I enter my colleague’s office, grabbing two large boxes filled with books, diplomas and office supplies. I am helping my friend move out and she has left her belongings neatly stacked for me to grab and put into my car.
As I exit the office suite with multiple boxes in my arms, I have trouble opening the door. A faculty member nearby sees me struggle and graciously offers to open it for me.
He moves toward the door and opens it. As I pass through and thank him, he asks, “What are you stealing?” Shocked, I force a smile and keep walking toward my car. That stung. I know he did not mean any harm. He probably felt good about opening the door for me and thought that his comment was a light-hearted joke. But it did bother me.
Having navigated institutions where I was one of very few Latinos, I have become hyper-aware of all my interactions with people. So when a “harmless” joke is said toward me during a political and racial climate where people like me are often associated with thieves, criminals or even animals, these types of interactions do matter. I find myself ignoring it at the moment to avoid confrontation, but the question of “Why does he think that’s okay?” lingers.
Microaggressions – brief comments or interactions that are indirect, subtle and often unintentionally discriminatory towards a marginalized group – are nothing new to my experiences in higher education. As a first-year student in college, I knew I was experiencing something wrong but I didn’t have the vocabulary or understanding to describe it. Whether it was “compliments” of how well I spoke English (my first language) or having lab partners second-guess my work because I went to a summer bridge program, these instances stung and made me feel inept. And all I could say about it at the time was that it didn’t feel right.
I learned more about microaggressions in group discussions about campus climate issues or events organized by cultural student organizations. I learned about the psychology behind it and why it is important to respond as a victim or a bystander. After learning how an accumulation of these can detract from a sense of belonging, cause self-doubt and can lead to other mental health issues, I began to understand the importance of taking action.
That’s when the guilt kicks in. By not speaking up, I allow this type of behavior to continue. Part of me knows why — because he didn’t mean any harm. But it’s still not okay. Rather than being honest with him and letting him know what he said was offensive, I think, “How will addressing this affect me in the long-run? Am I being too sensitive?”
