Why workpalce mental health must include lived experience, not just policies.
Mental health support isn’t a one-size-fits-all. Here’s how to recognise and reduce the invisible load many employees carry every day.
What We Don’t See Still Hurts
Workplace mental health is finally getting the attention it deserves. But not all experiences of stress, burnout, or emotional strain are the same – especially for those carrying an invisible load.
For many underrepresented employees, mental health at work isn’t just about deadlines, workloads or performance pressure. It’s about navigating daily experiences of exclusion, microaggressions, and being the “only one” in the room. The moments may often be subtle – but over time, they add up. And they take a toll.
We talk about creating inclusive workplaces. We talk about supporting employee wellbeing. But too often, these conversations happen in silos. Inclusion and mental health are still treated as separate priorities – when in reality, they’re deeply connected.
If you want to build a truly psychologically safe and equitable organisation, you need to understand the invisible barriers that affect the mental health of underrepresented employees.
Reading through this article, you will understand:
- How identity and wellbeing intersect at work
- The emotional labour many carry in predominantly white or male spaces
- Why traditional mental health support often misses the mark for minority groups
- What leaders, HR and DEI teams can do to create real change
Because the burden isn’t shared equally – but the responsibility to chnage things should be.
Identity and Mental Health Are Deeply Interwined
Mental health isn’t experienced in a vacuum. It’s shaped by culture, environment, and – crucially – identity.
In Australian workplaces, that identity might mean being the only First Nations employee in a team. It might also mean being a culturally and linguistically diverse (CALD) worker, navigating conversations and systems that don’t reflect your background or lived experience. Or it could mean being a queer employee in a workplace where “fitting in” often defaults to heteronormative assumptions.
Each of these identities carry what psychologists call “minority stress”: the chronic pressure of navigating a workplace where you may be different, visible, and expected to self-monitor at all times.
Underrepresented employes – including First Nations peoples, culturally and linguistically diverse workers, and those from the LGBTQIA+ community – often face barriers to mental health support.
For some, it’s the feeling that mainstream services weren’t built with them in mind. For others, it’s the subtle but exhausting task of code-switching or being left out of informal conversations. Even accessing help can be a challenge. For example, only 12% of government-funded mental health websites in Australia offer information in languages other than English.
And then there’s stigma. In many communities, mental health is still treated as something to be kept quiet. Something that signals weakness. Something that might cost you credibility or connection. So people stay silent – not because they’re coping, but because they’ve learned it’s safer that way.
But the invisible strain doesn’t just stay inside. It shows up in performance, in engagement, in energy. And the more someone feels like they have to ‘edit’ themselves just to get through the day, the more it drains their mental health.
What it Takes to Show Up when You Stand Out
When you constantly have to filter how you speak, dress, or react – just to fit in – it’s more than uncomfortable. It. Is. Exhausting.
And for many underrepresented employees, this filtering happens all day, every day.
They’re not just thinking about the work. They’re managing how they’re perceived. Checking that a comment won’t confirm a stereotype. Deciding if today is a “safe” day to bring their full self to the team meeting. Wondering whether that joke at lunchtime was harmless or a warning sign. It’s all part of what’s called emotional labour – and it’s rarely recognised, let alone supported.
For example:
A woman of colour in a male-dominated tech team prepares for a client meeting. She’s not just rehearsing the project details – she’s anticipating how to present authority without being seen as aggressive. She’s planning her tone, her word choice, and even how much eye contact to make.
All of that is emotional labour. And it’s being done and felt even before the meeting starts.
Or, consider a First Nations employee expected to weigh in during National Aboriginal and Islanders Day Observance Committee (NAIDOC) Week planning.
The assumption? They’ll represent the entire culture.
The reality? They may feel conflicted, exposed, or tokenised – but they also struggle to express themselves or say no. Because saying no might be misunderstood.
This kind of labour – navigating identity dynamics on top of job performance – is mentally and emotionally taxing. And because it often goes unseen, the pressure can quietly compound over time.
The true cost:
- Energy and focus, especially in high-stakes or group settings
- Confidence to speak up, question, or challenge decisions
- A sense of authenticity – feeling known, not just present
- Long-term retention: because when culture feels like work, people eventually walk
Too often, workplaces value “cultural fit” without examining the culture people are being asked to fit into.
That’s not inclusion. It’s assimilation.
And it leaves many employees quietly wondering:
| What does it really cost to show up every day – as yourself – in a place that still expects you to blend in?
Microagrressions, Exclusion and the Daily Toll
Not every harm at work comes with raised voices or bold gestures.
Sometimes, it’s a joke that lands wrong but no one corrects.
Sometimes, it’s being consistently talked over in meetings.
Sometimes, it’s being left off the invite list – or always having to educate others on “diversity things”.
These are microaggressions: subtle, often unintentional slights or dismissals based on someone’s identity. And while each moment might seem small, their impact over time is anything but.
Here are just a few examples of how microaggressions show up in everyday conversations:
“You speak English so well!”
“You’re so articulate – for someone your age.”
“I don’t see colour – I just see people.”
“Let’s not get political in this meeting.” (when a staff member discusses a lived experience)
None of these comments are inherently violent. But when heard repeatedly, they reinforce a message: You’re not really one of us. And that message doesn’t just bruise, it isolates.
