The Myth of the Latin Woman: / Just Met a Girl Named Maria, by Judith Ortiz Cofer
"On a bus trip to London from Oxford University where I was earning some graduate
credits one summer, a young man, obviously fresh from a pub, spotted me and as
if struck by inspiration went down on his knees in the aisle. With both hands over
his heart he broke into an Irish tenor's rendition of "Maria" from West Side Story.
My politely amused fellow passengers gave his lovely voice the round of gentle
applause it deserved. Though I was not quite as amused, I managed my version of
an English smile: no show of teeth, no extreme contortions of the facial muscles-I
was at this time of my life practicing reserve and cool. Oh, that British control, how
coveted it. But Maria had followed me to London, reminding me of a prime fact
of my life: you can leave the Island, master the English language, and travel as far
las you can, but if you are a Latina, especially one like me who so obviously belongs
to Rita Moreno's gene pool, the Island travels with you."...
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