Racism with a Twist of Sexual Harassment— Latina Fetish-tinis
By: Coka Brown
Tags: Racism, Women, Sexism, Latinos, Sexual Harassment

Summer 2018. Cubicle land. Low, bland, flimsy walls separated work stations. I confided in two co-workers, both white men whom I’ll call Derek and Greg, that I had been sexually harassed by two other male co-workers. Derek and Greg were shocked. They couldn’t understand how their buddies had behaved so disrespectfully to me when they acted cool with them.

“There must be something about you. Look at John,” Greg said, referring to a different co-worker of ours who was inappropriate with me via instant messenger. Greg continued, “Maybe they see you as a stereotype.”

Huh? I had no clue what he meant by that.

“What do you mean?” I asked him.

Greg looked at Derek for help. I pressed again, “What do you mean?”

Derek stammered, “He means some people of certain ethnic groups are seen a certain way.” I gave him the “go on” look and asked again what he meant. He said, “Well some Latin men think some Latin women will react a certain way to certain behavior.”

Chickenshits. This evasion came from a guy who once made a jab about a female co-worker for her weight and said “Oh I’m an asshole just because I’m being honest?”

I never did get a clear answer from Derek or Greg. The exchange stayed with me and nagged at me.

Days later, I went to lunch with a couple of other co-workers, one female, one male. Both white. I’ll call them Wendy and Louie. It turned out that Wendy also had not-so-pleasant experiences with one of the men I had trouble with at work, the one who put his hands on my back at a happy hour when he hugged me goodbye and told me I had a nice ass as he inched his hands toward it. I’ll call this dude Mike.

Wendy and I shared stories. I told Wendy and Louie some of the things Mike said to me, like “I’m undressing you with my eyes,” “I like it when you wear your dresses,” and “He said you have to take off your clothes!” Wendy said, “Oh he’s never said anything that vulgar to me.”

Mike’s flagrant ogling assaulted both Wendy and me on a regular basis at work, as I’m sure it did for many other women in our office. But Mike never laid hands on Wendy as he had with me. His harassment toward Wendy was more genteel. Not that the behavior was less disgusting, just different.

I told Wendy and Louie about the strange conversation I had with Derek and Greg days earlier. I mentioned they said that maybe these guys see me as “a stereotype.” Wendy and Louie both nodded and said, “Oh, yeah,” like that explanation made complete sense to them.

I asked, “What do you mean? It’s okay, go ahead and tell me.”

Louie said, “Well, Hispanic women are sometimes stereotyped as being easy.”

Wow. Call me naive, but until that moment, I had no idea that a slutty stereotype prevailed for Hispanic/Latina women.

Sure, I knew about voluptuous Latina stars such as Selma Hayek, J. Lo, Shakira, Sophia Vergara, Eva Longoria. But what did any of these women have to do with me? If characteristics of celebrities in my assigned ethnic group translated to characteristics of me, I’d have their enormous wealth!

Most days, I live in a state of obliviousness where I see myself as an individual person. I sometimes forget that not everyone perceives me as an individual. I forget that to others, I am whatever perception they have of brown-skinned, dark-haired women first, then quite possibly a person.

Type “Latina stereotypes” in Google and see what you find. Wow! According to the Black Eyed Peas’ song “Latin Girls,” we are “brown-skinned mamas” a.k.a. “Marias, Elizabeths, Sonias, and Blancas.” Apparently, we can’t resist enticing lines such as, “When I see you, you can get boned if you want to” and “Whether it be kinky thoughts, I’m gon’ make your chonies drop.”

Sexual overtures, ass grabs, lewd comments had been commonplace for me since middle school. But I’d always chalked it up to what comes with the territory of being born with a vagina. I never imagined my ethnicity had anything to do with the harassment to which I had become accustomed.

When the revelation of the hyper-sexualized Latina stereotype sank in, I felt like someone might feel when they notice for the first time they are balding. Nothing wrong with balding at all, but maybe the balding person becomes overly self-conscious about his/her receding hairline and wears hats or comb-overs.

I felt insecure just walking down the street for my lunch break. I had an urge to cover my suntanned shoulders with a jacket despite the 93-degree weather. My dark, curly hair flowed and bounced as I walked. Was it attracting attention? Maybe I should tie it back in a bun. My dress slacks — were they hugging my backside too tightly? Maybe I should wear baggier pants.

Whatever it took, discomfort, a slower walk, anything, I had a strong desire to hide my ethnicity, to hide my brownness. Not out of shame. But out of fear. Fear that sounded like:

Latinas, look out! You fiery sex toys, guess what? You’re body parts. You’re an ass. A nice healthy one. You’re titties. Big juicy ones. You’re thighs. Thick and thin. You’re a wet vagina. You’re hard nipples. You’re long, dark hair. You’re a hot mamacita always ready to fuck and make a bazillion babies just like all your fecund abuelas did before you.

Fear whispered in my ear that we are nothing more than disassembled brown dolls to them, with parts scattered mishmash across a floor, parts used at their convenience. Parts ready to be jerked off on, finger-fucked, fondled, stroked, licked, grabbed, grinded against.

Excuse me a minute while I throw up…….