"I’m not quite sure how my mother did it, but when I was growing up in the ‘90s, my home was filled with picture books featuring characters who looked like me and toys that reflected my melanated skin. These items weren’t as readily available in retailers like Target, Walmart, or Barnes & Noble as they are now, so my mom’s ability to track them down felt like magic. I’m grateful she worked so hard to build a rich collection of melanated joy in our home because I certainly wasn’t going to see myself represented on the shelves of my favorite stores. Since this was my normal, I didn’t realize how deeply it affected me to see mostly white representation in toys and books. I didn’t recognize that I was internalizing a loud, unspoken message from society: Black stories, Black characters, and Black culture didn’t matter. In other words, I didn’t matter.
The shelves of major stores weren’t the only way I received that message. I received it when my teachers glossed over Black history, when my favorite TV shows rarely featured Black characters, and when I flipped through my favorite teen magazines, only to see white girl after white girl on the pages. I never imagined a day when this wouldn’t be my reality, but the racial reckoning of 2020—and the DEI initiatives within mainstream corporations that followed—proved my younger self wrong, allowing me to raise my daughters in a world where they see themselves represented in mainstream media and retail in ways I could have only dreamed of. Or so I thought. The recent rollback of DEI initiatives across the country may bring that realized dream to an abrupt halt.
DEI isn’t new—and it was never meant just for Black Americans
DEI, which stands for Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion, is nothing new. According to TIME, DEI efforts trace back to the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which outlawed discrimination based on race, religion, sex, color, and national origin. The following year, President Lyndon B. Johnson signed an executive order requiring the federal government to “take affirmative action to ensure applicants are employed and employees are treated during employment, without regard to their race, color, creed, or national origin.” In other words, President Johnson sought to ensure that marginalized groups—long denied employment opportunities due to legal discrimination—were actively included in the workforce.
While many assume this legislation was passed solely for Black Americans, it benefited all marginalized identities, including non-Black People of Color, members of the LGBTQ+ community, disabled individuals, veterans, individuals practicing religions outside of Christianity, and white women. After centuries of legal discrimination, it was not only necessary to end exclusion but also to take steps toward closing the gaps it had created.
DEI has always been a controversial topic, whether in 1964 or 2024. Some misunderstand it, while others choose to believe DEI efforts exist to give an unfair advantage to people who “didn’t earn it.” In reality, DEI has only ever existed to ensure that highly qualified individuals from marginalized communities no longer face the discriminatory barriers that have historically excluded them—from the workplace to healthcare systems, educational institutions, and, more recently, mainstream representation.
What many fail to recognize is that making discrimination unlawful didn’t make it disappear. Discrimination evolves, finding new, often legal ways to persist. Additionally, when a group has been marginalized for decades—centuries even—the effects don’t vanish overnight. The structures and biases established long ago continue unless actively disrupted. DEI programs attempt to address these lingering disparities by ensuring equitable access and opportunities for those who were long denied them.
What we gained through DEI—and what we stand to lose
DEI programs surged over the past five years in response to the murder of George Floyd, leading not only to increased efforts toward equity but also heightened controversy and division. Previously, DEI was largely confined to federal, corporate, and educational spaces, but the racial reckoning of 2020 pushed it into the mainstream. Major corporations expanded their hiring practices to ensure that more marginalized identities were not only given opportunities but also retained in the roles they deserved.
Beyond hiring, other initiatives emerged, such as featuring more Black, minority, LGBTQ+, and women-owned businesses in major retailers. Industries also prioritized diverse representation in TV and film—especially on streaming platforms like Netflix—amplified diverse voices in publishing and media, and expanded shade ranges in popular beauty brands to be more inclusive.
“In reality, DEI has only ever existed to ensure that highly qualified individuals from marginalized communities no longer face the discriminatory barriers that have historically excluded them.”
These much-needed and long-overdue DEI efforts have given those of us in marginalized communities easier access to programming, products, and services that truly represent us—while also providing the creators of those offerings, such as BIPOC founders, the platform and visibility they always deserved but were previously denied due to systemic barriers.
Finally, I could walk into Target and find haircare products designed for my textured hair and skincare that met the unique needs of my melanated skin. Finally, I could browse the toy aisle and choose from a variety of Black and Brown dolls to surprise my daughters with on Christmas morning. Finally, I could scroll through Netflix and see more movies and shows that reflected my culture. And just as importantly, I could see every marginalized community represented—allowing me to learn from, support, and celebrate them as well.
However, the rapid rise of DEI initiatives was met with an equally swift backlash. Just as meaningful progress was taking shape, it was met with resistance—fueled by misinformation and false accusations about DEI’s purpose—thrusting the controversy into the heart of our political and cultural climate. This backlash has effectively brought the era of rapid DEI expansion to an abrupt halt, resulting in job losses, hiring and partnership freezes, and heartbreak among marginalized communities as decades of progress are erased with the flick of a pen.
