A Name From the Past
How one small moment brought back a chapter I rarely revisit.
Today, while absent-mindedly scrolling through Facebook, I stopped at the “People You May Know” list. I usually scan it quickly, hoping I might recognise someone from Jamaica.
But this time, one familiar face made me pause.
In an instant, memories came rushing back – along with feelings I thought I had already left behind.
It was the profile of an ex-colleague from a company I worked at years ago.
Seeing their name instantly pulled me back into a chapter of my life I don’t revisit often – a time that held more pain than I like to remember.
It reminded me of a workplace where I learned, very quickly, how heavy silence, racism and quiet resilience can feel all at once.
That particular colleague never hurt me personally. But the company did. Many people in my department did.
During my time there, I experienced a lot of racism and bullying. Sometimes when I think about it now, what hurts the most is that many of the people who behaved that way seem to be doing just fine in life, with no remorse for how they treated others.
Sometimes I wonder, are people still bullies if they tried to bully you but never got the reaction they wanted?
Because that was my approach. I handled every racist comment and every moment of bullying with grace. I gave them no reaction.
If anything, that seemed to frustrate them even more. They either looked foolish afterwards or seemed confused about why their behaviour didn’t get under my skin.
What they didn’t see was what happened later.
At work, I carried myself with a calm “I don’t even see you” attitude. But every bit of pain, frustration, and anger was buried inside until I got home.
Then I would rant to my cousin and my boyfriend about everything that had happened that day.
To this day they remind me how, almost every evening, I would come home exhausted and frustrated from work, telling them about another incident. We can laugh about it now, but at the time those were very difficult days.
I remember how excited I was when I first got the job. I had just graduated with a degree in advertising and marketing communications, and it felt like a dream opportunity.
I was the only Black person on my team. In fact, there weren’t many Black employees across the company at all, which had over 2,000 staff worldwide. I didn’t really notice that at first until someone pointed it out later.
A few years later I realised something that was hard to swallow.
The main reason I was hired was likely so the company could promote diversity.
My intellect, my degree, and my ability were secondary.
Another woman was hired at the same time as me. Let’s call her Laura.
At first it seemed like we both got along with everyone. But small things started happening. At lunchtime, Laura would invite everyone around our age to lunch – except me.
It wasn’t pleasant, but I kept my head high and continued with my day.
This went on for quite some time until one day my manager stepped in and asked Laura if it was okay for me to join them for lunch.
She meant well. She saw what was happening and didn’t want me to feel excluded.
But I felt embarrassed. I’m not someone who begs to be included.
I went along anyway. The pavement was narrow and busy with people passing by, so there wasn’t really space for all of us to walk side by side. I ended up trailing slightly behind them as we walked, listening to a conversation that never quite included me.
Not long after that, another woman joined the team and we became friends. She was friendly with everyone, but she showed me enough kindness that I felt I could trust her, although I still kept most things to myself.
A few months after she joined, she said something that shocked me.
She said, “Laura is racist towards you.”
I was surprised she said it out loud, but at the same time I felt strangely relieved that someone else had noticed.
She hadn’t heard it from me. She had simply seen it herself.
Later that evening, during a work social after a few drinks, she mentioned it to someone in HR. At one point a colleague from HR came over to me at the bar and, trying to make themselves heard over the loud music, leaned in and insisted that I should report it formally when I was back in the office.
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But I never did.
Not long after that, my manager left the company. I remember crying when she told me. It somehow became big news in the department that I had been upset.
Many people didn’t like her. Maybe it was because she was extremely good at her job. She was one of those people who stood out.
There were many other incidents during my time there, too many to write about here.
One thing I learned the hard way was the importance of documenting everything.
I once told my new manager verbally that I couldn’t finish a task because I was waiting on information from another colleague. The next day I was called into a meeting and accused of sending incomplete work.
That was the day I learned a valuable lesson: always send an email. Always leave a trail. Because without it, people can twist the story.
If I keep writing every detail, this really could turn into a book.
One day a new girl joined the team. I was asked to train her.
So I did.
I trained her on everything I knew – proofreading complex cyber security white papers, simplifying technical language, managing and updating the website, creating marketing materials, managing social media, writing press releases, and more.
Weeks went by.
What I didn’t realise was that I was training my replacement.
Soon after, they moved me into an administrative role and gave her my desk.
The very role I had trained her for became her position.
Meanwhile, I was now doing the tasks no one else wanted to do – ordering things, handling invoices, running around helping everyone else. I had essentially become the department’s admin support.
It became very clear that they didn’t want me there anymore.
Over time I experienced many things that no one should have to experience at work – racist remarks, being publicly criticised in group emails for small mistakes while others received private feedback, being paid the lowest salary on the team, even having items placed in my drawer to make it seem like I had taken them.
I was also sexually assaulted during that time.
Looking back, it was a very heavy season of my life.
There were also moments when people admitted things indirectly. During drunken work nights out I was told that if I had been treated differently because of my race, I should say something. Even the temporary head of marketing once admitted they hadn’t treated me well.
Another colleague who was on maternity leave supported me a lot. She also experienced unfair treatment and understood what was happening.
Despite everything, I did meet some wonderful people there. Some of them are still my friends today. There were good moments too.
But if I’m honest, the bad outweighed the good.
Eventually I left the company.
Looking back now, I know I should have left much sooner.
So yes, seeing that old colleague’s name on Facebook brought back a lot of memories.
But I don’t carry those memories with bitterness anymore.
I leave them with God, and I continue living my life.
Because some chapters are not meant to be revisited – only remembered as proof of how far you’ve come.
For a long time, I carried those experiences quietly. Not because they didn’t hurt, but because I chose not to let them harden me.
Looking back now, I realise that season taught me more about my strength than I understood at the time. It taught me how to carry myself with dignity even when others did not treat me with it.
Some chapters of life are painful while you are living through them, but later they become reminders of resilience.
I leave those memories with God and continue forward – lighter, wiser and still becoming.
After sitting with the memory for a moment, I closed Facebook and carried on with my day – quietly thankful that God carried me through that season.
