A practical guide to navigating racism at work
Most people who experience racism at work know it’s coming, even if they can’t predict when.
There’s a quiet kind of waiting that happens, in a meeting, over lunch, during after-work drinks, in a taxi on the way to an event. At some point, someone relaxes, their guard drops, and something slips out.
When it does, your response depends on more than instinct. It depends on power, context, timing, and how much safety you actually have in the room. There isn’t one right response. There’s only the response that protects you best in that moment.
That’s what makes these situations so complicated.
Let me share an example that shows how this plays out in real life.
We were in the middle of a planning session. The team was brainstorming, building on each other’s ideas, fully engaged. Then Larry, a peer of mine, made a comment directed at Tracy, an Asian woman on the marketing team.
“Let’s say Tracy opens her own bubble tea shop,” he said.
The room changed instantly.
Larry was experienced, confident, and well-liked. He often shared his expertise, and the team respected him. But in that moment, Tracy wasn’t being addressed as a professional. She had been reduced to a stereotype in front of the people she worked with every day.
This is the kind of moment people underestimate.
It doesn’t just sting. It recalibrates how safe someone feels.
Before I could even decide what to do, two people spoke up. Tracy’s boss and a peer immediately called the comment offensive and out of line.
That mattered more than people realize.
When someone else names the harm, it takes pressure off the person who was targeted. It tells them they’re not alone. It tells the room what behavior is acceptable. And it interrupts the instinct many workplaces have to move on quickly and pretend nothing happened.
I called a short break and checked in with Tracy. I let her decide whether she wanted to continue. She chose to stay, not because she felt fine, but because professionalism often feels like the safest choice when you don’t want to draw more attention to yourself.
During the break, I spoke with Larry. He told me he knew the comment was wrong as soon as it came out. He explained where it came from. I told him he needed to apologize to Tracy. He agreed.
He did apologize later. But as Tracy would later share, it was one of those apologies that came with explanation, almost as if he was trying to soften what he’d done by justifying it. Those apologies rarely rebuild trust.
In the background, Tracy’s boss escalated the situation to HR after another team member shared that Larry had made similar comments before. I also spoke with my boss.
When my boss reacted with genuine anger, I felt relief. I’d seen too many situations in the past brushed off as “no big deal.” This time, it was taken seriously. Larry was told it was unacceptable.
And yet, everyone understood the reality.
Larry was good at his job. He had strong relationships with senior leadership. There were no real consequences beyond being spoken to. No formal discipline. No change in role.
This is where the real takeaway starts.
Because racism at work doesn’t end with an apology or a conversation. It continues in how safe people feel afterward.
For Tracy, the impact wasn’t just the comment. It was what came next.
She stayed professional. She worked with Larry when she had to. But she didn’t go out of her way to interact with him. She didn’t invest beyond what the job required. Any trust she had was gone.
That response is often misunderstood.
People expect the person harmed to either confront loudly or forgive fully. But there’s another option that often makes the most sense. Distance. Boundaries. A recalibration of how much access someone gets to you.
That’s not avoidance. It’s self-protection.
So what can you take from this if something similar happens to you?
First, trust your reaction. If something felt off, it was. Don’t minimize it or explain it away. The instinct to downplay is often about survival, not accuracy.
Second, pay attention to who speaks up and who stays silent. That tells you a lot about the culture you’re operating in. Allyship isn’t a statement. It’s a moment, and moments like these reveal who actually has your back.
Third, document what happened, even if you think it’s “small.” Dates, words, context. Not because you want to escalate immediately, but because patterns matter. And memory fades faster than systems change.
Fourth, decide what kind of relationship you want with the person afterward. You don’t owe closeness. You don’t owe emotional labor. Professionalism is enough.
And finally, notice how leadership responds. Not just in what they say, but in what they’re willing to do. If harm is acknowledged but never addressed in a way that changes behavior, that’s information. It helps you decide how much of yourself you’re willing to invest there.
Racism at work isn’t always loud, but it always teaches you something about the environment you’re in.
The goal isn’t to handle every situation perfectly. The goal is to protect your dignity, your energy, and your future.
You didn’t imagine it. And how you choose to respond is allowed to be thoughtful, strategic, and centered on you.