4. Results—Tales of Futures Without Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) in Higher Education
Each of the following three scenarios represents futures that include DEI bans in higher education. The first scenario describes possible impacts of a DEI ban on a Historically White Institution (HWI) in a southern conservative state. The fictional story depicting this scenario revolves around Ruth Jenkins, a 32-year-old DEI Coordinator working at a HWI. The second scenario describes possible impacts of a federal DEI ban on a HWI in a liberal northern state where DEI has not been banned. The fictional story depicting this scenario revolves around Angela Turner, a 34-year-old Chief Diversity Officer at a small liberal arts college. The third and final scenario describes the possible impact of a DEI ban on a historically Black community college situated within a southern conservative state. The fictional story depicting this scenario revolves around Dr. Renetta Greene, a 31-year-old director of student life at one of the oldest Historically Black Colleges and Universities located in the South.
4.1. Future Scenario #1: The Elimination of DEI in Conservative States
Under Trump’s directives, DEI policies face further dismantling at the federal level. Executive orders and judicial appointments favor restrictions on race-conscious admissions, federal funding for DEI offices, and protections for marginalized groups. Colleges and universities are pressured to comply with these changes, especially in conservative states. Conservative states and institutions align with federal restrictions, either cutting or rebranding their DEI offices and staff, as well as banning approaches, funding, and programming explicitly referring to race and ethnicity.
4.2. Short Story #1: Covert Operations
It was not a surprise. They all knew it was coming. For weeks, the Office of Diversity at Mulligan State had been teetering on the precipice of the state legislative vote to ban DEI. No one had really expected things to go differently, but it was now that DEI was against the law that reality began to sink in.
Change was no longer coming. It was here.
As soon as 32-year-old Ruth Jenkins steps onto the campus of Mulligan University, she can feel eyes on her. Some of the faces she passes hold pity or smugness, while most seem curious. Perhaps they are wondering what an older Black woman who champions diversity, equity, and inclusion is thinking now that everything she stands for has been banned. Ruth walks on, with her head high, gripping her laptop bag as tightly as the hope she clings to that the change won’t be immediate. Perhaps they still have a few weeks to come up with a strategy for how to continue the work she has been committed to since she graduated from college.
But all of Ruth’s optimism evaporates when she reaches the top of the hill, where the old student support center stands. The large “M” in the “Multicultural Student Services” sign is dangling on a pole handled by one of the maintenance staff. Beneath him, maintenance staff push the large ‘Black Lives Matter’ sign in a large trash wheelbarrow like it is garbage.
Unexpected anger floods Ruth as she surges forward without even thinking. “They just voted!”
The maintenance worker with the removal pole squints down from his perch on the ladder and gives a shrug. “We got the call to take everything down this morning. Just doing our job, Ma’am.”
What else is being dismantled? Ruth rushes past the ladder and through the front door to get to her office. When she reaches the front waiting area of what was formerly Multicultural Student Services, she sees that most of her staff is gathered near the coffee pot. At least that is still there, and from the looks of things, it is being used.
“Ruth!” her assistant, Tiana, cries out. “They fired Jamal!”
Ruth stops in her tracks, at the threshold of the Center’s front door, as Tiana’s words strike her like a punch to the gut. It does not make sense. Even with the legislation, it is hard to understand why they would, Jamal Davis, the Chief Diversity Officer, less than a day after the legislative vote. He only just won a university service award for outstanding service. Surely they could find another position he was suited for.
Holy shit!
As if reading her mind, Tiana blurts out “are we going to lose our jobs?”
Someone behind Ruth clears his throat, and they all turn. It is Provost Thompson. He looks older than usual, with a grim expression and a crease in his brow.
“Actually, that’s why I’m here.”
~~~*~~~
Ruth now works in the Office of Student Retention with a third of the staff she had previously. She tries not to think too hard about it. She does not really have time to dwell on the past right now, anyway—she has a lot more students to take care of, and that is saying something because she was severely understaffed and overworked even before the DEI ban. Now, she does not even have time to take a real lunch break.
In the six months since her state banned DEI, Ruth’s job title has changed from Coordinator of Multicultural Affairs to Coordinator of Student Retention Services. While she is grateful to still have a job, the nature of her job change feels dishonest because the types of students she works with have not changed; however, because she cannot talk about DEI in any shape or form, the work she has to do is much harder.
On top of dealing with typical financial crises and food and housing insecurity, the students Ruth assists are now experiencing unprecedented levels of bias and harassment from both their peers and university faculty. Stress, anxiety, isolation, and poor performance are at an all-time high. Essentially, the campus climate at Mulligan right now is in the gutter.
And not just for students of color.
The lack of funding and support towards DEI and DEI initiatives means that programs and resources that were formerly relegated to students from lower socioeconomic backgrounds, veterans, and students with cognitive differences have been cut, and now these students receive less support, too.
