By Nyleve Eiram 

Writer/Reporter 

There is an uncomfortable conversation that many Black people and people of color have had for generations: the experience of being spoken down to, dismissed, corrected unnecessarily, interrupted, or treated as if our intelligence, education, and lived experiences are somehow less valuable than those of the people speaking to us. 

Often times, these interactions are subtle. They come in the form of microaggressions, condescension, dismissiveness, or assumptions that may seem insignificant to the person engaging in them but are immediately recognizable to those receiving them. 

Microaggressions are everyday comments, actions, or behaviors that communicate bias, stereotypes, or disrespect toward marginalized groups. Individually they may appear minor, but repeated over time, they become a pattern that reinforces unequal treatment and unequal expectations. 

For Black women, these experiences often exist at the intersection of race and gender. We are expected to be accommodating, patient, and understanding, even when we are being spoken to in ways that would be considered inappropriate if directed toward others. When we challenge that treatment, our response is frequently scrutinized more than the behavior that prompted it. 

One issue that deserves greater discussion is how society often focuses on explaining behavior rather than addressing its impact. 

There are situations where a person’s disability may influence communication styles, social awareness, tone, or interpersonal interactions. Recognizing that reality is important. Accommodation and inclusion matter. 

However, understanding why something happened does not eliminate responsibility for its effects. Before anyone assumes this perspective comes from a lack of understanding about disability, it is important to understand that I myself live with disabilities. 

I understand what it means to navigate environments that are not always accessible. I understand communication challenges, frustration, and difficult days. Have I been rude before? Yes. I am human. What I have never done is use my disability as permission to disrespect people in professional, educational, or faith-based settings. 

Throughout my life, I have worked in customer service, government agencies, community organizations, schools, and churches. In every one of those spaces, I was expected to communicate respectfully and professionally. When I made mistakes, I was expected to acknowledge them and do better. 

No employer has ever excused inappropriate behavior because of my disability. No professor has lowered expectations for basic respect. No pastor has suggested that accountability should disappear when communication causes harm. 

That is why it becomes frustrating when Black people are expected to tolerate treatment from others that we ourselves would be criticized for. 

Too often, when a Black woman points out disrespectful communication or racial bias, the conversation shifts away from the behavior itself. The focus becomes protecting the feelings, intentions, or comfort of the person responsible instead of addressing the concern being raised. 

This dynamic can be connected to discussions about white fragility, a term used to describe defensive reactions that sometimes occur when issues of race, privilege, or bias are raised. Rather than engaging with the concern, attention is redirected toward avoiding discomfort. 

The result is that conversations about racial bias frequently become conversations about someone else’s feelings. Meanwhile, the original concern remains unresolved. 

Speaking from personal experience, some of the most frustrating interactions have not been openly racist. They have been subtle enough to be dismissed individually, yet consistent enough to form a pattern. Examples include being spoken to as though I am a child, having information repeatedly explained to me after I have already demonstrated understanding, watching concerns be ignored until they are repeated by someone else, being expected to absorb dismissive behavior while remaining calm and agreeable, and having legitimate concerns reframed as overreactions rather than being considered on their merits. 

These experiences are difficult to explain to people who have never encountered them. For many Black people, however, they are familiar. The goal of this conversation is not to attack white people. It is not to attack people with disabilities. It is to challenge the belief that accountability should disappear when discussing race, disability, or power dynamics. 

Respect should be the baseline expectation for everyone. 

A disability may provide context for behavior, but it should not function as a shield against accountability. Likewise, discomfort during conversations about race should not be used to dismiss the experiences of people who are directly affected by discrimination or bias. Mutual respect requires mutual responsibility. 

As a Black woman with disabilities, I understand both the importance of accommodation and the importance of accountability. The two are not opposites. In fact, they should coexist together, and I have spent too much of my life being expected to make myself smaller so that others can remain comfortable.  

That expectation does not create understanding. It creates imbalance.