It started innocently—someone who stood out, but was not questioned. There was no real curiosity, no “can I do anything for you?”—just conversations when that person wasn’t around. Instead of offering support, people complained to the manager. No space for nuance, just assumptions filling in the blanks. Slowly, a workplace that once felt welcoming began to normalize exclusion.
I watched as this person tried harder and harder. They bent over backwards to be nice, to take on more work, to try to rejoin the team. But the label that had been attached to them didn’t fade; it only grew stronger. Gossip, complaints, bullying, and exclusion intensified until eventually it became unbearable. In the end this person left —not because they wanted to, but because staying meant losing themselves. Leaving was the only way to regain their sense of belonging.
As for me? I was there, in and out. I tried to smooth things over, to walk away from gossip when I could, to offer help, and I was the one who had conversations with them. And no matter how difficult it was, I’m proud that I stayed true to myself. I didn’t follow the crowd; I chose to stand with humanity. To listen. To see the person who they truly were.
Being different is beautiful. It’s powerful. But it can be tough—unless people take the trouble to ask questions, to understand, and to offer support. That’s when someone can truly shine, rather than being lost in what others assume about them.
And you know what’s perhaps the most amazing part of all?
We’re still in touch. Despite everything —and maybe because of everything.