Office Politics Nigerian Migrants Quietly Deal With Abroad (and How to Respond)

The meeting starts on time. Your slides are clean, your numbers add up, and you’ve practised the key lines in your head on the train. Still, as you speak, you notice the small things: the way someone talks over you, the way a manager looks past you to the “local” colleague, the way your point lands flat until someone else repeats it.

This is office politics for many Nigerian migrants abroad. Not the loud kind, not the soap-opera kind, but the quiet kind that decides who gets trusted, who gets the best projects, and who gets to lead.

If you’re in the UK, US, Canada, Europe, or Australia, this piece puts names to the patterns many people live through, then offers calm, practical ways to protect your peace and your career without turning every workday into a fight.

The quiet office politics Nigerian migrants face abroad

Office politics isn’t only gossip or cliques. It’s power and access: who gets information early, who gets praised in public, who gets protected when things go wrong, and who is assumed competent before they’ve even spoken.

For Nigerian migrants, the politics often has an extra layer. It’s shaped by accent, race, assumptions about Africa, and how “local” your work history looks. The result can feel like living in two workplaces at once: the one in your contract, and the one in people’s heads.

In day-to-day terms, it shows up like this:

• In meetings, you’re asked for “quick thoughts” after everyone else has said theirs, as if you’re a late add-on.
• In the lunchroom, jokes and shared stories move fast, and you’re expected to laugh even when you don’t get the reference.
• In performance reviews, your work is “solid”, but your “presence” or “style” needs work, with no clear example.

These patterns don’t always come with shouting or slurs. Often they arrive as small cuts, repeated until they start to shape your options.

Research and surveys in recent years keep pointing to the same themes: bias tied to ethnicity and nationality, slower progression, and barriers that sit outside formal policy. A 2025 HR survey summary on workplace politics shows how much informal influence affects trust and retention, even in firms with rules on paper (Brightmine workplace politics insights for 2025). For migrants, that informal influence can decide everything.

In some sectors, these pressures are linked to people leaving. A UK-focused report on internationally educated nursing staff describes how poor treatment and lack of support can push skilled staff out (Royal College of Nursing report). You don’t need to be a nurse to recognise the pattern: when respect is rationed, people burn out or move on.

Accent bias, name bias, and being treated like you need “translation”

Accent bias can be polite on the surface. Someone speaks slowly to you, over-pronounces words, or “corrects” your English even when you’re speaking clearly. The message underneath is simple: you’re not quite standard here.

It can also be strategic. Some migrants notice they’re steered away from client-facing work, not because of skill, but because of how a company thinks clients prefer to be spoken to. That’s politics. It’s reputation management, using your identity as the risk.

Name bias is quieter still. A foreign name can trigger assumptions before you enter the room. Even automated systems can screen in ways that favour familiar-looking profiles. When hiring managers or internal recruiters have a stack of CVs, “local” experience can be treated as the only real experience.

And then there’s the meeting moment many Nigerians know too well: you share an idea, it floats in silence, then a colleague restates it five minutes later and everyone nods. If you’re new, it can make you doubt yourself. If it happens often, it’s a pattern.

Simple phrases can help you reclaim space without raising the temperature:

• On idea credit: “Thanks for building on that. To be clear, the suggestion I made was X, and I’d like to own the next steps.”
• On being interrupted: “I’ll finish my point, then I’m happy to take questions.”
• On client-facing doubts: “I’m confident presenting this. If there’s a concern, can we name it and agree what ‘good’ looks like?”

Short, calm, and said like it’s normal. Because it should be.

Microaggressions and stereotypes that chip away at trust

Microaggressions are the comments that arrive smiling. They’re often framed as curiosity or humour, so if you react, you risk being labelled “too sensitive”.

Common ones Nigerians report include:

• Scam jokes and “419” comments.
• “Where are you really from?” repeated after you’ve answered.
• Food comments, especially about smell in shared spaces.
• Touching hair, or acting as if it’s public property.
• Being asked to speak for a whole continent, as if Africa is one village meeting.

These moments matter because they don’t stay as one moment. They build a story about you in other people’s minds: foreign, risky, odd, not quite belonging. That story can affect trust, and trust affects promotion.

Choosing battles is part of survival. A useful rule is to decide what you’re protecting:

• Your dignity: correct it once, clearly.
• Your job and record: document patterns, keep receipts.
• Your energy: step back when it’s bait, and save your voice for the places it counts.

If you correct, keep it simple: “I don’t find that joke appropriate at work.” Then move on. If it repeats, write it down with date, time, who was present, and what impact it had on your work.

How power really moves at work, and why migrants get locked out

Many workplaces present themselves as fair: scorecards, frameworks, values on the wall. Then decisions happen in rooms you weren’t invited to, in chats you weren’t on, and in “quick coffees” that never get put in the diary.

That’s how power moves. It moves through informal networks.

In many offices, the real glue is small talk and shared context: school ties, sports chat, weekend plans, cultural references, private jokes. If you didn’t grow up there, you can feel like you’re always arriving one scene late.

This isn’t only social. It affects outcomes:

• The best projects go to people managers already feel safe with.
• Promotions go to people whose names come up in casual praise.
• Mistakes are forgiven faster when you’re seen as “one of us”.

For migrants, the “fit” test can turn into a silent exam you didn’t know you were sitting. You might do everything right and still be described as “not quite ready” for leadership, without clear examples.

