There are some sentences that stay with you long after a conversation has ended.

“I wish I could just hide it.”

Not hide from the world. Not disappear. Simply hide the colour of your skin, your name, your faith or your heritage—just long enough to feel safe walking down the street, attending a tenant meeting or answering the door.

The above words were spoken by a resident I know, lets call him “Mr H” and he wasn’t describing another country. He came to Britain from Bangladesh when he was five years old. Britain is the only home he has ever truly known. Yet today, after decades of building a life here, he finds himself wondering whether being visibly different has become something he needs to manage rather than celebrate.