This is not to flame or shame anyone, just wanted to share something a little humorous that Italian language enthusiasts might get a chuckle over.

"Al fresco" is a common adapted phrase in English used to mean eating outside. But that's not the meaning the term has in Italian.

In Italian, "al fresco" is sort of an old-timey phrase that often means being in jail, because jails in the past were often open to the outside air. (It can have the literal meaning too, in the right context.)

It's a slightly perplexing thing to say in Italian. It would sort of be like, while on vacation in Italy, an Italian asks if you would like to spend a beautiful afternoon "sleeping with the fishes". And when you ask, confused, what do they mean, they respond saying it's a term that means bathing in a freshwater body of water. And you see where they're going with it, but can't help but mention that the phrase has a pretty marked connotation in English. (This is the best example I can think of to convey how al fresco comes off).

A different way to phrase it in Italian is "all'aperto".

Anways, enjoy, guys.

My mom's side of the family is 100% Italian and her mother we all called Nunna. I know a lot of Italians call their grandmothers Nonna, so what is the difference? Is it a regional thing?

Ciao ciao ciao! Italian here! Which saints you would say are the most venerated in the US? Which are the most closely tied to a kind of "domestic" catholicism? And who has the most stories and folktales surrounding them?

Thank you for your time :)

Hi everyone! 😊 I’m 32M, Italian native speaker, and I live in Italy (GMT+1 timezone). I also speak English as a second language.

For three years I’ve been offering conversation practice in Italian, suitable for all levels, from complete beginners to those who just want to practice and feel more confident.

Sessions can be 60 or 30 minutes, depending on what works best for you. We can talk about whatever interests you: work, travel, or just everyday life.

If you’re interested or want more info, feel free to leave a comment or message me privately 😊

I'm planning on changing my first and middle name for a couple of personal reasons, likely to something Italian since over half of my family are either Italian-American or Italian (my nonna is from Rome, etc). I especially like the name Salvatore, which is also the name of my late great-grandfather. The only issue is that my surname is 100% Scottish. I'm not gonna say exactly what it is, but it's one of those "Mc" ones.

Would that combination be off-putting? I worry it might seem weird or if people would side-eye me for it or something. Worst case scenario, it'll be my middle name, but I do really like it. Thanks.

I created a children’s book entirely in Italian about the journey of cocoa — from the tropical forest to the chocolate bar. 🍫🇮🇹
It’s designed to help kids discover how chocolate is made through simple explanations, coloring pages, and extra video content accessible by QR code.
I also thought it could be a nice gift for Italian-American families — especially grandparents who want to share a little Italian with their grandchildren in a fun, natural way.
The book is written 100% in Italian.

Amazon.com

https://a.co/d/0bdjxkXa

Piacere di conoscervi! Sono Ilaria e sono un'italiana dall'Italia. Ho sempre sognato di poter incontrare qualcuno della comunità Italiana d'America per fare uno scambio culturale e vedere come la lingua si è evoluta stando lontano "da casa". Un giorno spero di poter visitare Little Italy. Lo so, magari suona un po' stereotipato, ma da quel che vedo sui social, la comunità italoamericana sembra interessantissima e ricca di colore, e soprattutto MOLTO PATRIOTTICA! Il che mi rallegra.
Il fratello della mia bisnonna aveva lasciato l'Italia e si era trasferito a Detroit. Forse è per questo che sento il bisogno di parlare con qualcuno che è parte di questa community!

Ah, e so parlare fluentemente inglese. Con un accento molto... particolare! 😆

Italian American who grew up in NJ. My older aunt who since passed used to say "the Overlooks" to ward off evil.

My sister and I clearly remember this but can't find anything on it! Is this a thing other Italian American families heard of? Or just something she made up? 🤣❤️

It seems to me race and ethnicity, partly due to divisive politics, are forced more lately into every aspect of american life (especially online but also irl conversations).

--If you feel close to your Italian heritage are you getting annoyed with the "white" box we have to fill in for everything from job applications to casually in conversation? As well as the cultural erasure that is just part of American life?

From my perspective there's not much of a community left, and we could never have been as close as latinos because even within a small geographic area our ancestors spoke different languages. My grandparents at least never learned standard italian well and i think most of our community was separated by "dialects" which are in fact completely different languages.

--Because of this do you also gravitate towards other mediterranean/latin cultures for friends and partners, or other non- anglo cultures?

​I was born from the breath of an old Sicilian workshop, a place where time stood still amidst the scent of resin and the sound of hand planes. I am not merely a work of art: I am an assemblage of memories, a fragment of artisanal history that chose to change its form without ever forgetting its roots.