Studies on migrant work experiences often underline how exclusion can be layered: nationality, race, and dynamics within migrant groups themselves. A 2024 open-access paper on intra-migrant workplace conflict highlights that pressure and conflict can also come from within migrant communities, not only from the host population (Springer article). That’s another reason the politics can feel exhausting: you’re managing more than one set of expectations.

Tokenism, visibility without authority, and the diversity photo trap

Tokenism is when you’re visible but not powerful. You’re invited to be seen, not invited to decide.

It can look like:

• Being asked to join a diversity panel, but not the strategy meeting.
• Being featured in a company video, but not put forward for a stretch role.
• Being praised for “bringing a different perspective”, then ignored when you challenge a bad plan.

It’s tempting to accept every invite because it feels like progress. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s a trap that uses your face to sell inclusion while keeping authority elsewhere.

A quick checklist helps you tell the difference between real opportunity and performative inclusion:

If you spot the trap, you don’t have to reject everything. You can set a boundary: “Happy to support, as long as it’s recognised in my goals and time is allocated.”

The “culture fit” wall, networking gaps, and promotion slowdowns

“Culture fit” often sounds harmless. In practice, it can mean “comfortable for us”. It’s a soft word used to hide hard preferences.

In reviews, it shows up as:

• “Great work, but you need more executive presence.”
• “You should be more visible.” (Without telling you where visibility matters.)
• “We’re not sure you’re ready for leadership.” (With no gaps named.)

Networking is harder when you don’t share the local script. Even humour can be a gate. People bond over what they assume everyone knows. When you don’t know, you stay quiet, and quiet gets mistaken for lack of confidence.

A 2025 study on African professionals in Australia describes layered exclusion and workplace dynamics that can limit access and progression, even for skilled migrants (Murdoch University hosted PDF). The country changes, the pattern can rhyme.

Practical steps that help without turning you into a full-time networker:

• Find one sponsor: someone senior who will say your name in rooms you’re not in.
• Join one cross-team project: the fastest way to widen your allies.
• Speak early in meetings: a short point in the first 10 minutes makes you harder to ignore later.
• Track wins weekly: a simple note of outputs, metrics, praise, and impact. Politics struggles when your record is clear.

Survival skills that protect your career, confidence, and visa choices

You shouldn’t have to become a politician to do your job. Yet when politics is present, having a simple playbook can keep you steady.

Think of it like walking on a wet pavement in winter. You don’t blame yourself for the ice. You wear better shoes, you watch your step, you pick a safer route.

This is not about paranoia. It’s about options.

Migration adds another layer: some people feel they can’t speak up because a job is tied to a visa, or because they’re sending money home and can’t risk a gap. Global bodies like IOM frame migrant integration as a two-way process that needs support and fair systems, not only migrant effort (IOM migrant integration). In real life, though, the power gap still lands on the worker’s shoulders.

So the goal is simple: reduce risk, increase support, and keep your future flexible.

What to do when something feels off, scripts, receipts, and allies

When a situation feels odd, trust that signal. Then get specific. Ask: What happened, how often, and what did it cost me? That turns stress into something you can act on.

Scripts for common moments:

• Idea stolen: “I’m glad this is moving forward. Since I proposed it, I’ll draft the plan and share by Friday.”
• Accent comment: “I’m happy to repeat that. If there’s a specific point that wasn’t clear, tell me which part.”
• Nigeria ‘joke’: “I don’t want jokes about fraud linked to my nationality. Let’s keep it professional.”
• Left off an email: “Please add me to the thread. I’m responsible for X, and I need the context.”

Then keep receipts. Nothing dramatic, just a private log:

• Date and time.
• What was said or done.
• Who was present.
• Impact on your work (missed info, lost credit, delayed delivery).

Allies matter more than you think. You don’t need a crowd. You need a few steady people:

• One fair manager (or a skip-level manager you can trust).
• One peer in another team who sees your work.
• One HR contact who explains process and policy.
• One mentor outside the company who can speak freely.

Managing visa pressure, stress, and the double workload of proving yourself

Many Nigerian migrants carry a double workload: the job itself, plus the quiet effort of proving you belong. Add visa pressure and it can feel like your chest is always slightly tight.

It helps to name the weight:

• Fear of rocking the boat.
• Family expectations and remittances.
• The urge to overperform so no one can question you.

Overperforming can win praise, but it can also set a trap. People get used to you doing the most, then call it “normal”. Your baseline becomes someone else’s stretch.

Try a calmer routine that protects your body and your future:

• Weekly reset: 30 minutes to review wins, risks, and next steps. Write it down.
• Small support circle: two or three people who get it, even if they’re not in your field.
• Use employee support: EAP, counselling, or staff networks, if they exist.
• Build an exit runway: keep skills current, save what you can, collect references, and keep a quiet list of roles you could move into.

Options reduce fear. Fear fuels silence. Silence feeds office politics.

Conclusion

If you’ve been dealing with office politics as a Nigerian migrant abroad, the problem is real, and it’s not a personal failure. The patterns are often quiet, but they shape careers: bias in how you’re heard, exclusion from informal power, and pressure made heavier by immigration realities.

Hold on to three anchors: name the politics, learn how power moves, and use a simple playbook with scripts, receipts, and allies. You don’t have to fight everyone. You just need to stay clear-eyed and keep your options open.

This week, choose one small change: speak early in one meeting, log your wins, or book a coffee with someone who’s fair. You deserve respect at work, not as a favour, but as a baseline.