—just savviness. Among the red-pilled, some manage to put themselves on the right path. They usually make friends and gain social experience along the way. Some, however, go from failure to failure, or they have been so traumatized by the Big Others’ nefarious choices—whether it consists in being systematically passed out by girls and recruiters, attacked by non-whites, or feeling one’s general disenfranchisement—they can’t even get up and start. Post-traumatic growth can be hard to get, especially when the climate is like it has been tailored to disgust you again every day.

This cannot lead to fulfillment. Truth doesn’t solve your problems. As Roosh mentioned recently, at this step, it is all too easy to slide from the red to the black pill. Then, at best, you join the system’s forces cynically like one of these male feminists who practice actual harassment while pointing a finger at other males, and at worst, you become the next Elliot Rodgers.

The Black Pill is the least dialectical of the three. It leads from actual inferiority back to actual inferiority. It is nihilism, but nihilism made flesh calls forth absolute egoism, a sense of the self detached from wider contexts and responsibilities—it is this that makes it evil and murderous… The Black Piller chooses neither the palliatives of illusion nor the challenge of positive action. He stares into the abyss—passively because his actions will never be capable of changing it—and, as Nietzsche so pertinently observed, the abyss stares back. (Colin Liddell, “The Black Pill”)


The change comes and can only come when you stop being a sigma. To a sigma everything and everyone is basically foreign, with at best a conquered identity restricted to the individual. Getting real friends, finding one’s civilizational, spiritual, racial, historical roots, or starting a tribe all allow the disenfranchised sigma to expand healthily whom he is as to identify outwards again. Then, and only then, does the world matter again. You’re not an atom who manages to rack up some notches or money or laughs before drowning in the unavoidable Kali Yuga tide, but part of a wider being who ought to survive and thrive.

Building a home, or a tribe, matters. It is even more so when your spouse is pregnant—and you know she didn’t have sex with anyone else. Now I would not advocate with impregnating unreliable grrls. They may put all the burden of responsibility on you, cheat on you, or divorce-rape you so that you’d be forced to pay alimony while the bones of your bones has to cross the hell of step families at an early age. To a responsible man, finding a decent, trustworthy partner is absolutely crucial before any thinking of fathering takes place. Many men, especially those living in the West, might find easier to start a tribe with fellow aspiring patriarchs than a nuclear family.

If, however, you’re lucky enough to find a suiting girl, and are ready to leave the PUA life behind, having children is the way to go. These small beings carry your genes. When they grow up, they are to become like you, because they embody the same glorious bloodline you did just before. Boomers may not be glorious parents, it doesn’t matter, as long as they played their vessel role on the behalf of something but wider.

When you’re alone, the future is something conceptual and dreamy. When you’re in a tribe, it relates to how you and others are doing in local situations. When you have children, it becomes a real issue: you know the world must be yours again, not only out of justice, but so that there’s a future at all. Children need a proper environment to grow and roam into. They also contribute to strengthen their parents’ bonds, thus helping the family to project itself far into the future.

“Yes, I’m the future. Now let me take a nap.”

Fighting for ourselves is fair. We have legitimate interests. Our feelings are right, based on truth and justice, not on an occult war for degeneracy. But when it comes to children, it is definitely fairer than anyone could spin. Building a fair, truthful, leftism-free world becomes a life issue. Our children ought to grow healthily, safe from degeneracy and certainly not being stolen, brainwashed or even raped. Defeating leftist degeneracy, making the world we live in traditional again becomes as important as finding food after a workout. How could we fear for something as trivial as the normies’ judgments when our children’s identity and dignity is at stake?

Children are also a perfect reason to openly confront the boomers, these egoist parasites who keep most of the wealth to themselves and devour it while compromising continuously with groups that kill us. These old cucks who failed to respect their own parents are now asking us, not only to “respect” them, but also to submit completely to their cucked views as if we had no right to proper experience, consciousness, or free will.

Beforehand, confronting them was about truth, justice, and the future of our civilization. Now, it is about continuing life, about beating death—no less. Boomers do not hold the future of life and civilization between their hands. We do. Because we’re having the children now. And these chirping, wide-eyed babies are much worthier of care and “respect” than the boomers’ lies and will to keep living above their means.

If we are to be kings, at least in our homes, we are not to be depopulated at will. We have an absolute right to a future—a bright, dignified future, for those whose creations were appropriated by everyone else on Earth.

Just like the red pill or the first notch, having a child is a new beginning.

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