10 People Discuss What They Consider to Be Microaggressions

You know those small, seemingly harmless comments or actions that make us feel a little off, like something rubbed us the wrong way, but it was subtle, right? That’s what microaggressions are. 

They may not always be intentional, but they sting. Sometimes they come in the form of a thoughtless joke, a casual remark, or just the tone of someone’s voice. 

I spoke to 10 people who shared their perspectives on the subject and on what they consider microaggressions in their everyday lives. Spoiler alert: It's not just about big offences; sometimes, it’s the little things that add up. 

Microaggressions come in all forms, some subtle, some more obvious. They’re often defined as brief, everyday exchanges that convey denigrating messages to people based on their group membership (e.g., race, gender, ethnicity). These offences, though sometimes unintentional, accumulate and take a toll on individuals.

What makes microaggressions so insidious is their frequency. They’re small enough to be dismissed as harmless but damaging enough to be felt over time.

There are three primary types of microaggressions:

These are explicit, often intentional attacks. Think of a racial slur or offensive comment. It’s the stuff that’s downright ugly.

Comments or behaviours that indirectly demean someone’s identity. A classic example is saying someone ‘speaks well for a foreigner,’ or questioning a woman’s career accomplishments just because she’s a woman.

These occur when someone's feelings or experiences are minimised. Like when a person’s challenges are dismissed with “Don’t be so sensitive” or “It’s just a joke.”

READ ALSO: 7 Practical Ways to Improve Communication in the Workplace

Ife kicks things off with a simple, yet strikingly familiar experience. “It’s those crazy response systems. You know when someone asks you, ‘Where should I put it?’ and they say, ‘Put it on my head?’ Like, why is that the default? It’s so unnecessary. It feels like they don’t even care about your question or your time. It’s just a way to dismiss you."

Ife's take speaks to a broader issue: the assumption that certain responses are automatically acceptable, without considering whether they’re actually appropriate or respectful. That quick, offhand remark might not feel like much to the person saying it, but to the recipient, it comes off as dismissive.

Tolu agrees. “I can’t stand it when people say, ‘How are you?’ and then don’t wait for an answer. It’s just the whole ‘I’m asking, but I’m not really interested in your response.’ It’s rude, and honestly, it feels like they don’t care about me as a person.”

Tolu’s frustration is valid. That “How are you?” can seem robotic if it’s not followed up with genuine interest. What was meant to be a friendly greeting instead feels empty, like a checkmark on a to-do list. It’s one of those little things that, over time, can make you feel like you’re invisible.

Ngozi goes further, tapping into a more serious form of microaggression. “It’s when someone compliments your work and then says, ‘For someone from your background, I’m surprised.’ I mean, what does that even mean? Are you trying to praise me, or are you just reminding me that you think I’m from a lesser place?”

She’s speaking to the experience of being put in a box, of someone subtly implying that they never expected you to do well, simply because of where you’re from or how you look.

Kofi shares his experience, adding a different layer. “As a guy, it’s the ‘Oh, you’re not like the other guys.’ I’ve had this comment a few times, and every time, it makes me cringe. It’s like, just because I don’t fit the stereotypical male ‘macho’ image, I’m ‘different’ in some positive way. ‘’Why should my being me be seen as such a surprise?”

Kofi's take highlights how microaggressions often carry an underlying assumption about who we’re supposed to be, based on our gender or personality. It’s a subtle form of categorisation that can make anyone feel isolated.

Chinonso’s view is especially powerful. “When someone tells me ‘You speak so well for a Nigerian,’ or ‘You don’t look like you’re from Nigeria,’ it’s as if I’m expected to be loud, unpolished, or… what, less educated? It’s exhausting. It’s like I’m being told that I don’t belong in spaces where intelligent, well-spoken people are supposed to be. The assumption that we can’t be more is a form of microaggression.”

Chinonso is pointing to a form of racialised microaggression where stereotypes shape people’s expectations of how a person should present themselves.

Olumide discusses colourism in microaggressions. “It’s when people tell me that my skin tone is ‘too dark’ or ‘not the right shade for this job.’ I’ve heard it in interviews. I mean, how is that even relevant to the conversation? It’s just a tiny comment, but it makes me question if they’re seeing me for who I am or just the colour of my skin.”

Olumide’s experience is a reminder that microaggressions can have racial undertones, and what seems like a small statement can carry a lot of weight in someone’s life.

Emeka recounts his microaggression experience. “It’s always the ‘Oh, but you’re different’ comment. I’m talking about being called ‘well-spoken’ or ‘articulate’ for a Nigerian man. It feels like a backhanded compliment. Like, am I not supposed to speak well because I’m Nigerian? Or because I’m a guy? It’s that implicit bias that shows up in the smallest ways that you just can't ignore.”

Chiamaka recalls something more casual but just as bothersome: “It’s when people ask you, especially family members, ‘When are you getting married?’ Like, why does it matter? I’m a woman in my 30s, but it’s like everyone’s more concerned with my relationship status than anything else. It feels like they’re invalidating everything I’ve achieved by making me feel incomplete.” 

Chiamaka’s experience highlights how societal expectations around marriage, especially for women, can manifest as microaggressions that undermine personal growth or accomplishments.

Olamide shares, “I hate it when people say, ‘Don’t be so sensitive, it was just a joke!’ When someone makes a joke at your expense, and then you react, they just tell you to chill. Like, it’s not about being sensitive, it’s about being respected.” Olamide’s frustration points out how dismissing someone’s feelings as ‘overreacting’ is a common way that microaggressions are excused. Jokes at someone’s expense are still jokes with real impact, and telling someone to ‘chill’ only invalidates their experience.

Sade speaks about a microaggression that many might be familiar with: “When someone asks where you’re from, and you say Nigeria, and they respond with ‘Wow, Nigeria! I’ve always wanted to visit! Are you from Lagos?’ It’s like Lagos is the only place that exists in the entire country. It shows that they don’t know enough about where I come from, or they don’t care to know. It’s dismissive.”

Sade’s experience points to a lack of awareness of the rich diversity within Nigeria and how assumptions about one’s home can reduce an entire country to a single stereotype.

READ ALSO: How to Revive a Dying Friendship When Life Gets in the Way

So, how do we deal with these? First, it’s important to recognise them. We can’t address what we don’t see. Second, it’s okay to call them out, respectfully. You don’t always have to be confrontational, but politely informing someone of how their words or actions made you feel can help. 

Lastly, self-care is essential. Don’t internalise the hurt. Microaggressions often speak more about the person delivering them than the person receiving them.

Microaggressions are often brushed off as “no big deal,” but their cumulative impact is real. They shape how we see ourselves and how we interact with the world. As Nigerians, we face a unique set of microaggressions, sometimes tied to our heritage, our gender, or simply being human in a fast-paced world. 

Understanding these microaggressions and how to handle them is the first step toward making real change in how we communicate and respect each other.