Imagine a pebble in your shoe that never leaves

Here's the thing about racism that nobody wants to discuss at dinner parties: the worst kind isn't always the obvious kind. It's not someone literally telling you that you can't enter a café because of your skin colour.

No, the racism that grinds you down day after day is far more subtle. It's called microaggression, and after living in Europe, specifically in Germany and the UK - for fifteen years as a brown person, I can tell you it's absolutely everywhere, even in supposedly "progressive" spaces.

Microaggressions are brief, everyday comments, actions, or assumptions that communicate bias or exclusion. They're always exhausting.

Stop thinking racism is just one dramatic moment.

People picture racism as this monumental, unmissable thing. A slur. A refusal of service. Something blatant.

The problem? That's only part of the story. The everyday microaggressions are what quietly reshape how you move through the world. They chip away at your confidence, your sense of belonging, and your mental health.

You're probably committing this form of racism without realising it.

My neighbour assumes my wife and I must be related to another Indian family in our building. Because we're all brown.

Someone told me: "You dress well for an Indian guy."

Someone tells me I must enjoy crowded places because I'm from India.

These aren't big moments. These are Tuesday afternoons. Stereotypes wrapped up as "just trying to connect."

There's a name for every type of subtle racism you've experienced.

Microinsults: Comments that communicate disregard. "You dress well for an Indian guy" or "Your English is so good!" (The implication? You shouldn't be this capable.)

Microassaults: Intentional but "joking" discrimination. The racist joke followed by "I was just joking."

Microinvalidations: Dismissing someone's lived experience. When someone tells you you're being "too emotional" about feedback. When they call you "too perfect" for pointing out something wrong.

I've noticed a pattern in how ideas get valued in professional spaces.

I present an idea in a meeting. Silence. Maybe a polite nod. Then someone else says something nearly identical. Suddenly everyone's enthusiastic: "Brilliant, let's run with that."

I've noticed over the years working across three companies in Germany, and previously in the UK, that ideas from people in underrepresented groups are often overlooked until they're reiterated by someone else. Then they somehow become "better."

I've had feedback in end-of-year reviews where I'm told I'm being "too emotional" about legitimate concerns. Or "too perfect" about something - as if the standard is different. I've learned not to take it personally, but that's itself exhausting, having to constantly recalibrate how I present myself just to be heard.

Your ideas aren't less valuable. They're just valued differently depending on who's saying them.

It's too small to prove. It's too big to ignore.

Companies invest in whistleblower policies for overt discrimination. HR exists for the documentable incidents.

But microaggressions? They live in a legal void. You can't file a complaint about someone saying you dress well for an Indian guy. You can't escalate feedback that subtly reframes your concerns as emotional rather than legitimate.

The answer is no. You can't prove it. Not in any way that wouldn't make you look like you're overreacting.

This is the design flaw of modern, supposedly progressive workplaces. The big stuff is illegal. The small stuff is deniable. The cumulative damage of a thousand small things is somehow your personal problem to manage.

You experience it. You go back to your normal life. And nobody has to answer for any of it because none of it is "that bad" individually.

But collected together? It absolutely is.

Your kindness doesn't excuse your blindness.

Some people genuinely think they're being helpful or friendly when they make these comments. My neighbour probably thought she was creating community. Someone complimenting how I dress probably thought they were being genuine.

But here's the thing: intent and impact are different. Someone can mean well and still communicate bias. It doesn't matter if it comes from ignorance rather than malice. The message lands the same way: you're not quite normal; you're primarily defined by your ethnicity rather than your individuality.

You're not tired because you're weak. You're tired because you're navigating an extra layer of everything.

Every time you question whether something was racist or just rude, you're expending emotional energy. Every time you soften your perspective to make someone else comfortable, you're compromising yourself. Every time you're told you're "too emotional," you internalise that your responses are wrong.

That exhaustion isn't weakness. You're still here. You're still functioning. You're still trying.

Staying silent protects the system, not you.

When something happens:

First, stay calm. Not because you owe anyone composure, but so you can think clearly about what you want to do next.

If you do address it, educate rather than accuse. "Actually, I dress however I want, and it shouldn't surprise you" lands better than a confrontation.

But here's the crucial bit: you don't have to educate anyone. Some days, "that's not accurate" and walking away is the right response.

It starts with you noticing. Then it ripples.

I don't have all the answers. But silence definitely doesn't help. What does help is recognition. Calling these things what they are. Having conversations about them.

If this resonates with you, you're already part of the shift.

This isn't about blame. This is about building better.

To anyone who's experienced microaggressions: you're not overreacting. You're not too sensitive. You're not seeing things that aren't there. You're not being "too emotional." This is real, and you deserve spaces where you're not constantly managing everyone else's comfort.

To everyone reading this: the next time you're about to make an assumption based on someone's ethnicity or gender, pause. Ask yourself: am I trying to connect, or am I trying to categorise?

Because there's a difference. And the world needs more of the former.

Written by someone who's navigated workplaces across multiple countries and noticed patterns that repeat. Who believes that change happens when we finally start talking about the stuff nobody wants to acknowledge.