Employees on the receiving end of these, sometimes, daily slights often learn to brace themselves before walking into a room. To anticipate discomfort. To spend extra energy managing the environment instead of focussing on their work.
That’s not resilience. Its survival.
And exclusion is not limited to just words that are spoken. It also shows up in:
- Being left out of key projects or social gatherings
- Not being offered the same mentorship or challenging, visibility-building opportunities
- Feeling invisible during celebrations, or hyper-visible during cultural “moments”
What’s most harmful about exclusion is that it can be so easy to deny. It’s soft around the edges. You can’t always point to a policy or a moment and say: Here’s where I was made to feel like I didn’t belong.
But over time, the result is loud:
- Disengagement
- Mental and emotional withdrawal
- High turnover, especially among early-career professionals from marginalised backgrounds.
When people feel excluded:
- they don’t speak up
- they don’t innovate
- they don’t stay.
And no wellbeing strategy can be successful if the work culture keeps people in quiet defence mode.
What Inclusive Mental Health Support Actually Looks Like to avoid
Mental health support is only effective when people feel safe enough to use it.
Too often, organisations tick the box with an Employee Assistance Programme (EAP) and assume that’s enough. But for many underrepresented employees, accessing that support isn’t so simple.
Maybe they’ve had past experiences where “confidential” didn’t feel confidential.
Maybe the counsellor didn’t understand their cultural background, their family expectations, or the kind of workplace pressure they’re under.
Maybe they just don’t want to explain racism, homophobia, or class anxiety before they can even start getting help.
Inclusive support means recognissong these barriers – and designing for them.
Here’s what that looks like in practice:
Culturally competent care: Mental health professionals who understand, or are trained in, the unique stressors tied to identity – whether that’s racial trauma, intergenerational pressure, or navigating bias at work. Ideally, employees should have the option to choose a practitioner who shares or understands their lived experience.
Peer support and affinity spaces: Sometimes, the most powerful support isn’t formal. It’s a space to exhale amongst people who just get it. Peer groups – whether organised by culture, gender, or shared experience – can reduce isolation and offer an informal circuit-breaker when things get heavy.
Normalising mental health conversations: Train those in positions of power and with the ability to influence other employees to talk about mental health. Not just during an “R U OK? Day”, but regularly and openly. This signals that vulnerability won’t be punished. When a team hears their manager say, “I’ve had days when I wasn’t okay”, it shifts what’s considered acceptable.
Making support part of the culture – not just the crisis plan: Too often, support only kicks in after an employee is burnt out, breaking down, or leaving. Inclusive mental health care means making wellbeing an intrinsic part of policies, team rhythms, onboarding, and how managers lead – so no one has to hit a breaking point before help appears.
Because when people feel safe being seen, they’re far more likely to seek support before they’re overwhelmed.
What Leaders and Businesses Can Do Differently
The invisible load isn’t something you can measure in KPIs. But it shows up – loudly – in turnover, burnout and disengagement.
And while the burden often falls on individuals, the responsibility for change sits squarely with organisations.
So, beyond good intentions, what can leaders, HR and DEI teams do?
Start by listening – genuinely
Move past the survey and into real, ongoing conversations. Not just with “safe” voices, but with employees whose experiences may challenge the dominant narrative. Create multiple, accessible channels for feedback, and act on what you hear.
Rethink your policies; make them inclusive
Who do your policies protect? Who do they exclude? Flexible work, bereavement leave, cultural calendar recognition aren’t perks. Rather think of them as signals of whose lives are valued. Involve underrepresented voices in shaping policy, not just reviewing it after the fact.
Make inclusion part of how you lead
While it’s important to train leaders on compliance, they also need training on empathy, bias awareness, and how to create psychologically safe teams. If someone’s managing people, they’re automatically managing mental health – whether they realise it or not.
Audit your systems for hidden inequities
Are the same employees being chosen for growth opportunities or career-building assignments? Are promotion panels diverse? Are exit interviews bringing up cultural safety concerns?
Systems shape experience. Review them as rigorously as you would any business process.
Don’t wait for culture to fix itself – model it
Culture isn’t what’s written on your values wall. It’s what people feel safe saying (or not saying) in a team meeting. It’s how often those in positions of leadership and responsibility say “I don’t know”, or “Thank you for sharing that”. Inclusion is built in the micro-moments.
Because when we reduce the hidden cost of showing up, we increase the chance that people will stay, grow, and thrive – exactly as they are.
You Can’t Fix What You Don’t Acknowledge
If someone tells you they feel invisible at work, believe them.
If someone tells you they feel exhausted from being “the only one” in the room, listen.
Because the invisible load isn’t just about identity – it’s about impact. And ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. On the contrary, it becomes almost impossible for people to stay.
This work – building truly inclusive, mentally healthy workplaces – isn’t quick, and it’s definitely not comfortable. It asks for humility. It asks for curiosity. And most of all, it asks for consistency.
But here’s what’s also true: it makes your workplace stronger. More creative. More trustworthy. More human.
So start the conversations. Listen. Keep them going.
Challenge what’s “normal”.
Reevaluate what “safe” means.
Make space where silence used to be.
Because when people feel safe being seen, they don’t just survive at work – they lead, they thrive, and they help others rise too.