Aneeka’s story

"My body was carrying the anxiety even when I tried to mask it with a “brave face”. "

I was anxious before I even set off for another city for a work event. The recent marches and the constant sight of England flags where I live had left me on edge. Even my neighbour’s 13-year-old had put one up in their window. As a visibly brown woman, I couldn’t stop worrying about how I would be perceived in a city I’d been warned could be hostile.

The anxiety didn’t fade when I arrived. On the first day, the 20-minute walk to my hotel was filled with stares and longer than fleeting glances, some openly looking at me in disgust. I caught myself pulling out my phone a few times to check if something was on my face. The sense of being “looked at” was relentless. That night, as I got out of a taxi directly outside the hotel, a group of white women sneered and stepped toward me in a way that felt like they wanted to intimidate me and said something, but it was slurred. I shut down – no eye contact, no reaction, just needing to get to safety.

The next morning should have felt easier, but it didn’t. Waiting to check out, I overheard people talking about a football match that day. My mind immediately leapt to risk assessment: what would the crowds be like? What route home would feel safest? I reminded myself again: avoid eye contact, don’t linger, don’t stand out, but don’t take shortcuts through quiet streets either because as a woman, I also need to think about the threat of assault. It is exhausting to constantly measure every move against a backdrop of threat.

For two days I lived in that state of hypervigilance. My smartwatch showed low oxygen levels from poor sleep, stress, and dehydration.

My body was carrying the anxiety even when I tried to mask it with a “brave face”.

– Aneeka

It wasn’t until I got home that my heart rate returned to normal and noticed the relief settle in – the heaviness I’d carried lifted within an hour. I didn’t even realise I was carrying it until I found myself wondering why I suddenly felt so much happier, but exhausted.

Reflecting on it, I thought about conversations I’ve had with a close family member. He watches the news daily, believes many of the narratives I disagree with and repeats them. Despite coming here himself because the UK needed nurses, he now echoes a lot of far-right, anti-immigration rhetoric. It hurts when family doesn’t see how these stories feed into fear or hatred and, harder still, because challenging those views feels like challenging them. It’s a kind of loneliness that stays with you if you don’t have other support systems in place.

That two-day stretch showed me something important: racism isn’t always about direct words or actions. It can be the constant, grinding stress of anticipating hostility; of never switching off.

Even when nothing “happens”, your body knows it has been under siege, and the constant awareness that is needed to stay out of danger really does take its toll.

– Aneeka