An Introduction

I grew up in some of the most vanilla parts of America: Texas, Nebraska and Missouri. But I am not strictly “white” like many of my friends and peers were and are. When I was a little kid, I was not fully aware of racial and immigrant tension; when we were young in a suburb of Omaha, my brothers and I played with everyone on the street, whether they were white, black, Mormon or smelled like cheese. But there are several incidents in which I remember realizing I wasn’t really white. For example, every teacher I’ve ever had would mispronounce my name on the first day of school (“FAT-MA? WHERE IS FAT MA?”), and for the rest of the year I would be ridiculed about it by the Marys and Michaels. Another example: when my friends’ relatives would talk about me like I was a terrorist plotting America’s demise.

As I grew into my awkward teen years, I would look in the mirror and see only my ethnic traits, not my gender like most of my girlfriends. I never felt I could be pretty or attractive simply because the structure of my face and body were different than traditional white girls. When I flipped through magazines like Vogue or Glamour for hair and makeup help, I could never find a celebrity or model that shared similar physical features.

I wanted to blend in and for people not to stare at me like I was an alien creature freshly birthed from the Dead Sea’s vagina. I have dark hair and olive skin, but it’s not usually clear where I am “from.” I’ve been mistaken for almost every kind of Latin, Middle Eastern and Mediterranean citizen. And when I simply answer “the U.S.,” the country in which I was born and raised, the response is always, “No, but where are you really from?”

The word “exotic” makes little sense, if you think about it – it’s like saying something is “normal” or “weird” – it’s somewhat subjective. Because of my background in neuroscience, I like to use a scientific approach to understand such phenomena. Based on 22 years of hands-on experience and observation, I noticed a pattern in what triggers the use of this term, and I’ve drawn some conclusions about this perception in the U.S. For example, when I meet someone for the first time, there is an almost 100% certainty that they will comment on some aspect of my physical appearance with interest (hair, eyebrows, bone structure, etc.), or curiously ask about which country I come from.

There are three main characteristics, which I’ve based on repeated encounters, that are consistently associated with “being exotic.” In the scientific method, nothing is ever proven, but if evidence repeatedly suggests a conclusion, we may accept it as a theory. I believe that with approximately 15 years of strong evidence gathering, I can comfortably define an “Exotic Female Theory.” The perception of being exotic in the U.S. can be characterized by the following:

1. Looks: You become the fantasy of choice for whomever you’re speaking with.  

2. Culture: You live in one place, descend from another, and feel like you belong in neither. You are frequently confronted by white people who view you as a novelty.

3. Hair and Hair removal: Some Moroccan oil and a good wax aesthetician can change your life.

I am using an analytical approach to understand what makes someone exotic; however, it is important to consider that human beings are complicated creatures with emotions and associations attached to their perceptions. These associations can be positive, negative or neither, and as an exotic person you learn how to tend to all three cases. Sometimes a person will remember a country they visited with people that share the same physical characteristics as you. This type of encounter generally leads to a discussion about the trip, followed by a clarification of the exotic person’s cultural background. In this case, misperception can lead to greater knowledge for both parties. Other times a person might see you as a threat because of something they heard or saw on the news – unfortunately, in these encounters, ignorance often prevails.

This theory holds true for many of my southeast Asian, Arab and other Middle Eastern friends living in the U.S. One of my goals with this column is to provide supporting evidence for these claims by sharing my personal stories, as well as those of my fellow exotic friends. Although I had difficulty accepting who I really was, I decided to embrace whatever it is that I have. “How To Be Exotic” will be a weekly look into the life and experiences of a real life “exotic” girl living in the U.S., how it can be both beautiful and ugly, and why it’s sometimes frustrating to be compared to a Kardashian. I am not the only “exotic” person in this country, and I will discuss and explore what it means to be an exotic woman in America to see if we can open a dialogue to improve society for women of all backgrounds.

Zeynep Deligonul is a recent BU grad in Neuroscience. She is currently pursuing employment opportunities in the Boston area. In her spare time she can be found driving/getting lost in Cambridge, playing video games, dancing with friends and trying new things (like writing columns for The Riveter!) Follow her on Twitter @zeynepx.