The Donald Trump handshake snub was painfully familiar

When I saw the footage of Donald Trump failing to shake Angela Merkel's hand, my stomach lurched. Trump actively avoided eye contact with the Chancellor of Germany while reporters and Merkel herself requested a handshake.

I scrolled through the article looking for an explanation, but was disappointed. Apparently the White House photo op was awkward for the simple fact that, despite significant precedent, Trump didn't see fit to shake this particular world leader's hand.

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I shrugged it off as another example of Trump's man-baby behaviour, an eye-roll inducing event that should just be ignored and chalked up to his special brand of petulance. Yet days later, I couldn't help but notice that the snub still smarted. My thoughts would catch on the uncomfortable clip like a hangnail rubbing against thick clothing. The feeling was sharp and snapped me out of whatever task was at hand. It was as if Trump had refused to shake my hand and I was still burning with shame and rage.

Yet after hearing Sean Spicer's excuse for Trump's (not so) micro-aggression, I realised why the feeling was so raw – this kind of slight had happened to my friends and me multiple times. Not so much the handshake situation (though many of my female friends in the corporate sector have experienced this kind of overt snub), but the lack of eye contact.

If this hasn't happened to you before, imagine walking into a room of your peers and seniors, sitting down then finding that for the next hour and a half, you are completely and utterly invisible. It's a surreal sensation. Now add to this mix being interrupted mid-sentence, not being invited to subsequent discussions about your project, and getting cut out of email chains then criticised for not responding to aforementioned email chains.

I wish I could tell you this is emblematic of one toxic workplace, a bad apple in the wider working world. However, the more women - especially women of colour - I talk to, the more common the experience seems to be. Lack of eye contact, relaying of information to male colleagues and not female, and being talked over are sadly common occurrences, whether you're in advertising, architecture or the air force. Exclusion is as pervasive and often just as demoralising as overt sexism.

That's why snubs of female leaders sting so much. It is a difficult reminder that we don't live in a meritocracy, that even if you hold the top position, you're not guaranteed to get the same respect that your male counterpart might.

So what to do with this frustration? Give up? Retweet a Merkel-based meme? After the meeting where I was apparently invisible, I told two of the five men who had been in the room how rubbish it felt to have had no eye contact the whole time. My peer hadn't noticed, but acknowledged that must feel strange. I assumed he'd missed my point. However, in a follow-up meeting, armed with the knowledge of this exclusion, the same peer called out the behaviour as he saw it happening, creating an environment where it was impossible for me to be treated as lesser than. The other colleague I told was much more senior and surprised me by apologising. He had no idea he'd been doing it and seemed genuinely embarrassed by the oversight.

Now I'm not sure how well this same technique would work with the likes of the Angry Cheeto, but I'd like to think most men have blind spots that become less blind when we shine lights onto them. We may not be able to influence the likes of Trump, but we are able to influence the culture of our workplaces, one conversation at a time.

Grace De Morgan is a freelance writer.