“She’s just a maid”: What everyday remarks reveal about xenophobia in Singapore

When was the last time you heard someone say something nasty about foreigners?

Just a few weeks ago, I had coffee with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. The conversation drifted to her travels, and she grew visibly irritated recalling how both locals and tourists had mistaken her for someone from China. “I don’t want to be known as that kind of Chinese person,” she said, alluding to the misguided stereotype of certain groups of women who worked at questionable massage parlours. Her disdain was unmistakable.

This jarring interaction brought back an old memory of math tuition at a secondary school friend’s home. When her helper had gently reminded her to tidy up, she scoffed and said, “Aiyah, who cares. She’s just a maid.” Twenty years on, that sentence still bothers me.

Such remarks, unfortunately, are not uncommon. I’ve seen Singaporeans frown when foreign workers board buses, or wince at domestic helpers chatting in groups on their only day off. But who exactly are we scorning?

As of December 2024, Singapore is home to over 1.57 million migrant workers, making up nearly 40 per cent of the workforce. More than outsiders, they’ve long become part of the fabric that makes up Singapore. Yet too often, we look past them. Or worse, look with contempt.

Left unchecked, this resentment can turn cruel. In July 2025, suspended police officer Kevin Chelvam was sentenced to 10 years for his role in the fatal abuse of 24-year-old Myanmar domestic worker Piang Ngaih Don. Starved and assaulted, she weighed just 24kg when she died.

While the outcry online was fast and furious, the truth is that migrant workers remain largely invisible beyond their labour.

In January, Senior Minister Lee Hsien Loong reiterated their importance to Singapore’s future, even as he warned against rising nativism. But state recognition doesn’t guarantee societal respect.

Hostility often stems from what we don’t understand: different languages, habits or perceived status. These workers live with homesickness, isolation and immense pressure, often earning a few hundred dollars a month to support families far away.

Some may speak more loudly. Some may laugh harder. Others gather in parks and void decks because those are the few places where they feel at ease. If that truly bothers us, maybe it’s time to ask: Is the problem really them or is it us?