“Qué Exótica”: The Fetishization of Multiracial Women in Spain

White supremacy + thinly-veiled racism = dating preferences?

It was late October 2017 when I had a memorable experience at my company’s headquarters in Barcelona.

I was in the printing room with my colleague Verónica, preparing the documentation for a briefing that afternoon. We were conversing amiably, discussing the second season of La Casa de Papel and whether or not the police were up to the task of solving the case. Spoiler: they weren’t.

When suddenly, the photocopier choked. It sputtered and whirred and whined for a moment before sighing exhaustedly and coming to a complete stop, a half-printed call sheet hanging flaccid from the mouth of the reservoir. We both eyed it momentarily in silence.

As if by magic, Miquel, resident Mr-Fix-It and obnoxious but well-connected IT specialist, waltzed through the door to come to our aid.

“Oh my God, is it my birthday?” he exclaimed, clasping his hands together.

Vero and I looked at each other.

“A Black girl AND a Latina together? I’ve had very many dreams that looked like this.”

For those of you from countries with well-established HR protocols, I’ll give you a second to pick your jaws up off the floor and possibly prepare yourselves a stiff drink.

Because today I’m going to talk about my experience of fetishisation as a mixed-race woman in Spain. I feel compelled to preface this essay by saying that it is in no way intended to bash Spain, its people or its culture. It’s simply me sharing my unique perspective as a biracial woman who grew up there, and using it to open up some dialogue about the human experience and how it differs between countries.

I think that when most people hear the terms “mixed-race” or “biracial” their immediate assumption is whiteness combined with another race.

When ticking boxes on standardised application forms, that’s usually the majority of the combinations listed in the “Ethnicity” category, along with “Other” — as if it weren’t othering enough to even have to fill out these diversity quota forms in the first place. But, I digress.

In my experience, the combination of white with another race seems to be the most widely fetishised. Thanks to white supremacy, it seems like the real appeal lies in proximity to whiteness with a touch of the exotic. Diluting the minority heritage to the point of removing the threat of it while maintaining a little exoticism for some razzle-dazzle.

People enjoy the intersection between the familiar and the unknown, and multiracial people fit right in there. Many praise being mixed with white for the palatability that it engenders since it’s not too big of a departure from the standard.

It feels a lot like they’re saying:

“You’re beautiful because you’re not too Black.”

When I tell people that I’m half Nigerian and half British, their first response is some variation of “oh cool” coupled with a double eyebrow raise and a light nod.

I try to interpret it as a compliment because, in most cases, I do think Spanish people find that an interesting combo, but then it dawns on me how strange it would be if I reacted the same way upon hearing somebody identify themselves as white.

That would be weird, right?

Having grown up here in Spain, I’m pretty familiar with this sort of intense fascination with my genetic makeup.

Spaniards first see my features, then hear my Spanish accent and arm themselves with questions about my background. In some cases, it’s just a friendly attempt at bonding, however, if I had a penny for every time somebody’s interest in my racial profile has gone beyond controlled curiosity, I’d be writing this from my summer house in the Hamptons.

I had a dalliance with a Spanish girl from Cádiz who praised my mixed-ness as frequently and spiritedly as she could without setting off eugenicist alarm bells.

From seeing pictures of her exes, she very clearly had a type, and that type was mulatas (mixed black and white women). She loved our hair, our skin, and the unique manifestation of our features.

She would wax lyrical about how cute our kids would be if only we were able to conceive them together.

Honestly, given the alarming prevalence of commitment phobia in the Barcelona lesbian scene, her desire for a house, white picket fence and 2.5 children had the potential to be rather endearing. However, the emphasis being so heavily placed on the fact that our adorable, hypothetical little crumb snatchers would be mixed did sour the conversation considerably.

And sadly, she wasn’t the only one. I have often thought, through my experience of dating Spaniards:

What is the deal here? Do they like me for me, or do they like this collection of racialised features they use to characterise me?

Fetishisation, since it’s so closely aligned with affinity, finds itself commonly categorised as appreciation, as far as most people are concerned. It’s so easy to hide prejudice behind the veil of preference and ignore how problematic it is. And since racism is considerably entrenched in Spanish culture, it makes fetishisation all the more difficult to identify and acknowledge as a social issue.

Claiming that you only date Black people because of their sexual prowess or the fact you want “genetically superior” babies is no great cause for concern in a typical Spanish social setting. It’s said with the same nonchalance as admitting to liking women with asymmetrical haircuts or men who read the newspaper.

What many fail to understand is that there’s a definite power dynamic at play when you’re white and your type is non-white, because that person automatically possesses less power than you do, thanks to white supremacy. But the Spanish don’t tend to see it that way.

You’re probably wondering how I can be so cavalier about the example of flagrant workplace sexual harassment I cited at the beginning of this article. But that’s because when it comes to topics such as power dynamics, patriarchy or the acknowledgement of white supremacy, Spain is leagues away from the UK or the USA.

That sort of stuff happens all. the. time.

Does that make it acceptable? Absolutely not.

Does that mean I’m probably desensitised to it from overexposure? Oh, heck yeah.

If photocopygate took place in America you’d call your lawyer. But in Spain, you’d just call it a Tuesday.

Women like myself and Vero are subjected to this sort of treatment on a frighteningly frequent basis. Not only that, but we’re expected to like it. There’s a certain expectation of gratitude when people cherry-pick the whiter elements of your appearance to praise and leave the ethnic bits for scorn.

It can be difficult to quantify to people unfamiliar with your experience how something that sounds like a compliment can be damaging.

I believe that we should celebrate beauty in all its forms. But let’s start by getting one thing straight:

Mixed people are beautiful because they’re beautiful — not because they’re mixed.

For more content like this, check out my other Musings here. For articles about Spain/ Spanish culture, click here.

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