Congrats, You Might Be Racist

If you saw yourself in any of these, you’re not a bad person. But you’ve got work to do.

Someone recently told me racism isn’t really a thing anymore. (Which is wild considering I nearly pulled a muscle trying not to laugh.) I told them, calmly but with the energy of someone internally flipping a table, that they were wrong. Then I started listing a few everyday things people do that are, yes, actually racist. And they just sat there blinking, like, wow… I didn’t even know that was racist. Exactly. That’s the problem.

So now I’m bringing the list here. Not because I want applause, but because I’m tired. Tired of people thinking racism is just slurs and hate crimes, when most of it shows up in casual comments, dodgy compliments, and generational habits people mistake for "normal." This is not the full list. This is just what I could think of in under five minutes. (Imagine what else is floating in the collective soup.) If you see yourself in any of these? That’s not shame. That’s a good place to start unlearning.

“Racism refers to the belief that some races are inherently superior or inferior to others. It also includes the systemic oppression, exclusion, or mistreatment of people based on their race or ethnicity. Racism is not just personal prejudice. It exists in laws, institutions, behaviours, assumptions, and language.”— Equality and Human Rights Commission

Mentioning race when it’s irrelevant

If you start a story with, “So this Black girl at Tesco…” and her race is never mentioned again… what was the reason? Truly. What did that add? Unless someone’s race is genuinely relevant to the context (like… say, discussing racism), what you’re doing is racialising someone just for existing. You’re saying they were different, before you’ve said they were kind, rude, funny, tall, whatever. You wouldn’t say, “This white man bought a sandwich.” So why is everyone else’s race a plot point?

Mocking or imitating accents

If you’re doing an impression of your Uber driver, Deliveroo person, the woman in your local shop, or literally anyone who didn’t grow up sounding like a BBC weather presenter… please stop. I don’t care if “it’s just a joke” or “everyone laughed” — what you’re doing is turning someone’s culture, history, and voice into a punchline. You’re not doing comedy. You’re doing casual racism with flair.

What it is: Racism rooted in mockery. This is how xenophobia often hides in humour. And yes, this can be aimed at any race — mocking Asian, Eastern European, African, Caribbean, or even regional accents from working-class white communities still comes from the same place: superiority.

Singing racial slurs in song lyrics

If you wouldn’t say it in conversation, don’t say it in a song. I don’t care how catchy the beat is. I don’t care if “everyone else was saying it.” You don’t get a racism hall pass just because it rhymes. When you casually say slurs while singing (especially slurs that were used to degrade, enslave, and silence people) you're participating in the normalisation of language that was designed to harm.

Using whiteness as the baseline for incompetence

“I can’t dance, I’m so white.”

“I’m not good at sports… must be the whiteness.”

“I don’t season food because, well… white.”

We’ve all heard it. Some of us have even said it. But let’s be honest now: while it might sound harmless (even self-deprecating), it quietly reinforces the idea that other races are naturally built for certain talents, bodies, or behaviours — and that whiteness is the exception, the weak link, the awkward fish out of water. But that’s still racial stereotyping. That’s still reducing whole cultures to tropes. That’s still racism.

Reminder: “Positive” stereotypes are still stereotypes. They don’t flatter anyone; they flatten everyone.

Getting paranoid when someone speaks another language

This one is painfully common and painfully embarrassing. You’re in the nail salon. Or the off-license. Or literally anywhere someone starts speaking Spanish, Somali, Cantonese, or Urdu — and suddenly, it’s all eyes darting, whispers of “they’re obviously talking about me.” No they’re not, babe. They’re just speaking their language. You are not the Truman Show. You are not that interesting. And not everything revolves around your monolingual insecurity.

I’m from North Wales. I don’t speak Welsh fluently, but I grew up around it. And I’ve heard so many English people claim, dead serious, “They all switch to Welsh the second I walk in the pub. Clearly slagging me off.” No mate. They’re not performing a live roast session. They’re just Welsh. In Wales. Speaking the national language. Wild, I know.

Backhanded compliments with racial qualifiers

“You’re so pretty… for a Black girl.”

“You speak English so well!”

“You’re not like the others.”

Congratulations. You’ve just turned what could have been a normal compliment into a full-blown microaggression with a side of unseasoned bias. These phrases might sound well-meaning, but they carry the weight of a thousand assumptions: that beauty is white by default, that fluency is unexpected unless you’re British-born, that someone being “different” from their community makes them better.

What it really says: “I didn’t expect someone like you to impress me.”

What it really means: “I’m shocked by your existence, and I thought I’d let you know.”

These comments feel polite on the surface, but they expose the unconscious racism lurking underneath. You’re not complimenting someone; you’re measuring them against a stereotype and acting surprised when they don’t match it.

If your compliment includes a racial qualifier, it’s not a compliment. It’s a bias with lipstick on.

Excusing older generations for their racism

“They’re from a different time” gets thrown around like it’s a valid moral exemption. Sorry but racism didn’t age like milk. It was never right. Just because something was socially accepted doesn’t mean it wasn’t violent. Women couldn’t vote. People used asbestos as seasoning. We grow. We change. That’s the point.

“Being raised in a racist society might explain your views. It doesn’t excuse them. You are still responsible for unlearning what you were taught.”

It’s not about canceling Nana. It’s about recognising that generational trauma doesn’t stop unless we stop it. You wouldn’t defend someone for hitting a dog because “that’s just what they did in the 40s.” So don’t do it for racism either.

“I don’t see colour”

Ah yes. The old “I don’t see colour” line. It sounds like progress on paper. But in reality? It’s just denial in a sparkly dress. If you don’t see colour, you’re not seeing racism. If you don’t acknowledge race, you can’t acknowledge how it shapes people’s lives, safety, job opportunities, health outcomes, and how they move through the world.

