I have a little Spanish blood in me. I found out about it a few years ago when my father mentioned it in passing. A few generations back one of the girls who married into the family had a mother who had a dalliance with a Spanish fisherman and until me every man in my family and most of the women had jet black hair.
I don’t have black hair, it’s a sort of mid to light brown. Nor do I look Spanish, at all, not one bit, though previous generations were a little Iberian in countenance. It’s nice to know that I’m one of the many “mongrel” breeds that make up the United Kingdom of which I am proud to be a citizen.
What I’m getting round to here is that apart from a liking for Mediterranean women of all types the Spaniard in me is significantly diluted. Apart from a penchant for Cuban heels and passable paso doble I’m not your idea of a swarthy Spanish stud.
Race is one of many sexual pigeon holes that we all use to classify the sexuality of others. I suppose I should be hot blooded and fiery? Sí? Or would I put sex off until mañana?
Assigning sexual attributes to race is ludicrous. However attributing them to a particular culture is a different matter. The relationship between men and women is shaped by the environment, local history and religious beliefs. Drop a person of one race into another culture and they and their descendants soon merge with the locals adding their richness to the locale but in many respects conforming.