Stop Staring At Me

FACT: Lebanon has a collective staring problem. And if you never had one, move to Lebanon. You’ll be staring people down before you can say “Who me? Never!”

I’m not one of those girls that’s covered up in piercings nor do I walk around with a green Mohawk on my head wondering why people are piercing holes through my back. But at times, even in my least dainty of days, I find myself trying to dodge the most persistent of stares. The ones I’ve harboured the most anger for throughout the years: stares from strangers that happen to be standing right in one’s face. Really? People actually stop to stare whilst making eye-contact with you? In this city, Absolutely!

Let me give you some background on this. In my early teenage years my mother would take me out shopping, and while we’d both scan the racks, each in her own age-appropriate corner, my mother’s efforts would be thwarted by my somewhat distressed voice. She’d hurry over only to find me telling a complete stranger to stop staring at me. She never understood why it ticked me off so much. It’s rude I’d tell her. Be flattered, she’d say.

As the years went by, I learned to live with it, like most of us do with loosing battles. My friends and I always withstand the gorging stares of two men or women from a nearby table in a coffee shop, hoping they’ll just have enough. They seldom do.

So a couple of days back, I was standing at register in ABC paying, when a woman stood right by me, instead of waiting her turn BEHIND me. She got fixated and gave me the full-out scan treatment, her head doing titling motions, she even peeked in my handbag at one point. I was frozen, caught between calling her out and just letting it go. I hate public scenes and I knew she just wouldn’t get what the fuss was about, staring came so naturally to her.I let it go, like I do so often. It comes with the turf. You can take it or leave it.  I’m officially an enabler.