Colourblindness isn’t progressive. It’s passive. You can’t fight what you refuse to see.

Racism doesn’t disappear because you chose to squint. And to be honest, most people who say “I don’t see colour” absolutely do. They just don’t want to talk about it.

Microaggressions

Microaggressions are like paper cuts. Small, but constant. One or two? Maybe you brush it off. But hundreds over a lifetime? You start bleeding out. These are the everyday slights people excuse as “curiosity” or “just being friendly.”

Asking “Where are you really from?” even after someone’s already said Manchester.

Touching Black people’s hair like it’s a free sensory exhibit.

Acting shocked when someone is articulate, wealthy, or educated.

Saying someone “speaks English well” when it’s literally their first language.

Assuming someone isn’t British because they don’t look how you imagined.

If someone tells you it hurt, don’t debate their experience. Don’t double down. Just apologise and do better. That’s how we grow. Not through defensiveness, but through listening.

Using diversity as a personal flex

“I’m not racist, I have Black friends.”

“I’ve dated a Latina before.”

“I matched with a Pakistani guy once.”

Okay. And?

Having friends, colleagues, or exes of different races doesn’t prove anything other than… that you’ve met people. You’re not collecting collectable cards. You’re not building an alibi. You don’t get ally points for proximity.

The real question isn’t who you know. It’s how you treat them. If your friends of colour only get name-dropped when you’re trying to defend yourself, maybe start there.

Policing non-Western food or smells

If you’ve ever walked into someone’s home, restaurant, or cultural space and loudly said “Wow, it smells… strong in here” — this one’s for you. That “weird smell” is probably garlic, fermented goodness, spice blends older than your country, or food that doesn’t cater to your beige palate. Western food doesn’t smell less. You’ve just been taught that non-Western food is different (and therefore something to be judged.) But your Tesco ready meal doesn’t exactly smell like roses either, babe. Let people enjoy things without commentary.

Calling certain neighbourhoods “sketchy” or “ghetto”

“You live there? Isn’t that… a bit dodgy?”

“Ugh, I never go to that area. It’s so sketch.”

And by “sketch”, you mean it’s not full of white people. Got it.

Calling an area dangerous when you haven’t seen a single crime stat, just a lot of brown faces, is racial bias in action. It’s often classist too. The coded language of “rough”, “ghetto”, “inner city”… it’s a way of othering whole communities while pretending it’s just about postcode.

When you say ‘that area feels unsafe,’ ask yourself — unsafe for who?

Getting defensive when racism is mentioned

This one’s a classic. The second racism is brought up, someone’s jaw locks. “Are you calling me racist?”

“Not everything is about race.”

“You’re being so sensitive.”

If your first instinct is defensiveness, not curiosity, ask yourself why. Nobody’s accusing you of committing a hate crime. They’re pointing out a pattern. A phrase. An assumption. That reaction? That flinch? That’s not allyship. That’s self-preservation dressed up as moral outrage. Being called out isn’t an attack. It’s an opportunity. What matters is what you do next. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be willing to be uncomfortable. That’s where the growth is.

Centreing your discomfort during conversations on racism

“But I’m a good person.”

“This makes me feel bad.”

“I just don’t want to be called racist.”

Right. But the thing is… anti-racism isn’t about how you feel. It’s about what you do. You don’t get to make the conversation about your guilt, your image, or your emotional safety while ignoring the people actually impacted by the thing we’re trying to fix.

If your main concern is how racism conversations make you feel, congratulations… you’ve made structural oppression about your vibe.

You can feel uncomfortable and still be a decent human. You just have to keep showing up anyway. Sit with it. Listen. Learn. Nobody’s asking you to bleed, just to stop centre-staging your discomfort

Romanticising or exotifying race

This is the “you’re so exotic” crew. The “I love brown girls, they’re so fiery” types. The “my future baby will be mixed with those cute curls” crowd. On the surface it might seem flattering. But what you’re doing is objectifying people under the illusion of admiration.

It’s not attraction. It’s fetishisation. It’s turning race into a kink. Culture into costume. People into products.

If your ‘type’ sounds more like a Pinterest board than an actual human being, it’s not love. It’s a colonial fantasy. You’re not celebrating difference. You’re consuming it. There’s a difference between appreciation and appropriation, and if you don’t know where that line is — you’re probably doing the latter.

Believing racism only exists in its most violent form

If you think racism only counts when someone’s wearing a white hood or burning crosses, you’re not paying attention. Racism exists quietly, consistently, and structurally. It’s in who gets hired, who gets followed around in shops, who gets listened to in meetings, and who gets labelled “angry” for setting a boundary.

Racism isn’t always a scream. Sometimes it’s a raised eyebrow. A silence. A pattern.

Jokes can be racist. Policies can be racist. Algorithms can be racist. Your discomfort does not make something less real — it just means it hasn’t hit you directly.

It’s Not Just You, It’s All of Us

Racism isn’t a personality flaw. It’s a system. A legacy. A script so deeply rehearsed that some people don’t even realise they’re reading from it. This list wasn’t written to shame, it was written to name. Because if you can’t name it, you can’t change it.

And no, you’re not a terrible person for recognising yourself in some of these. You’re just a person in a world built on bias. The point isn’t to get defensive. The point is to get better.

This is not a full syllabus. There are a thousand more examples I could’ve listed, and a thousand more after that. But this is a start. A mirror. A blurt. A “hey, maybe think about this before you say it again.” If you feel uncomfortable, that’s okay. Sit with it. Growth usually starts where ego ends.

Anti-racism is not about perfection. It’s about practice. About choosing curiosity over ego. About shutting up when it matters and speaking up when it counts.

And if all of this feels overwhelming? Good. That means you’re finally seeing it.

Let’s keep going.