Throughout my childhood, I never compared myself to my classmates who were different from me, nor did I think we were different from each other. Unless, of course, they thought that Cinderella was better than Ariel from The Little Mermaid. I honestly miss the days when the things you liked or disliked were the only things that made you stand out.
As I grew older, things started shifting. Puberty happened, and it was scary, awkward, uncomfortable, and everything in between. There were crushes galore and classmate romances, or at least as romantic as they could be when your mom was driving you around.
To say I was boy crazy is an understatement. I’d honestly fall for any boy who would give me the slightest bit of attention. At first, it was innocent puppy love where I’d sit with the boy I liked at lunch, or we’d hold hands in the hallways. But then there was a shift in the sort of attention that I was getting from boys. I’m convinced that it had to do with the fact that my boobs had grown bigger than most of the girls in my grade, but I later realized that it had to do with more than just my boobs; it had to do with my identity.
When I first started dating in high school, I thought it was all sunshine and rainbows, and I definitely had thick, rose-colored glasses. However, I started noticing repeated comments that weren’t necessarily compliments. I had a boy once go on a tangent about how he loves Mexican food for at least 10 minutes mid-date. I also had another boyfriend tell me that he was “lucky to have caught a Latina”, as if I were a Pokémon.
The list goes on, and unfortunately, it has happened more times than I’d like to admit. Almost every boy I’ve dated or been in a relationship with has been white, and that’s not to blame the whole population of white men, because I am, thankfully, dating a man now who has never made it a point to mention my ethnicity, but it’s an interesting correlation. It’s felt as though I’m a sort of exotic creature that gives them points because I’m a woman of color.
Many women of color, especially Latinas, are viewed as hypersexual, sassy, and “spicy” right from the start without even getting to know them. I have experienced these assumptions more times than I can count, and it’s extremely frustrating. No one gets to choose their ethnicity, and the fact that this was happening to me felt completely unjust. It felt as though I was born into these stereotypes and that there was no way of changing them.
To make things worse, TV and movies just won’t let go of their outdated Latina stereotypes, making us seem more “desirable” to audiences while piling on unrealistic expectations. Take Modern Family, for example — Gloria, the only Latina main character, is written to fit the typical mold: loud, “crazy,” and jealous. It’s frustrating how often the media pushes this narrative.
Personally, I hate being put in a box. It’s exhausting when people assume I’m toxic, jealous, obsessive, or crazy just because of my ethnicity. And honestly? I shouldn’t have to constantly prove that I’m not.
Being Latina should be something that I should feel proud of and confident about, not something I’m ashamed to be because of harmful stereotypes.
Such an important perspective. I really appreciate your use of personal experiences in this piece. Especially the metaphor in this line: “I also had another boyfriend tell me that he was ‘lucky to have caught a Latina,’ as if I were a Pokémon.”
I find this so relatable as whenever you mention or hear about Latinas, people will always bring up Gloria and how we can be “Exotic”. It’s like a shock to people that we are not crazy or toxic!