Life is brutal for women – nature, nurture, and advertising have conspired to make competition fierce, a never ending battle to measure, compare, and compete and a constant challenge to self-image. And any woman who succumbs to such pressures will find New York City one of the most difficult places to live.

Men, of course, benefit from what essentially is a constant parade of women, many of whom are tricked out for the mating dance. Women who feel good about themselves and/or are blessed with nature’s bounty will find an endless supply of admirers, gawkers, or lechers to feed their need for attention. Those without such assets or self-confidence will need to armor themselves or live in a constant state of self deprecation.

I once knew a Chinese woman obsessed with her unhappiness in being Asian and wanted nothing other than to be a white supermodel. She articulated this frustration often. She was loved by all who met her, well-educated, and not unattractive, yet no matter how much positive feedback I gave her, it fell on deaf ears. Growing up outside the city, she had suffered racist derision as a child, surprising to me for someone growing up in the 1980s. Unfortunately, racism of this type is not uncommon.

Recently, I met a young woman of Indian ancestry who also suffered being berated growing up in the suburbs owing to her ethnicity. This was even more surprising to me since she grew up more recently in the suburbs of New York City. She has been saddled with a very negative self-image about everything – her features, body, ethnicity, and skin color.

However, one of the great things about New York City is the salad bowl environment. Broadly different ethnic groups and individuals translate to different tastes, so, no matter how outside the norm someone is, given a reasonable degree of attractiveness, a woman (or man) will certainly find admirers and potential suitors. Here, even those sporting the most extreme looks and style can find a mate. The city is not only a mecca for the ethnically diverse, eccentrics, or misfits, but also a place where such persons can find love, appreciation, and respect.

I recently spent the evening with a friend and this Indian woman. It was a fortuitous night for cupid’s arrow, and she was to learn that, in spite of her hostile upbringing, she had not one, but two admirers, that, much to her surprise, brown is not a bad color at all, and that, for some, as we will learn in Part 2, it’s All About Skin Tone 🙂