It feels like you're invisible.
I've debated on whether or not to add my answer to the already many excellent replies listed on this thread, but since this is something I've often thought about, I decided to add my own response.
As one of only three Asian American students in my entire elementary school, the difference between me and a sea of white classmates was obvious. My family was also the only Asian family in a completely Italian neighborhood in Brooklyn.
It was very difficult not to fit what was the only acceptable beauty standard at the time, a fully Western one. I was constantly reminded of how different I looked from everyone around me. Brooklyn was nothing back then like it is today in terms of acceptance of diversity. I remember wishing desperately I could just look more like everyone else I saw; light brown hair, not black; blue eyes, not brown. I was called "chink" a number of times walking down the street and once even had soy sauce packets thrown at me.
However, when you're a little kid, these types of differences don't matter as much. So, though I wished I looked more like my peers and noticed none of the other little boys had "crushes" on me the way they did on my best friend, it's not something I ultimately cared much about.
During my early teen years I became quite depressed. I was (and am) petite, small, bony, and the last person you'd notice walking in to a room. This was on top of the usual awkwardness and self-loathing that pretty much every teen on the planet seems to go through, so it was all pretty bad timing. I began dressing every day in a uniform of a really baggy, gray t-shirts and jeans, which didn't exactly do much for me. I was picked on pretty aggressively (by fellow nerds, of all people), which further dented my self-esteem.
In high school, making friends was a challenge. More attractive girls who had the confidence to wear flashier, louder clothing were befriended by both girls and guys while I watched on the sidelines.
In the early years of college, I did a study abroad program in Paris. While I loved traveling, living in Europe as an Asian woman doesn't generally do much for your self esteem. I was one of the only Asian students in my program in a sea of blondes and generally ignored by everyone, while the other girls in my program were hit on and approached constantly. No one was ever mean, or outright rude. People were always just distant, or didn't notice I was around even when I made an effort to directly engage them in conversation. Dating was a very, very, very remote possibility; men never noticed me.
The upside to this is I learned to develop relationships with people based on character, not outward appearance. I learned to work for conversations through shared interests and personality, because "coasting" on looks wasn't an option.
It was painful to never be the one noticed in my teens and early twenties, but I am happy to say I tried to let it affect my day-to-day life as little as possible. I'm not a jealous person by nature, and having these experiences did not turn me into one.
Things changed for me as I progressed into my twenties and gained confidence. My self esteem to this day still isn't the greatest, but outer beauty, though important, is not everything. I feel confident enough now to wear the things I want, and no longer desperately wish to be the 6 foot tall, Amazonian blonde -- I'm happy being the 5 foot 2, little Korean. I do feel "visible" now, and I feel attractive enough for me, which is ultimately more important.
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