I am German. I know, incredibly exciting. I think in German, work in German structures, argue about German politics, pay taxes here. Third generation. Yet, one last name is enough, and it starts. Not maliciously, not overtly, rather this friendly, sticky categorization. German, but with an add-on. German, but with a follow-up question.
The perfidious thing is that it often sounds nice. With Italy and Spain, the holiday folder is immediately opened. "Red wine, sun, temperament." It is this consumable otherness. Like an accessory you briefly touch and then put back. Yes, that too is racism. Just one that feels like a compliment if you don't listen too closely.
I notice this constantly, especially where you don't want to cause friction. Authorities, insurance, doctor's office. You just want your stuff to go through. Then comes the Swabian small talk about your name. "Ha, that sounds like a holiday right away." "Do you also know Gian Franco from Eislingen? Such a nice guy." I often smile then, nod, make it easy. Not because it's okay, but because in that moment I have no desire to defend my Germanness along with the paperwork.
The next classic reliably arrives every two years as soon as a ball rolls somewhere. "Team Italy or Team Spain?" Germany is not an option. That is the strange thing. It is not the football question itself. It is this small, casual signal: To me, you are not simply normal German, you have to decide where you belong.
Now one could say: annoying, but not that bad. That is exactly where the hierarchy begins. Because not everyone is made 'other' in the same way. Germany distributes roles.
The Role as "Amigo" or as a Problem
For me, this is often the watered-down version. The nice other. The one with pasta vibes. The "Amigo", if you will. For those who are immediately put into the 'Muslim, Arab, Turkish' drawer here, it tips much faster. There, otherness is not folklore, but a problem. Not charming, but suspicious. You don't just notice this when someone openly freaks out. You notice it in the air of the room.
This extends into everyday office life, where supposedly everyone is enlightened and 'Diversity' is written on slides. I have experienced how, during shift planning between the years, it was said about a Turkish colleague: "She can do it, she's Muslim, she doesn't celebrate Christmas." The first presumption is already in this sentence: it didn't even occur to my colleague that as a Muslim, you can simply enjoy days off. She acted as if the rest of us all celebrated Christmas piously, Christianly, and with deep religious seriousness. I am an atheist. I naturally don't do anything Christian on holidays either. I just enjoy having time off.
The sentence was therefore not only arrogant, but also revealing. It betrays how naturally Christian influence is considered the norm here, even when the people who benefit from it have long since ceased to live religiously. At the same time, there are no nationwide statutory Muslim holidays in Germany. That is exactly what makes the statement even more insolent. My colleague doesn't really have a choice. For everyone else, there are automatically days off; for her, it is pretended as if she had no reason to want them anyway.
I also experienced a supervisor saying to a Muslim colleague in a meeting: "Stop with your Muslim attitude." Just like that. In front of everyone. She was fired later. Super. The process worked. But in that moment, no one said anything. That is still the reality. Not everyone claps at discrimination. Far too many just let it happen.
Collective Liability and Asymmetrical Tolerance
Add to this something that runs particularly deep in Germany: the idea that while one notes differences between nations, between Islam and Christianity one immediately negotiates a fundamental incompatibility. With Italians and Spaniards, it's about temperament. With Muslims, suddenly it's about "values", "integration", "our culture", "our society". As if that were no longer an attribution, but almost a question of civilization.
Of course, there is religious fundamentalism. That exists. But with Muslims, people are often much quicker to extrapolate from individual cases to an entire group. It is asked much more quickly whether "Islam" is even compatible with Germany. A crime, a radicalization, or a scandal is turned into a collective question much more quickly. Exactly this harshness is applied much more rarely to Christians, especially Catholics.
We don't say after every abuse scandal in the Catholic Church or after every Christian fundamentalist lapse that Catholics might fundamentally not be compatible with German society. No one demands that Catholics be culturally expelled because of such incidents. No one says that Christianity might simply not fit into a modern state under the rule of law. With Muslims, however, exactly this generalization is terrifyingly quick to appear. This shows how deep the distinction sits. One group has a problem within their group. The other is declared the problem themselves.
