By Katja Mellotte

I am an immigrant. Like many others, I decided to leave my home country in search of a better life. Of course, moving from one country to another is not easy; there are often many bureaucratic steps and logistical challenges that one must overcome before even arriving in your chosen country. And that is merely the tip of the iceberg. Being an immigrant is not all rosy and wonderful, and it can be truly difficult to navigate life in a new country – particularly when it is one very different to your own. 

Why do people not kiss each other on the cheek to greet each other? Why do cafés close so early? It’s 13°C, and nobody is wearing a coat to the club! Homesickness and nostalgia will come in waves, food won’t taste the same, and although you may understand what people are saying, sometimes you might not understand their specific meaning.

Even after you have waded through the murky waters of cultural assimilation and have started trying to fit into your new life, you still have to wrestle with the dragon that is microaggressions. You will never be more conscious of your national identity or ethnicity than when you become a ‘foreigner’.

There is always a small vocal minority who is openly xenophobic and discriminatory. More often than not, though hurtful and obviously terrifying, you can try to ignore them under the pretence that they just do not understand the benefits of diversity. I find the often well-meaning but often misguided cases of microaggressions more hurtful. They serve as a reminder that you do not quite belong, as hard as you may try.

For those that aren’t sure what a microaggression is, it is a statement or action that can often be regarded as unintentional discrimination. For instance, when someone begins to speak about foreigners in a negative light and, upon looking at you, quickly adds, ‘Oh, but I don’t mean you/people like you’. I know exactly what they mean and what foreigners they are referring to, but being ‘the right kind of foreigner’ is not the compliment that they believe it is.

What they mean, put simply, is that I am the sort of foreigner that blends in. My accent isn’t strong, I can easily pass for a local at first glance, and culturally I have assimilated. I am the kind of foreigner you would probably never notice is actually a foreigner: I blend in. I have heard many times, ‘Oh, I would never have known you were foreign!’, or ‘I forgot your native language isn’t English/I forgot you weren’t from here’. This is both a kiss on the cheek and a slap. On the one hand, it feels good not to be treated differently. But then there is the tone of surprise, the expectation that most foreigners would stand out or be different, and the reminder again that I do not fully belong.

This blending in is often presented as something to feel proud of, as though we should want to be as unobtrusive as possible. The reality is that it highlights two things: the first is that for some people, being a foreigner is a bad thing, something to overcome, and the second is that no matter how hard you try, you will never fully fit in. It doesn’t matter how many times I can be told that had I not mentioned it, they would have never guessed I wasn’t a native speaker. It stings to think that had I not been arbitrarily assigned through genetics certain features, or the ability to emulate accents, I would be considered less than. It hurts to think that my mother, who sounds distinctly foreign, does not receive the same treatment that I do by virtue of being easily identifiable as a foreigner. 

There is a tendency we all have of thinking our cultural experiences are universal, and we are often surprised when these don’t match those of others. ‘You don’t know (insert specific cultural experience here)?!’. It’s easy to forget we do not all partake in the same sports, have the same food, or even watch the same television shows, but it inadvertently serves to remind us of our status as a foreigner. 

Being a foreigner also includes hurdles such as language. Even if you have learnt the ‘target language’ in school, more often than not, what you learn in school is pretty much useless in the real world unless you have sufficient experience through media, classes, or speaking to locals. Even then, every region has their own colloquialisms, expressions, and quirks of language that you must often learn as you go along. I had never heard the expressions ‘what’s the craic?’, ‘your man’ or ‘to be scundered’ before arriving in Northern Ireland, so it was a bit of a learning curve. 

Then there are those who, when you ‘blend in’, before finding out you are indeed ‘a foreigner’, speak to you normally only to change to a slower, more simplified manner once they are made aware that you are not local. It feels infantilising when they slow down their speech, enunciate more and gesticulate, over-explaining terms that you understand perfectly well.

I was recently asked by an insurance provider, after about ten minutes of clear, easy conversation, if I needed a translator. At an appointment with a midwife, after they noticed my very foreign name, I was again asked if I would need a translator, although I had already ticked NO on my form. I know this is most likely well-intentioned, and people often just want to help, but it feels patronising and is indeed a microaggression.

Finally, there are always those that ask you, ‘When are you going home?’, or who, on the contrary, assume your country of origin should no longer feel like home now that you have a life in their country. The first is obviously exclusionary. I was asked this before a practical driving exam, and you can imagine how off-putting this was. The second instance is tougher to explain. You would think perhaps that it is not offensive to assume your new country is now ‘home’, but this feels a little like your identity is being invalidated, like somehow this new country needs to be a priority, and you need to forget your roots. It’s a twofold problem.

Being a foreigner is not something to be ashamed of; it’s not something to overcome. It’s just something you are, and it can be tough, lonely, and scary. But it can also be one of the most rewarding experiences of your life. You may discover new places you have always wanted to explore, experience new and wonderful cultures, make a wonderful group of tight-knit friends, and even meet your person. Everyone deserves to search for a better life, and those of us that choose to shouldn’t have to deal with microaggressions in the process.