One of the first things I noticed about America was how people smiled so much, even at total strangers. Back home, everyone seemed to grimace at each other all the time. As clichéd as it might sound, we didn't smile a lot because life could be so hard. You had to look tough, intimidating, as if you were ready for war.

I also loved how in America women could achieve anything. That's just not possible in Ukraine, unless you come from money. In my country it's an accepted fact that even college-educated women get stuck in low-paying, low-level jobs. I pictured myself being a successful, professional woman living and working in America -- a classic rags-to-riches story. And I was making progress toward that goal: I did well, applied to renew my visa and landed a campus job to help me pay my tuition for the following school year.

But I hit a roadblock when the U.S. government denied my student visa renewal. I had no choice but to return to Ukraine.

Back home I re-enrolled in my old university, but I struggled through classes because I was so depressed. I couldn't imagine getting serious with my then-boyfriend because I didn't think he had any life goals or an interest in leaving Ukraine, which seemed ridiculous to me. After my experience abroad, I could barely relate to him and the rest of my friends. I felt like a child who had been given a cookie, only to have it taken away after one bite. I'd experienced what it was like to be an American, but now that experience was just a nice memory.

Putting Myself on the Market
After talking to my parents, I found a possible solution: to advertise myself on an international marriage brokerage Web site. These agencies charge men, mostly from the United States and Western Europe, hundreds, sometimes thousands, of dollars to match them with a foreign bride, usually from poor or developing countries like Ukraine. In the States, it would be shocking for parents to accept that their 19-year-old daughter would do such a thing. But back home, finding a husband this way was just part of the culture, at least for those women who didn't come from a wealthy family, and I didn't know anyone who did. Many girls I grew up with were on the marriage hunt by the time they turned 18, and several had used brokers to meet Western men.

In Ukraine the potential dangers of the so-called mail-order bride industry are not as well known as they are in America. So I wasn't worried about my safety, although based on what I know now about brokered marriages, I should have been. I learned years later, only after moving here, about the many horror stories of foreign brides who had been abused by their American husbands. Today I understand just how much of a gamble I took.

As a first step I rode a bus to an Internet cafe and, over the course of two afternoons, wrote a profile, much like crafting a typical online-dating profile. Women who use marriage-brokerage sites often post seductive photos of themselves posing in lingerie or bikinis that practically scream "Buy me!" but I couldn't do that. It just wasn't me. I wanted to avoid, as much as possible, feeling like an object to be obtained for the right "price." I knew I had to stay strong and believe that if I ended up getting married, I wouldn't forget who I was.

My profile pictures were reserved; I didn't even wear makeup. I wrote that I wanted to meet someone who was open-minded and supportive of a career-driven woman. My mother didn't think I'd ever lure a husband this way, since I'd be competing against other girls who'd started preparing themselves at an early age to attract an American man by wearing makeup and tight clothes.




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