I’ve been in Ireland for a year and for the most part, I’ve kept my experiences of racism to myself. Initially, I did this because I struggled to recognise what counted as racism, while later on, I had my experiences invalidated by both white and non-white people. Add to that the desire not to come across as an ungrateful guest in a country where racism, apparently, rarely happens, I had always wondered if I was reading too much into things.

How was I to tell myself, let alone others, that I feel invisible in groups of white people because it seems like no one really listens when I speak? And that I’m talked over because they don’t expect me to understand the conversation, even though my English is perfect? Or ask why South Asians are compelled to emphasise their hygiene and moral character when applying for housing to landlords, while Europeans casually describe their quirky personalities and travel bucket lists and still get 10 times the number of viewings?

The first obstacle to speaking up, I learned, was the human need to feel equal to everyone else. To assume otherwise would be to question the basis of every interaction, every friendship, one’s reasons for coming here, and potentially drive oneself crazy. Let me be clear: I didn’t come here wanting to feel this way. In fact, I came to Ireland seeking tolerance and to be understood.

The recent attacks on Indians in Ireland were so clearly motivated by hate that they confirmed my experiences weren’t unique and went deeper than I imagined. Seeing it out in the open, feeling afraid for the first time while walking on the street, prompted me to seek out other people of colour and hear their experiences. In some cases, the violent nature of what they were facing was beyond doubt.