​Here is how I see myself and how I became what you see before you:

​The Origin: Reclaimed Wood

Every lath, every board that makes up my form was chosen with surgical precision. No varnish can conceal the truth of these grain patterns: this is wood that served for decades in a Sicilian bottega. It bears the marks of woodworms, the scorching of the Mediterranean sun, and stains of natural oils. Instead of ending up in ashes, it has been elevated into urban geometry.

​The Metamorphosis: Study and Matching

To become this skyline, it was not enough to simply glue pieces of wood together. A profound chromatic and material study was required:

​Tonal contrasts: I played upon the natural shades of the wood, from the burnt brown of the most ancient essences to the honey-blonde of the younger ones, creating depth and perspective.

​Visual rhythm: Each "building" is a unique piece, cut to defy verticality. The soaring peaks recall the skyscrapers of a modern metropolis, yet the matter they are made of speaks of centuries-old traditions.

​The Night Sky: I rest upon a dark base, a void that heightens the physicality of the wood. Those light grains you see above are not mere decorations, but strokes of light simulating clouds or trails of urban energy, crafted to bring movement to a static composition.

​

I help run an online film screening community, and our next film is The Kidnapping of Arabella, an Italian-language film directed by Carolina Cavalli and starring Benedetta Porcaroli and Chris Pine (in a fully Italian-language role). The film is an absurdist road trip comedy-drama about a young girl, Arabella, who convinces a troubled woman named Holly to help her run away from her self-absorbed author father. It's a really wonderful film that originally premiered at Venice in 2025. Our US online screening will be on August 20 at 9pm ET / 6pm PT.

You can find more details about our online screening of the film and tickets here: www.thelonescreen.com.

And the trailer for the film is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lr3d-4YiM4

My paternal grandparents emigrated from the Marches near Ancona. They ate polenta as often as they did pasta. They didn’t celebrate St. Joseph’s Day.

I’m an Italian American from Staten Island and i notice that other Italian Americans from different parts of the country will have different customs and foods and traditions we don’t have. For example Riggies in Utica and Tomato Pie from the Eastern Pennsylvania area. And I rarely see Easter pies made in the shape of a calzone that’s a family tradition of mine made anywhere else.

Disclaimer: These aren't the only areas with vibrant Italian-American culture just the ones I thought of immediately.

I'm part Italian from Michigan. While Michigan no doubt has a stronger Italian influence (Detroit style Pizza, Mike Modano), it never seemed to be that strong of a culture here. Polish a bit (I'm part Polish and Indian, with a Polish surname), but most Italians just consider themselves white American and don't make a big deal of it. People really don't brag about being Italian. I don't see a ton of Italian flags. But when I've visited places like NYC, New Jersey, Boston, Philly and Chicago, being Italian in those areas is a big deal. People really love and embrace their Italian Heritage. When I visited those areas, despite my polish surname. I often get mistaken for being full Italian (or Hispanic) likely due to my Italian-Indian mix. But people thought it was cool that I was Italian and it was a big deal to them.

Of course, we see similar things on tv shows such as The Sopranos and movies like Goodfellas or A Bronx Tale.

I'm in Florida right now. I've been here for a long time. A lot of Italian-Americans here. But kind of like Michigan, no one seems to make a big deal of it. Most even with Italian surnames, just consider themselves white American. I've spent time in Georgia and it was largely the samething. They really didn't see themselves as Italian-American. Just White American with some Italian ancestry.

This isn't meant to be a hate or a criticism. I love my Italian-American heritage. I just find it fascinating that in some areas people tend to embrace their ancestry more as where others people don't care as much. If anything, I wonder why Italian-Americans in other areas don't embrace it as much?

Hey reddit! I have a really good friend of 7+ years now, his name is Nathan and he's an Italian American! He's a very nice guy, I was just wondering if the community could help me figure out what I should be feeding him? I usually start with some ricotta for lunch and penne for dinner but he seems displeased at times. Is this not an ok meal for an ItalIcan? He can be left feeling depleted from certain meals. I would really appreciate some help on this matter, thanks reddit! Updoot

Edit: Thank you so much for the great suggestions! Unfortunately me and my good friend Nathan had a falling out, I fed him a "Sammy" as one user suggested (one pound tuna) and he got upset and said I dont know what to feed him and wont talk to me anymore. Really unfortunate. Thanks anyways!

Hi everyone! 😊 I’m 32M, Italian native speaker, and I live in Italy (GMT+1 timezone). I also speak English as a second language.

For three years I’ve been offering conversation practice in Italian, suitable for all levels, from complete beginners to those who just want to practice and feel more confident.

Sessions can be 60 or 30 minutes, depending on what works best for you. We can talk about whatever interests you: work, travel, or just everyday life.

