I know the weight of being a healthcare worker — especially as an immigrant.
You try to give the utmost care to your client, knowing that your presence already carries extra scrutiny. It comes with many challenges. The language has to be learned. Of course, you learn the basics — but it’s never enough. You may have skills, training, and experience — still not enough.
In healthcare, care alone is not sufficient.
You need to calm the client.
You need to build trust.
You need to form a relationship where the time spent together leads to the best possible outcome.
So yes, I agree that everyone should be kind to one another, without immediately assuming racism exists everywhere.
But I also understand this uncomfortable truth: why would a vulnerable or sick client trust someone who cannot communicate clearly, or understand their needs precisely, every single day?
As a personal support worker in Canada, I’ve faced challenges that were deeply unsettling.
In the early days after coming here, I experienced situations where clients openly said they did not want me as their staff — or that they did not want anyone with a different skin colour. It was heartbreaking. I had the skills. But how do you build trust when rejection arrives before conversation?
I chose time over reaction.
I stayed calm.
I listened.
I observed.
I tried to communicate and engage, even when it felt one-sided.
Eventually, the client agreed to accept care from me. But one day, during a conversation, he said something that crossed a line:
“I should spank you if you don’t listen.”
I left the room without saying anything.
A coworker later told me they were shocked that I didn’t respond. But when everything is new — a new country, a new system, a language you’ve barely lived in — you don’t always know how to react. You’re balancing professionalism, survival, and communication all at once.
It took me a couple of days to process.
Then I went back to the client and said, calmly and clearly:
“I am a staff member who provides care to you. You will give me respect, and that respect will be reciprocated. Otherwise, I can ask my supervisor to change my assignment.”
That was it.
It never happened again.
Since then, I’ve applied this approach whenever a client makes an upsetting or unacceptable comment. Boundaries, once spoken clearly, often hold.
Recently, I witnessed another situation. A client was uncomfortable with a staff member from Nigeria. The staff member didn’t attempt communication or patience. He reported the incident immediately, stating the client didn’t want him because he was Black. His schedule was changed.
I don’t dismiss his pain. I don’t minimize humiliation.
But I wonder — in a profession like healthcare, where patience is essential and rapport is inevitable, how do we decide when to walk away and when to try?
I understand how hard it is to show up when you’re hurt.
But from my perspective, when a client is vulnerable or in pain, you cannot always control how they feel about you in that moment. That doesn’t excuse disrespect — but it complicates the situation.
While we speak about communication, I believe immigrants carry responsibility too.
Language isn’t just vocabulary. It’s tone, slang, metaphors, pauses, humor, and cultural context. Many local staff gossip or make comments openly, assuming immigrants won’t understand. Sometimes, they’re right — and that realization is deeply painful.
Personally, I started listening to the radio while driving. I watched old shows, series, and sitcoms. I paid attention to how people speak, joke, complain, and soften words. Not because I wanted to erase myself — but because I chose to live here.
So the question remains:
Is it only the responsibility of immigrants to adapt, learn, and endure?
Or is it also the responsibility of local communities to welcome, communicate, and treat everyone with dignity?
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