No Soy Tu Chica (I Am Not Your Girl)


A poetic piece on my experience of street harassment as a woman who is often stereotyped as Latina.

Chica! Mama cita! Muy bonita!
Sexualise and indulge your eyes.
When a golden girl walks down the street,
Show some appraisal of that fine piece of meat.
Lick your lips at that rounded rump,
Just imagine what it’s like to hump.

¿España?! ¿Colombiana?! ¿Italiana?!
Degrade and dehumanize.
Heads turn as you begin to drool,
And let out the howl of your ingenious catcall.
Aware and enduring, I sure ain’t the fool.
No soy tu chica.

Chicita! Me gusta! Muy linda!
Undervalue and underestimate.
As you watch my form bounce off the ground,
You pierce the air with your dog-calling sound.
I shudder at the blare of your whistle,
And fear the day I face your pistol.

¿Venezuela?! ¿Argentina?! ¿Costa Rica?!
Provoke and feed my righteous hate.
Wounded at my lack of response –
What a world that won’t give men all that he wants!
When a girl like me – can simply roam free.
No soy tu chica.

Chica! Mama Latina! Pequeña puta! 
Discharge and disperse your lustful lies.
For when a sexy lady goes straight past,
It’s only nature that makes her run fast.
What can she expect other than pavement predation,
When she’s dressed up for a special occasion?

¿Mexicana?! ¿Portuguesa?! ¿Puertorriqueña?! 
Subvert and perverse my human rights.
Let your primitive perception run wild,
While my journey home is defiled.
Joke’s on you – ’cause I’m a North London Jew!
And I am not your girl.

© Lydia Rose,