Many of the strategies and resources that Ruth formally relied on to address some of these issues are now illegal. She and her too-small team of staff have to choose their words and approaches carefully since they have been warned on more than one occasion that they are being monitored for compliance. In short, Ruth is still carrying out DEI work, without the benefit of the funding and tools she had before the legislative ban.
The end result is that the DEI ban has enabled toxic behavior that has infected the campus environment for everyone. Before, there were training sessions and consequences for people who were disrespectful and violated the most basic social mores. Now, people can say and do the most offensive things with little more than a slap on the wrist—and sometimes not even that—so long as it is not illegal. Supposedly, it is all protected under free speech and the blanket excuse of “inadvertent and unintentional offense,” but the end result is the same—more people feel free to be hurtful and careless in their speech and treatment of others, especially those in the minority.
Now that Ruth’s job requires tracking of retention, the data confirms her worst fears. Retention rates for marginalized students—particularly Black, Hispanic, LGBTQ+, and first-generation students—are abysmal. Exit interviews reveal a recurring theme: students feel isolated, unsupported, and unsafe.
~~~*~~~
In her first senior leadership meeting, President Horton, an older White man with a booming voice, emphasizes the need to improve retention and foster a better campus environment without “going woke” and being divisive. He doesn’t look at Ruth directly when he says it, but everyone else does. Either way, she hears what President Horton is not saying: “Focus on student success, and don’t make it political.”
It takes all of Ruth’s strength not to roll her eyes. When it comes to supporting students and their success, there are always choices about which approaches are best for different types of students in different circumstances, and how resources should be allocated to which students in ways that maximize outcomes for not only as many students as possible, but those who need it the most. In short, the work of supporting student success with a limited budget is inherently political. Still, Ruth manages to bite her tongue (and keep her job). Instead of getting on a soapbox and lecturing the president about things he probably already knows and chooses to ignore, she ruminates on the platitude about picking your battles and living to fight another day.
~~~*~~~
Life at Mulligan does not return to normal, but it becomes somewhat familiar as Ruth and her staff develop a system. Drawing lessons from civil rights movements in the United States and South Africa, she recognized the value of an underground network of allies. They have a list of faculty, staff, and administrators who understand the value of DEI and have expressed a desire to support marginalized students. It takes a few months, but the newly named Office of Student Retention Services also has a roster of upper-class ‘peer mentors’, faculty ‘lead advisors’, and administrative ‘career mentors’ who provide academic, social, and career support to the students Ruth and her staff identify as in need of support.
The Office is also a meeting hub. It is becoming known as a place where engaged mentors and advisors can go for resources, advice, and support in this new socio-political landscape in which any sign of empathy or care about DEI marks one as a political troublemaker. Ruth creates several ‘retention task force’ groups that target different types of needs, albeit devoid of those outlawed DEI words that the state hates. The Office of Retention task force identifies approaches, resources, and cost-sharing methods to support student needs, such as emergency scholarships, ad hoc pantries, and post-bias incident support.
It is not ideal, but there is a safety net in place now, and students are starting to catch on. In spite of the DEI ban, in spite of the rhetoric around free speech and dismantling woke ideology, there are still people at Mulligan who are standing up to hate and want to provide support to those most excluded and targeted. Students now know that there are identified allies inside and outside of the classroom who see them and have their best interests in mind.
~~~*~~~
One of the first initiatives Ruth organizes is a peer mentor program. She labels it a “student success initiative” designed to help first-year students navigate college life. Behind the scenes, though, Ruth and her staff thoughtfully pair marginalized students with mentors who shared their backgrounds and experiences. They also work with the counseling center to expand mental health resources. Ruth finds an important ally in the Director of the Counselor Center, Deborah Frazier. They collaborate to launch a new “wellness initiative” for all students that utilizes a culturally responsive framework to support unique challenges connected to student experiences, which just so happen to include marginalization.
~~~*~~~
One afternoon, a student named Kerry requests a meeting with Ruth. Before the meeting, Ruth reviews her file and discovers that Kerry is a STEM sophomore who started off strong with exceptional grades and testing scores, but is on the verge of dropping into academic probation. A first-generation Black student, Kerry seems to be struggling to find her place at Mulligan. She has confided to her advisor that she feels invisible in her classes and unwelcome in her residence hall. These feelings have only intensified over the past few weeks after she was the target of a racist prank during a fraternity party. This prank did not produce any repercussions because it was labeled as ‘satirical’ instead of hateful.
“I don’t think anyone here really cares if I stay or go,” Kerry says, looking down at her lap. “I’m thinking it might be best just to go back home. There’s a local community college …”
With intent and caring eyes, Ruth reaches out to cover Kerry’s balled-up fists. She waits until Kerry looks up at her with eyes wet with unshed tears.
“I care,” Ruth says fiercely. “And I know others who care too. We can figure this out … together.”
Kerry gives Ruth a tentative smile and a small nod. It will have to do for now.
~~~*~~~
Ruth creates a triage team, pairing Kerry with a junior peer mentor in Biology, a lead advisor in her major, and a faculty mentor who can advise her about her career path. On the social side, Ruth directs the STEM retention task force to identify emergency financial aid and a student organization that, while not explicitly focused on race, has a history of providing safe places for students of color in STEM.
