Maybe I am Italian

"Are you Italian?" a random 40-something on the subway blurts in my direction.

"Oh, geez, not again." I think. I'm about as stereotypically Jewish as it gets, but I get the Italian question a lot. What is it about me? My dark features? My pasty white skin? My high cheek bones? Other features...?

Is this an appropriate question to ask?

When is it appropriate to ask a total stranger his or her nationality? You wouldn't ask your random Jose on the subway if he prayed with a rosary or if he fasted during daylight for a month or if he avoided animal products, right? You wouldn't flat-out say, are you a Buddhist? The crazy proselytizers handing out Jesus flyers aside, religion, ethnicity, nationality are all very private and personal matters in this country, no?

I'm not saying I get offended when someone asks me if I am Italian. I take it as a compliment. I love Italian culture, art, jewelry, food, and the people, but, honestly?

To the contrary, I usually engage in conversation and offer where my grandparents and great-grandparents came from: Poland, Austria, Lithuania, Russia, Romania. Pale of Settlement Eastern Europe. Places I am the least bit proud of and feel no connection to whatsoever. "Are you Jewish?" I do get after a little conversation. "Yes." They've found me out. I'm a little uncomfortable but a little relieved a piece of my Jew-iness has found the light.

Where's the line? Can we be Americans and denude ourselves of origins and identity? Do we want no marking features but want them at the same time?