This piece of writing has been long overdue. I have had conversations about this with a few close friends. I am finally inspired to put this down in writing after reading this blog:
Chronicles of an Ugly Duckling by
mountain_dreamer.
As a child, I have been told frankly by my mother and grandmothers, and at times by assorted aunts, that I was dark, ugly, thin and weak. Apparently, I had been much better looking when I was a chubby,
yerra (meaning "red" in Telugu, they meant fair-skinned) baby. For years as a growing child, I was criticized for not looking as nice as I did when I was a baby. They did not hesitate to talk about my bad looks in any place, at any time, in front of anyone. But I heard their rants most often when I made a fuss about eating. As a child, I was very particular about what I ate and how it was cooked. They believed that talking about how bad and weak I looked would encourage me to eat better. They also believed that frankly appreciating someone's good looks would put an evil eye on that person. There is something terrible about the culture of Indian elders which makes them talk more loudly of their kids' shortcomings than of the good things about them.
As an innocent child who is most influenced by the older women in the family, I believed that I was ugly. I often stood in front of the mirror to figure out just
why I was ugly. I could never figure out. I had normal eyes, nose, mouth, teeth, face. Where was I ugly? I just could not find out. Nevertheless, I believed I was ugly. Now, in retrospect, I just can't understand how adults could do that to an impressionable child. In the US especially, I see how delicately and sensitively the kids are treated and that makes me wonder just what the hell the elders in my household were thinking.
I don't mean that they did not love me or not treat me well. In fact, they took very good care of me and I was a favored child. It was only when talking about how good or bad the kids looked, more so in the context of eating well, they seemed to think I was not upto the mark. And their opinions stuck in my head.
Things became worse in my teens. I had a bad case of acne. In mid- to late teens, the first "premature" grey hair started to appear. So now, not only did I hear rants about being dark, thin and ugly, I also had to hear about my acne and grey hair. I was acutely aware of looking different from most other boys my age. Different in an unattractive way.
I knew that I did not have the kind of good looks girls would moon over. Unfortunately, I was very interested in girls. Romantically interested too. But none of them liked me. I never got a single girl to like me in those days. I saw so many girls get together with the good-looking guys. I saw the girls being obviously interested in such guys. I have seen girls I had a crush on, in turn have a crush on other guys who seemed to be better than me in looks only.
Not one of the girls who rejected my interests told me why they found me unacceptable. Almost every single one of them just said, "I don't feel that way about you." I was left to wonder and speculate why they did not feel "that way" about me. I could not see anything wrong with any other aspect of myself. I was alright academically and on the career front, had a good home and family. I thought the only thing that was obviously "not good" about me was the way I looked. I was convinced that all the girls I was interested in did not like me because of my looks. Perhaps, I was wrong. But the point is that things became progressively worse for me as I grew from a child to a boy to an adolescent to a young man.
In my early 20's, I thought of myself as The Beast and the girl I was interested in as The Beauty. The Beast archetype became predominant in my consciousness. I was a sad young man who thought the first impression girls would have of me was to be repulsed. Then later, when they got to know me better as a person, may be they might become friendly. But it would all stop there, at friendliness. Needless to say my self-esteem was very very low.
During all those years of adolescence and early 20's when I was down with a bad self-image and low confidence, all it would have taken for me to feel so
much better was for just one girl I loved, to love me back and tell me that she found me attractive. Just one girl. I can't believe how much power just one girl would have had. That is the kind of power a lover has.
So, I came to the US as a sad young man, low on self-esteem from years of conditioning, low on self-confidence and emotionally scarred because of all the unsuccessful trysts with romance. The Ugly Duckling. The Beast.
Things changed in the US as if by magic. Within months of landing here, I went out a couple of times with the prettiest white girl on the floor, who said I looked "trim and smart". I pursued other women. The reactions of American women to my interests were refreshingly different. There was no ambiguity in their responses. If they did not like me, they told me frankly. If they liked me, they expressed it even more frankly. In words and in actions. There never was any reason for me to wonder if they liked me or not. They made it very clear at all times. Nor was there any reason for me to wonder why they did not like me. They usually made that clear too. What is more, when it was obvious that they did not like my looks, I could even tell myself, that was only because they were not used to the South Indian looks, and/or they were not adventurous enough to like foreigners. I am really appreciative of the American unambiguous communications.
But more than that, I am deeply grateful to the American women who accepted me. Not all, but some of them did. The ones who did, showed their attraction and appreciation without inhibitions. They made me feel like a worthy man. I still remember the first time one of them told me that I looked "so handsome". I frankly did not believe her. It took some sincere repetitions by her and by others, backed by self-evident actions, to convince me that they really found me attractive and they were not just being kind. It did wonders for my confidence and self-esteem. Since then, I have been complimented for my presentable personality, my smile, my eyes, my butt and other more personal aspects. I have had a girlfriend caress my butt in public and even had gay men hit on me.
If you knew me well, you would realize that I am the devil-may-care kind of person who is not too concerned about what others say. I
do not seek external validation for my thoughts and feelings. My sense of self-worth is built on a solid foundation of adequate self-cognition and evident achievements. Despite all that, I was not immune to the conditioning about my looks nor feelings of inadequacy brought on by consistent rejection from Indian girls. I have heard and read the usual lines and phrases: "Looks are not everything", "There is nothing wrong about your looks", "Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder", etc. I have tried to tell myself that I have things going great for me in every other aspect of life and looks don't matter. But none of that helped. When healing came, it came from the solid actions and expressions of others, not from any cliched lines. It came from shared love and passion.
I am indebted to American womanhood. They accepted me with open minds, open hearts, open arms, open eyes and open thighs. They loved me and they healed me. They kissed me and transformed me from An Ugly Duckling to The Charming Beast.
Today, I am secure and content about how I look. I dress the way I want, I style my hair the way I want, I eat the way I want. I have found that no matter how I style myself, there are those who like it and there are those who don't. Even when I grew a beard for 3 months and looked like a barbaric cave dweller, someone told me they found it attractive (BIG grateful thanks to her!) And when I grew my moustache really big and thick like Kamal Haasan in the movie
Devar Magan, an ex-girlfriend told me I looked like an adorable rapist (she's a hottie who doesn't know just how hot she is)!
I think it's all good. Very
very rarely I fantasize about having the kind of looks which would make all heads in a room turn, which would make any woman fall for me. But sanity comes back soon enough. I am glad that there will always be those who like my looks and those who don't. I think looking too good would have spoilt my mental and emotional health, may be even my physical health. I like the fact that I can never predict a strange woman's reactions to my looks. She may be very repulsed or she may be very attracted, or she may feel anything between those extremes. I like that mystery. It suits me and my looks just fine.
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