The Brutal Boundary: Anti-Black Racism
But the hierarchy doesn't stop there. There is another, particularly brutal line in Germany: anti-Black racism. Here it's no longer just a question of whether someone is charmingly exotic or culturally suspicious. It is about the fact that belonging must not become self-evident even after generations.
Angela Merkel once stated this astonishingly clearly: "My great-grandfather was Polish, I am fourth generation, naturally no one asks me if I still need to be integrated." Then came her actual point: For Black people, even in later generations, the first question is often still: "Where do you actually come from?" She spoke of a Black actor who said he didn't want to always just play criminals, but sometimes a mayor too. Merkel called that a justified wish.
That hits the point about the alleged interest quite accurately. If it really were just interest, one would have to have it with everyone. Then one would have to constantly ask white Germans about their great-grandfather. But that doesn't happen. The ones asked are those who look different. Not because people are so incredibly curious, but because they simply do not want to let certain bodies peacefully be German.
This hierarchy doesn't stay with small talk. It has consequences, right down to questions of violence and the state.
Oury Jalloh died in 2005 in a police cell in Dessau, bound, in a fire. The official version was for a long time that he set the fire himself. The case remains controversial to this day, and for years there has been a struggle for clarification. He is not the only name. Laye-Alama Condé. Achidi John. Mouhamed Dramé. These names alone show that this is not about a single slip-up, but about a pattern that Germany is very reluctant to name as a pattern.
Expats, Migrants, and the Class Society of Words
This is the point that cannot be argued away: Germany does not make everyone an 'Other' in the same way. It distributes roles. The Southern European tends to be aestheticized. The person read as Arab or Turkish is problematized. The Black person is marked, stereotyped, and often put into situations where the system becomes particularly harsh and cold.
Parallel to this runs another linguistic trick. While people here are framed as "guest workers", "migrants", or even "economic refugees", white Europeans abroad are gladly called "expats". The German in Barcelona is suddenly not a migrant, but international. The Brit in Singapore is an "expat", the Senegalese in Germany is a "migrant". That is no coincidence, but class and race politics in one word.
The excuse usually goes something like this: Italians and Spaniards have "earned" their place, they came as guest workers, worked, built things up, adapted, and have simply been here a long time. Turkish, Arab, or other groups are then implicitly constructed as the later, more difficult, less deserving Others. Thus, groups are played off against each other. And this logic is not without consequences. It can even contribute to some people with their own migration history trying to elevate themselves above other groups or orienting themselves politically to the right. At the same time, this is not a blanket "guest worker generation," but varies greatly depending on origin, milieu, and social situation; recent studies only show that there is also support for the AfD among people with a migration background, even if not evenly distributed.
The Burden of Belonging
In my own family, by the way, you can see how destructive this ambivalence is. Many simply say at some point: "Yes, I am Italian." Or: "I am Spanish." Not necessarily because that is the whole truth of their biography, but because it is easier. Because you don't want to be considered difficult. Because you don't feel like having the whole conversation every time. Everyone must decide that for themselves. I just can't honestly claim it for myself. Yes, I know the languages, but I only taught myself how to read and write later on. With brothers and cousins, it is partly different. A part of this playing along also comes from frustration: having to apply for citizenship even though you were born and raised here. As if belonging were something you apply for.
Sometimes the irony is truly bitter. I come from Italy, Germany, Spain. From three European countries, then, that shaped, invented, escalated, or dragged fascism into the seventies in their own ways. Nevertheless, Southern Europe is today often softly drawn as a charming deviation. "Red wine, sun, temperament." While other origins in Germany are immediately considered a problem zone. Perhaps that is exactly the core: Some otherness remains within the familiar because it is white and European. Others do not.
That is the hierarchy of origin. Not simply more or less racism, but different varieties of it, with different consequences.
Therefore, it is not enough to be nice and claim interest. It is also not enough to print "Diversity". The real question is who is allowed to simply be German. Without a package insert. Without an exam. Without suspicion. And who is not.
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