Madrid, 1976
Francisco Franco, Caudillo of Spain, died at the end of December 1975, after 40 years in power, alongside the conservatives. In fact, there is no dictatorship, nor has there ever been one, that isn’t conservative in morals—whether in Russia (Stalin, Khrushchev, Putin), Yugoslavia (Tito), Cuba (Fidel), Argentina (Perón and/or the military), North Korea (Kim Il-sung), China (Mao to Deng Xiaoping), or Portugal (Salazar until 1968, Caetano until ’74). The similarities are so striking that even Tito (claiming to be socialist and always complaining about Russia) and Franco (claiming to be capitalist and always complaining about the US) resembled each other in every way.
When something like this evolves, it’s through osmosis from external contact and necessity.
That’s how the Spanish police and armed forces began to consider admitting women into their ranks, with Franco clearly fading away. I believe that the Madrid Municipal Guard (GMM) was the first entity of its kind to take this step, around 1974.
It was August 1976, summer in Madrid. Fernando, a Brazilian, very much single in his 30s, pursuing a postgraduate degree in engineering, was driving his old but charming Peugeot down Calle Princesa, heading towards Moncloa-Cibeles. As he often did, he stopped the car by the central lane to turn left when possible (when traffic allowed) near the Corte Inglés.
Then a beautiful policewoman appeared, quite young (23-25 years old), commanding him to go straight, saying he could no longer make the turn because the sign allowing it had been removed. But the young woman didn’t orient or explain; she screamed, ordered, gesticulated, acting like a general in her moment of power, arrogant, venting her problems, her personality, her culture.
It was the first time our hero saw a female police officer. He was immediately hypnotized, paralyzed, gazing at that commanding beauty in uniform, her well-tailored uniform accentuating her sculptural body, with a baton, gun in a holster, VHF radio, and a whistle on her lips... Her hands, fingers, nails were perfect, with red nail polish, the right lipstick, and makeup accentuating her green eyes—truly a goddess.
The more the young woman shouted and whistled, the more entranced and immobile Fernando became. The situation became evident even to passersby who began to stop, sensing it would be worth watching the scene, and a crowd started to form. Things got complicated when our hero, in a strategic lapse, “threw a compliment” at the policewoman.
“Piropo” is a Spanish slang term without an exact translation, hovering between a flirtation and a compliment. It cannot be crude; otherwise, it’s not a “piropo.” Nowadays, throwing a “piropo” might be considered “harassment.” Modern nonsense.
The policewoman, threatening to arrest him, and Fernando saying he was already imprisoned by her eyes, by her orders, that he wanted to be handcuffed to her, and so on.
The policewoman, unable to believe Fernando had said what she had heard, was caught between surprise and admiration for his audacity, secretly a bit flattered, pulled out her VHF radio and called for backup.
But, in a way, she had already calmed her show of arrogance, apparently because she had noticed the slight accent of the daring man, revealing him as a foreigner. What miracles a not-at-home saint can perform! How mysterious are policewomen...
In less than a minute, two GMM cars arrived, each with two men in uniform. Two young officers, roughly the same age as Fernando, got out, and he began to realize how foolish he was being. It would be better to follow the young woman and approach her outside the station. After all, those officers were potential rivals for her attention. So it was decided. When they asked what was happening and learned about the “piropos,” one of them couldn’t resist and said, with a smile on his lips, in a clear and audible voice, “El conductor tiene razón!”
That was enough for the policewoman to turn on the new harasser, now a colleague and compatriot, so there were no excuses. The scandal doubled. Disrespect back and forth. And all five officers were armed with guns and batons. Worrisome. And more and more people gathered to watch.
One of the four guards who had arrived, who hadn’t engaged in the compliments to the policewoman, ordered Fernando to cross and park on the side street to clear traffic.
He entered the side street and, pretending to look for a parking spot, slowly distanced himself until he was sure no one was following. He continued on to the parking lot of the Casa do Brasil, on the Complutense campus. No one knew how the story ended. Well, not no one—perhaps Fernando does. He was seen the next day, asking where the GMM station responsible for the area was located.
Miguel Fernández y Fernández, engineer and chronicler, 2023
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