Many Portuguese will tell you that there is no racism in Portugal. In part, that belief comes from the country’s complex history as a relatively homogeneous society, its self-image as a hospitable nation, and its pride in an "age of exploration" that brought people from Portugal into contact with cultures around the world.
But the reality is far more complicated. Racism in Portugal is often less overt than in the United States—where systemic racial divides are deeply tied to centuries of slavery, segregation, and codified discrimination—many immigrants, Black Portuguese, and members of the Roma (Cigano) community still face significant barriers and distrust.
Portugal’s colonial legacy has left both a cultural myth and a set of unacknowledged wounds. Large communities from former African colonies such as Angola, Mozambique, Cape Verde, Guinea-Bissau, and São Tomé and Príncipe live in Portugal, many in urban peripheries where socioeconomic disadvantages persist. These communities often experience disparities in employment, education, housing, and interactions with law enforcement. The lack of explicit race-based statistics in official data makes it harder to measure systemic inequality, but studies and first-hand accounts show that prejudice exists—sometimes in subtle, socially coded ways, and sometimes in more direct acts of discrimination. And, today's Portuguese fail to acknowledge their role in colonialism, slavery and its legacy.
The Roma, one of Europe’s most marginalized communities, face entrenched social exclusion in Portugal. Many live with limited access to stable housing, education, and healthcare, and face negative stereotypes in everyday interactions. Discrimination against Roma is often framed as cultural or behavioral bias rather than racial prejudice, allowing it to persist under the radar of the “we’re not racist” narrative.
Unlike in the United States, Portugal does not have a long history of legal segregation or the same racial categorization entrenched in everyday life. This can mean fewer explicit racial divisions in public discourse—but it can also make it harder to recognize and name racism when it occurs. In Portugal, discrimination is often tied to nationality, perceived foreignness, or socioeconomic status, rather than skin color alone. For example, an Eastern European immigrants might face bias for being “foreign” in much the same way as a Black African immigrant, even though the nature and severity of that bias can differ. And new flows of immigration from Southeast Asia have fed far right political parties that play of the us and them framing.
Over the past decade, there has been more open discussion about racism in Portuguese society. Activists, academics, and journalists are challenging the national self-image of racial harmony, pointing out structural inequalities and calling for better protections against discrimination. Legislation has improved, but enforcement and cultural change lag behind. Much of the issue is a lack of diversity and the legacy of the Estado Novo, that twisted history to glorify acts that were often not glorious.
For newcomers living in Portugal, understanding this complexity is important. While Portugal can feel welcoming, it’s worth asking: Who lived here before me? Whose stories are not being told? How can my presence here contribute to a more inclusive society? Awareness and engagement—supporting local organizations, listening to marginalized voices, and advocating for equality—can help ensure that the warm hospitality many experience in Portugal is a reality for all who call it home.