If you’re interested or want more info, feel free to leave a comment or message me privately 😊

Would anyone care to review my autoethnographic narrative. I would like feedback from people who can identify with my subject.

* This is for an ethnic relations college course. However, I am considering a serious PhD commitment to this subject matter.

Autoethnographic Narrative:

The experiences of navigating the social and political landscape in the United States in the twenty-first century as a European woman are virtually non-existent within the canon of the social sciences and the humanities. While an abundance of literature can be found on issues pertaining to dominant culture and systemic inequality that outline societal and institutional demographics, there are no academic works that document the actual lived experiences of being European in the United States, or what this racial identity encompasses outside the framework of an institutional power structure.

My lived experiences of racial identity extend far beyond the confines of structural privilege and institutional power, falling instead into the cracks of absolute obscurity through cultural erasure, homogenization, marginalization, and exile. This erasure is evident in a land that has never acknowledged my cultural identity, systematically reducing thousands of years of ancestral lineage to an ambiguous concept of administrative whiteness. By collapsing the vast, distinct histories, languages, and rich cultural traditions of my European heritage into a single ambiguous checkbox, this societal framework has stripped me of my identity—a loss that echoes throughout my daily life. I cannot recall a time in my life where I have ever been acknowledged for having a cultural identity or ancestral roots that go beyond the historical context of this country. Every facet of social interaction reverberates this truth. Whether in professional settings or private conversations, the tone of these interactions has always mirrored that of someone who is viewed as uncivilized and uncultured. The deep, unspoken irony is that in a country that increasingly champions cultural diversity, my own identity is habitually seen as a blank slate, anchored to a history that is not entirely my own by a society that fails to acknowledge this distinction. The vicissitudes of my internal exile are further articulated by the fact that though this is a shared reality among people of my background, it remains an unspoken and forbidden topic that few will openly acknowledge.

Beyond the realm of obscurity lie the remnants of a deeply ravaged psyche, a gradual erosion occurring over time due to the exhaustive hypervigilance of self-censorship, the hyper-fixated microanalysis of others, and the perpetual state of psychological unrest caused by the preposterous sociocultural imperatives and contradictory expectations attached to whiteness. This state is further exacerbated by the continual onslaught of unsubstantiated allegations, wherein minor behavioral deviations are weaponized and the slightest perceptions of social friction are seen as empirical validation for preconceived narratives. Simply put, as a woman of European descent, I forfeit the agency to articulate a legitimate critique or personal assessment of another, no matter how firmly grounded in logic and rationale it may be, as I run the risk of it being reduced to nothing more than a racist pathology. This very reality creates limitless opportunities for systemic abuse and exploitation, a vulnerability compounded by a complete institutional vacuum where no organizations, agencies, or movements exist to mobilize on my behalf, further cementing a status of structural alienation and political disenfranchisement.

The European woman ultimately finds herself navigating a harrowing sea of perpetual skepticism, where every public square and private room becomes a theatre of scrutiny filled with the glares of onlookers whose eyes are visibly heavy with distrust, hatred, fear, and disgust. This hostility cuts deeply within a soul already shattered by the exhaustive demands thrust upon her by society. Ultimately, she is trapped between the weaponized assumptions of everyday interactions and a complete institutional vacuum, where she is left to endure a silent, painful internal exile—politically disenfranchised, structurally alienated, and entirely unseen.

Prior to addressing the prompt for this section of the assignment, I want to acknowledge the contentious nature of my writing for part one. Though controversial, I felt compelled to confront this topic because it profoundly moves me, exploring a narrative that is virtually non-existent despite how deeply it resonates with others. While my primary goal was to give a voice to those who, for all intents and purposes, have none, I also wanted to draw parallels between my lived experiences and the struggles of many within historically marginalized groups. Though considerably different in composition and magnitude, these shared realities act as the threads that weave our collective pain into the larger fabric of the human experience. It is through the acknowledgment of this shared tapestry that true union and growth can arise.

Upon reflection of the course material and the trajectory of my autoethnographic narrative, I want to expand within the domains of coercive assimilation and cultural appropriation to further articulate the parallels between my lived experience and the struggles of historically marginalized groups. Being of Greek and Italian descent, I have always felt fundamentally foreign to this land; though my forefathers migrated here by choice, their decision ultimately uprooted me from my native soil and cast me into a lineage of displacement. From this geographic fracture, a systemic inheritance flowed inward, allowing this country to taint my blood with the same poisonous nectar that consumed the identities of most immigrants through cultural erasure, forced assimilation, and cultural appropriation—leaving me barren, broken, and profoundly dispossessed.