Diversity and Inclusion specialist. Creator of insideout. Loves hiking and dancing to BTS.

It was 3.30pm, about half an hour to go before my shift started. I put down my university work for the day and took my properly ironed waitering clothes off the hangars to my wardrobe. I buttoned my crisp white shirt with elegance, before tucking it into my black trousers.

All ready for a new waitering event, all ready to head to the engineering block of my university to carry it out. I walked across the lawn leading to the department, excited to see who might be joining me for the shift today. Normally there were regulars, but as most of us were students, you were more than likely to end up with someone new at every event.

I walked into the department lounge and saw that tables, cutlery and the sandwiches were already delivered. All I had to do was to find my colleagues and set things up.

There they were! Strolling from the hallway came two students dressed exactly the same as I was - white shirt and black trousers. We greeted, and looked around to search for our manager of the day.

After waiting nearly 15 minutes, she came walking up the front steps towards us in the lounge. We said hi, before she took out a piece of paper and scanned it rapidly with her sharp eyes.

“Looks like its you three today!”, she exclaimed.

We nodded, before she then glanced back at the paper again and referred to it back and forth while telling us what was needed for the event.

All this without making a single eye contact at me.

She had just spent nearly 10 minutes briefing us without making me feel that I existed. I was fuming standing next to my white colleagues. Do I, as a human being, have to prove that my existence is equally similar to the lives of everyone else on the planet? That I deserve the same respect accorded to the other standing 20cm from me?

The moment she left, I felt tired, confused... Was it how I looked? Was a hair out of place? Did my colleagues do something right while I didn’t?

For the remainder of the event, I couldn’t focus. How could I? Was I turning up for a job that existed but not of my integrity?

That day left me scarred for the rest of my life - that constant thought that I would have to always compete for my presence to be realized, for my existence to be taken seriously.

My advice

90% of communication is non-verbal. Forgive me for being so picky with the small details, but it is in them that counts the most. Body posture, eye contact, smiles, turning your body to face someone... everything counts.

They say action speaks louder than words, and with that also comes the responsibility in contributing to that atmosphere and experience of others. It is in the togetherness that matter most in our lives.