Why the dismantling of DEI cuts so deep
If you’ve scrolled through social media lately, you’ve likely seen the waves of devastation in response to the dismantling of DEI initiatives across industries. For many of us—myself included—it feels like a betrayal, as if the commitments society made to us were suddenly abandoned without explanation, empathy, or any plan to repair the harm. The truth is, DEI isn’t ending to restore so-called merit-based hiring, as some claim. It’s ending because too many people believe that opportunities given to marginalized communities are inherently unearned—simply because we are marginalized.
For me, it confirms a familiar, aching feeling I’ve carried since childhood, growing up in a world that didn’t reflect me: We don’t matter. And it hurts. It hurts when society repeatedly tells you that you don’t matter. But it hurts even more when, for a fleeting moment, you believed you did—only to realize it was never meant to last.
“It hurts when society repeatedly tells you that you don’t matter. But it hurts even more when, for a fleeting moment, you believed you did—only to realize it was never meant to last.”
On a more practical level, I am both furious and fearful about what the removal of DEI means for the long-awaited accessibility of Black-owned brands in the stores I frequent most. I’m devastated not only for the founders of these incredible brands and what this shift could mean for the future of their businesses, but also for the heartbreak of watching something my younger self longed for slowly disappear. Every time I saw a Black-owned brand on Target’s shelves, with a smiling founder’s photo next to a Black Beyond Measure sign, I felt my inner child heal—beaming with joy at the representation she never had. To think that it could all be taken away just as quickly as it arrived makes it feel like it was always too good to be true—like it has been a mistake all along.
How you can use your voice to fight back against this betrayal
Remember, every marginalized identity is impacted by the dismantling of DEI initiatives, not just Black Americans. And whether or not you feel directly affected, if you believe in equity and inclusion, you have a crucial role to play in fighting back. Your voice matters.
With so much noise online about how to protest and advocate, it can feel overwhelming to figure out what’s feasible and effective. But no one should bear this fight alone. Small, consistent actions—when multiplied—create real, lasting change, even if we don’t see it right away. If you’re looking for ways to push back against the rollback of DEI, here are some meaningful steps you can take:
- Use your voice. Write to local representatives, corporate leaders, and workplace decision-makers, urging them to continue prioritizing DEI.
- Support marginalized businesses. Continue investing in Black-owned, POC-owned, and LGBTQ+-owned brands within major retailers to help keep them on the shelves.
- Shift your spending power. When possible, choose small, local businesses for everyday necessities instead of retailers that are walking back DEI commitments.
- Engage in your community. Support marginalized communities through nonprofit volunteering, serving on boards, and attending town meetings.
- Leverage your influence. If you hold a position of power in your workplace or own a business, advocate to keep DEI initiatives in place.
- Amplify marginalized voices. Use your platform—no matter how big or small—to share the stories of those directly affected by the dismantling of DEI.
Every action counts. Keep showing up, keep speaking out, and keep pushing for the future we all deserve.
This isn’t the end—it’s a call to keep fighting
One of the first things I thought about when the DEI rollbacks began was how I would explain this to my beautiful daughters. Just as my mother taught me to be proud of my rich melanin and the resilient history that brought us thus far, I have instilled that same pride in my girls. At just 8 and 6 years old, they already grasp the injustices our community has faced for generations, the progress we’ve made, and the distance we still have to go. The difference is, they witnessed the progress that I never believed possible at their age. They share my joy when we discover new Black-owned brands in major retailers. They love looking for books with characters that look like them, and I love that it doesn’t have to feel like a treasure hunt as it did when I was little. They love pointing out new dolls and toys that represent them, and I love seeing their faces light up as they feel seen in their golden brown complexion and plaited textured hair. I don’t want this world to disappear from them. I refuse to let my daughters inherit the same invisibility I felt as a child.
Some days, the rollback of progress feels overwhelming. But when I look at my daughters, I know we can’t afford to lose hope. If civil rights leaders and activists before us had given up, we wouldn’t be here today. We wouldn’t be talking about mainstream representation or workplace protections for marginalized communities. We’re able to have this conversation today because past activists dared to speak out about the necessity of civil rights—and, more importantly, turned their words into action. We must do the same. If we don’t, we’re not just giving up on ourselves—we’re giving up on every generation to come.
Caroline Sumlin, Contributing Writer
Caroline Sumlin is a writer, author, and content creator specializing in topics ranging from self-worth, lifestyle, wellness, motherhood, education, society, and culture. Caroline received her Bachelor of Arts degree in Journalism from Howard University in Washington, DC. Driven by her passion for freedom and justice, Caroline crafts articles that urge readers to reflect more deeply and critically about themselves, their lives, and the world around them.