To the Angry Italian Women Who Like to Stare at Me While I Eat

Eye contact in Pacific Islander culture is intimate or meant as intimidation, depending on the situation, so not breaking the tension with a simple hello or kind words is a recipe for trouble.

As a Chamorro (Micronesian) woman living in Italy, I've noticed an uptick in the number of times I catch Italian women staring at me while I eat in restaurants, often seeming to be seething with rage - and it takes a lot of self-control to not respond to the apparent aggression with Island flavor.

Today, I'll share it with you as the sad, awkward art series it was meant to be.

When I was around 13 years old, moving from Hawai'i to Guahan (Guam), I recall reading an article about eye contact and Pacific Islander culture in "Pacifica" magazine, Continental Airlines' magazine for flights over the vast Pacific Ocean. At the time, I had never felt so seen - in a good way. The article delved into the social cues indicated with eye contact across Pacific Islander cultures (Micronesia, Melanesia, and Polynesia) and how staring is a precursor to physical aggression, while in others, it can be considered an expression of sexual interest. If you're familiar with Pacific Islander cultures, you might also know we break eye contact in conversation at times as a natural habit because too much eye contact can imply a number of things.

“See You Next Tuesday in Florence” (2023)

The author wrote about how specific incidents involving Pacific Islander teens were engaging in violent fist-fights over what started as non-verbal, prolonged eye contact. I regret not saving the magazine. When you make eye contact with someone, it should be followed by a greeting, or it will be perceived as, "Does this person want to fight me, or **** me?" Either way, staring without speaking can become a problem.

Fast forward almost thirty years later to living in Italy. One of the things that I noticed almost immediately was that the women here like to stare at me. A lot. I can't tell you how many times I've been sitting in a restaurant minding my own business, only to look up and see some random Italian lady staring at me with a look of disgust or confusion on her face.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Maybe they're just curious about you." Or, "Maybe they've never seen anyone who looks like you in real life, and they are trying to figure out where you're from." While those things may be true in some cases, I refuse to believe that they are the only reasons why Italian women stare at women of color - because I don't see them doing that to their own.

There's something else going on here. Some underlying racism or unconscious bias that causes them to see us as different, other, and not worthy of the same respect and consideration that they give to their own kind.

It's a microaggression, really. Something small and seemingly innocuous that nonetheless has a big impact. Because when you're constantly being stared at, it makes you feel like you don't belong. Like you're not welcome in this space and you alone are the sole cause of inflation, climate change, and the war in Ukraine, Israel-Palestine, and everywhere else in between.

As a new resident here in Tuscany, I wasn't quite sure what to make of the staring. Was it just a cultural difference? After all, I come from a culture (Pacific Islander) where staring only really means two things. Surely Italian women don't mean to create an atmosphere of aggression with a complete stranger, right?

Wrong.

It turns out that the staring is just one of many microaggressions I've experienced here. In this case, it's the way that Italian women look at me while I'm eating in restaurants or just existing in public spaces. Think of "Malena," where Monica Bellucci is being shunned by an entire town during WWII. My version is just weirder and I like to fight.

They stare at me with such intensity and focus that I can't help but feel like a physical fight could break out at any moment and simply being present and enjoying my food is not an option. There's an obvious tension in the air and all of a sudden I'm thinking when is this person going to throw the first punch - because I don't start fights, but I will end them.

It's not just me, either.

A few friends of ours were visiting us in Florence from Las Vegas had lunch with us at Iginio Massari Alta Pasticceria. While I was speaking with a friend, sharing stories about our respective travels, her face grew serious and concerned.

"This woman won't stop staring at you," she said.

As I turned my head to the right, a woman sitting at a table with a little dog across the walkway in the restaurant from ours went from this "Inception"-like death stare to seemingly snapping back to reality and embarrassed that we caught her.

"She's looking over here like she's never been punched in the face in her life and it shows," I laughed, rolled my eyes, and returned to my espresso.

"She might find out what that's like in a second," she said as we laughed it off.

But the oddity of the glaring of strange women continued to perplex her. I explained that this happens a lot. Not just a few times since arriving in July, it happens at least 90% of the time I go out in public - not just in restaurants and cafes.

Another "glaring" example was when we were visiting my mother-in-law in Milan. There's a cool pizzeria with bitchy staff but amazing crispy thin-crust pizza, so the “Dick's Last Resort” service with zero irony is tolerated. A few friends joined us, and we were seated somewhere in a back room - also a common theme I've noticed for dining in Italy - next to a table of three: a man and a woman with a small child.

As soon as we sat down, the staring began. Every time I looked up, her eyes were on me, as well as her husband's inquisitive stare. Barely a word was spoken between them as though our table cast a spell on them. However, their eyes mostly stayed locked onto me., with the occasional glance at others sitting with me. Looking me up and down, watching me as I bite into my food, chew, and swallow.

"Is this a weird fucking kink I don't know about Italian women? Is she getting off on this? Or is she disappointed you all are dining with me?" I asked my spouse and everyone at the table who noticed I was being observed like an exotic animal in a zoo.

"Maybe she thinks you're hot - and she’s right," Alex laughed and returned the glares back to their table briefly before resuming our table's conversation.

"It's because she heard you speaking English, and she is curious about what we're saying," one of our friends insisted. But curiosity isn't exactly congruent with an affect filled with seething contempt. I think it was an effort on their part to downplay the tension, as this woman was literally a meter away from me.

That's right, we were that close while she eye-fucked us for the entire dinner.

The truth is, no one deserves to be subjected to this kind of treatment, regardless of race or ethnicity. And considering how common it is, I'm proud not to have given into my instincts and punched anyone in the face.

So, to the angry Italian women who like to stare at me while I eat, I just want to say that I see you. I know what you're up to, and quite frankly, you could benefit from intensive psychotherapy to help remove the proverbial stick lodged up your neurotic asses.

I'm not going to let you ruin any more of my fun or meals. I'm not here to steal your man or your job, and you don't personally have anything that I want - I'm here to eat amazing local dishes, drink a glass or three of Franciacorta, chill and be present with my family, and live my best life. You should try it sometime.

Buon appetito!