Writing Assignment #2: What about the Issue in the South?

I don't remember the last time I felt so out of my element. This assignment for me was extremely difficult. I like to consider myself an outgoing, approachable person, but then again when you are put into a situation in which you are the one approaching someone else, wow how the tables turn. I was self-concious, I was terrified that I would speak poorly or ask a question in an offensive way. But when I pushed all of these feelings aside I was able to stop, take a deep breath and finally be brave.

I was in the campo market earlier this week, it was shockingly sunny in comparison to the deep grey sky we had been seeing for a few days. I had recently discovered the incredible "blood orange," and if you haven't yourself discovered this hidden gem, I recommend it. I was at a booth and another buyer of fruits stood next to me. She was tall, and seemed to be very adapted to the area, I assumed she was an Italian, I had no reason to think otherwise. She had long brown hair that was wavy but pulled back from her face, these Italian women truely are perfection. I tried, in my broken Italian, to ask about a piece of fruit to the vendor, she giggled a little, tapped my shoulder and then spoke to the vendor on my behalf. He quickly grabbed what I needed smiled and took my money. I stood a bit shocked, I didn't realize what had even happened. I studdered a thank you and was about to turn away when the lady stopped me and asked in perfect English where I was from.

There it was, without my trying I was having a conversation with an Italian woman. I was standing there but in the back of my head wondering how I could somehow bring up the question I was wanting to ask without starting a problem or losing this great opportunity to speak to a true Italian. She was from Sicily and had a difficult accent but pronounced most words perfectly. She had lived in Sicily a majority of her life, then lived to Flordia for 4 years. After this she finally came back to Italy and settled in Rome. She was very sweet and wanted to know quite a lot about me, which I thought was crazy.

After about 5-10minutes of our short chat, I had finally gotten the nerve to ask. "I know this may sound crazy, but your the first person I've been able to speak with in English since being here, and...well for class we have to ask an Italian about the issues that are occuring down south right now..." Her smile immediately changed to a straight line and her lipstick crumpled along the lines in her lips. "...if maybe you would be willing to share your opinion with me?" I didn't know what to do at that point. I could tell she wasn't very happy and I didn't want to keep talking because I knew I was nervous enough to say something dumb at that point.

"To be honest, your visiting here...so it wouldn't really make sense to share my opinion with a visitor, now would it?" I didn't completely understand the comment, but I contined to stand motionless and smile gently. She then smiled a quick grin, "piacere" which I didn't know the meaning of yet, and left me standing there with my bag of oranges, completely dumbfounded.

There was my first effort, and to say the least I had 100% lost all willingness to try. Yet the one thing any college student would tell you, is that it is not about your willingness to do something as much as it is the fact that you simply have to do it. So there it was, I had to do it. I pushed myself about 3 more times that day to make an effort to at least establish a conversation with anyone willing to talk to me in English. Of course there is a few times when I would ask, "where are you from?" and they would respond with "I'm doing great!" or "I've been here 5 years..." and it was obvious that they had fooled me and weren't as capable in English as I had assumed.

The reason I wrote about this one lady, Sofia, is because she was my greatest success out of my five attempts. She spoke to me, she cared about my life and what I was doing and why I was doing it. But I could tell that the question almost wounded her. Maybe it was because she was from the South, and it was her people that were hurting others. It was near her home that issues were rising against immigrants and being discussed around the globe. I can understand her resentment, or maybe her saddness.

I also was able to listen in when Suija and the rest of class questioned Fede. Her answers seemed to be more of what expected to hear. She was cautious with her word choice, slow to speak, as if she knew in her mind that we were Americans and we have a very specific view about racism. Therefore I don't actually know if she feels that the way Italians treat immigrants is wrong, for all I know she could hate immigrants. Being an American makes it hard to get real answers because people don't want to offend you and they know how you feel about the issue without you saying a word. I love Fede, I think she's a fantasic teacher and I hope that the views she shared with us are honest but who really knows.

Overall this was hard. I felt like I tried, I pushed myself out of my comfort zone completely, only to find myself reestablished with insecurity. People are brutal or maybe they aren't at all, I wasn't able to really find out. I wish I had though, because the unfortunate things that occured in southern Italy matter, they matter a lot. Coming from a country that chooses to fight against racism not for it, makes me more opinionated about the situation. I feel so badly for the immigrants attacked. My mother was a immgrant (although she considers herself a refugee). I can't imagine what it would have felt like for her if she had seen her friends a family attacked for the sake of their origins. It breaks me.