Polish women aren’t what the Western women were before feminism. The situation of women here was never as bad as in the West, so there was no need for a social revolution like that. Polish women were granted equality earlier than in the US and there were no feminist demonstrations needed to achieve it.

They are intelligent and well educated, and so they were 200 years ago. Many of them were freedom fighters and scholars (see Emilia Plater or Marie Curie). They are strong and independent and they know that, but they also care for tradition and family values. A Polish career oriented woman can go very high, and there are no legal requirements for companies to accept them as managers; they are accepted upon their merits just as men. But in the same time the women want to be wives and mothers, they don’t think they have to choose. They want to have a normal family because it’s important to them no less than their career. So they spend as much time with their kids as possible and do everything in their power to create them a warm and great home. Their husbands share their responsibilities, clean, take care of children etc. But it’s all based on partnership and both sides’ working together to achieve their personal success as well as professional.

In the same time Polish women like to be women, and they love men. They like to flirt and be cherished by them. They want to feel attractive and appreciated. Feminism in the West was a struggle of women against their men. There was nothing like that here, where men and women fought together against their enemies.

That’s why feminism is rejected here by so many women. It tells them to become someone they don’t want to be. They don’t want to be men in skirts. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have a family, a loving relationship and great kids along with professional career.

But you CAN’T HAVE a Polish woman. Instead you can have a great relationship with her. The language you use and the way of your thinking comes from the times where a woman in the West was a property of her husband. A Polish man never owned his wife. The women here always had a high respect and position in the society and independence to a great extent. If you want to be with a Polish woman you can’t show her her place. Instead you might trust and love her and she’ll repay you with the same.

A Polish man doesn’t show off his girlfriend like a prize poodle because she’s not one. They are a man and a woman, partners, best friends and lovers, with distinct personalities, each different according to their own sex, but each similar in their minds, respectful, able to emotionally trust and open to the other. They’re not insecure because they’re very close and loyal. There’s no need to put a chain where there’s confidence. They know that what they have is great and intimate and they’re not going to lose it just because a woman or a man are great lookers and attract others. The emotional and intellectual sphere in a relationship is very important for Poles.

If you find a great Polish woman that you want to be with, learn to talk to her, be sincere and honest and you two will find a way to complement each other in a rewarding relationship. But if she doesn’t feel free she’ll run away, because Poles love freedom above all. They are ready for any sacrifice as long as it’s their choice, but they can’t be forced or owned.

A quote from “Life of Chopin” by Franz Liszt (I don’t think the Polish women have changed at all):

In very truth are not the Sclavic women utterly incomparable? There are to be found among them those whose qualities and virtues are so incontestable, so absolute, that they are acknowledged by all ages, and by all countries. Such apparitions are always and everywhere rare. The women of Poland are generally distinguished by an originality full of fire. Parisians in their grace and culture, Eastern dancing girls in their languid fire, they have perhaps preserved among them, handed down from mother to daughter, the secret of the burning love potions possessed in the seraglios. Their charms possess the strange spell of Asiatic languor. With the flames of spiritual and intellectual Houris in their lustrous eyes, we find the luxurious indolence of the Sultana. Their manners caress without emboldening; the grace of their languid movements is intoxicating; they allure by a flexibility of form, which knows no restraint, save that of perfect modesty, and which etiquette has never succeeded in robbing of its willowy grace. They win upon us by those intonations of voice which touch the heart, and fill the eye with tender tears; by those sudden and graceful impulses which recall the spontaneity and beautiful timidity of the gazelle. Intelligent, cultivated, comprehending every thing with rapidity, skillful in the use of all they have acquired; they are nevertheless as superstitious and fastidious as the lovely yet ignorant creatures adored by the Arabian prophet. Generous, devout, loving danger and loving love, from which they demand much, and to which they grant little; beyond every thing they prize renown and glory. All heroism is dear to them. Perhaps there is no one among them who would think it possible to pay too dearly for a brilliant action; and yet, let us say it with reverence, many of them devote to obscurity their most holy sacrifices, their most sublime virtues. But however exemplary these quiet virtues of the home life may be, neither the miseries of private life, nor the secret sorrows which must prey upon souls too ardent not to be frequently wounded, can diminish the wonderful vivacity of their emotions, which they know how to communicate with the infallible rapidity and certainty of an electric spark. Discreet by nature and position, they manage the great weapon of dissimulation with incredible dexterity, skillfully reading the souls of others with out revealing the secrets of their own. With that strange pride which disdains to exhibit characteristic or individual qualities, it is frequently the most noble virtues which are thus concealed. The internal contempt they feel for those who cannot divine them, gives them that superiority which enables them to reign so absolutely over those whom they have enthralled, flattered, subjugated, charmed; until the moment arrives when–loving with the whole force of their ardent souls, they are willing to brave and share the most bitter suffering, prison, exile, even death itself, with the object of their love! Ever faithful, ever consoling, ever tender, ever unchangeable in the intensity of their generous devotion! Irresistible beings, who in fascinating and charming, yet demand an earnest and devout esteem! In that precious incense of praise burned by M. de Balzac, “in honor of that daughter of a foreign soil,” he has thus sketched the Polish woman in hues composed entirely of antitheses: “Angel through love, demon through fantasy; child through faith, sage through experience; man through the brain, woman through the heart; giant through hope, mother through sorrow; and poet through dreams.” [Dedication of "Modeste Mignon"]

The homage inspired by the Polish women is always fervent. They all possess the poetic conception of an ideal, which gleams through their intercourse like an image constantly passing before a mirror, the comprehension and seizure of which they impose as a task. Despising the insipid and common pleasure of merely being able to please, they demand that the being whom they love shall be capable of exacting their esteem.

My first boyfriend ever was born in Poland, but he and his parents immigrated here to the USA when he was a baby. But he grew up in a very Old World culture due to his family, and he was a great guy.

I currently live in a heavily EE immigrant community here in the US, and the Russian men are very courteous, friendly and nice.