Over the next two months, while Kerry starts to meet with her mentors and advisor, word spreads. More and more students seek out the new Office of Retention for help. They share harrowing and frustrating stories of bias, harassment, being shunned, and disregarded. Ruth and her team, and the network they created, always work to find ways to offer support. They are careful to frame their efforts in state-compliant ways using the neutral language of “student success” and “wellness”, but they are thoughtful and strategic as well, targeting areas and people in ways that are culturally responsive and attentive to their unique circumstances.
~~~*~~~
Not everyone is supportive. A biology professor makes a viral post on Twitter calling the “so-called ‘Office of Retention’” DEI rebranded and accuses the staff of being “up to their old woke tricks”. The local conservative paper features an op-ed that declares “DEI isn’t dead, it’s just hiding under new tactics.” Shortly after the op-ed runs, Ruth’s supervisor, Todd Banneker, the Vice-President of Student Affairs, calls Ruth into his office.
“I know you’re doing your best,” Todd says carefully. “But the president and the board don’t like all of this negative press.”
Ruth frowns, feigning confusion, even though she knows exactly what Todd means.
“I’m not sure what you mean? You know everything we do is evidence-based and related to improving student retention. That’s what everyone wants, right?”
She ends the sentence with a hopeful smile, her eyes intent with a silent dare. Todd narrows his eyes and stares back at her as a silent argument ensues. Truth be told, Ruth knows there is no real debate here. Todd cares about students, too. And so finally, unsurprisingly, he relents their staring contest with a deep sigh and a head shake.
“Right. I know you use evidence-based practices, but just … just be careful out there. They’re watching you. They’re watching all of us.”
Ruth nods and stands to leave. “Good. Because we’re working hard to improve student outcomes!”
Todd bites back a smile, like he is holding in laughter. “Yeah, you really are. Go get ‘em, Ruth.”
And if Ruth leaves Todd’s office with a little spring in her step because she now knows she has the confirmation that her supervisor is a secret ally to her covert operations, no one has to know.
~~~*~~~
By the end of the semester, retention rates improve. The climb is not dramatic, but it is an increase, especially among students of color. Even more significantly, the Office of Retention Services now has an established and ever-growing underground network of supporters that spans the entire university at all levels, from janitorial staff and administrative support to faculty and senior leadership.
And while there was still a lot of work to be done to address bias and harassment, a counterculture that does not tolerate bigotry and hate has taken root and spread. Ruth’s “student success” initiatives are making a difference in inclusion and equity, even if they cannot be labeled as such.
Kerry, now thriving in her classes and serving as a mentor herself, stops by Ruth’s office one day.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” she said. “I don’t know how you do it, but you make people feel like they matter.”
Ruth smiles. “Because you do.”
As Kerry leaves, Ruth swivels her chair to continue the development of her new project, developing a statewide network dedicated to sharing strategies and support for DEI in spite of the ban. The road ahead was long, and the obstacles were daunting. But Ruth was determined to keep building—quietly, steadily, and with unwavering resolve. In a place where the words “diversity,” “equity,” and “inclusion” had been silenced, Ruth was proving that actions could speak louder than words.
4.3. Possible Strategies from Future Scenario #1
This future scenario highlights the challenges posed by federal restrictions on DEI and provides actionable strategies for institutions and practitioners to maintain equity efforts, particularly in conservative states. Ruth realizes that she must be more subversive, drawing on lessons from decentralized, grassroots approaches from past civil rights movements in both the United States and South Africa. She draws on her community, and where there is none, she engages in creativity and builds one, not only for herself but her staff, the students they serve, and the entire community. This requires a focused intention to fight oppression, stay resilient, and resist pressure to just abandon her original goals as a DEI professional.
4.4. Future Scenario #2: Liberal State Negotiation and Resistance to Federal Pressure
Under Trump’s directives, DEI policies face further dismantling at the federal level. Executive orders and judicial appointments favor restrictions on race-conscious admissions, federal funding for DEI offices, and protections for marginalized groups. Colleges and universities are pressured to comply with these changes. Liberal institutions negotiate and sometimes outright resist federal pressure to eliminate DEI policies and practices. The level of compliance among liberal institutions varies widely. DEI initiatives become highly polarized, with liberal states and institutions continuing to either prioritize equity and inclusion or hide them under more politically palatable areas. This creates a fragmented higher education system, where progress on DEI is regional and inconsistent. Despite federal restrictions, advocacy groups, student organizations, and progressive institutions resist the dismantling of DEI. These efforts are decentralized and grassroots, relying on private funding and community partnerships to maintain DEI initiatives.
4.5. Short Story #2: The Long Game
It is a strange morning. It is not even 8 am yet, and Dr. Angela Turner is already fielding questions from parents, the Provost of her college, and freakin’ Good Morning America. This cannot be real life right now.
But as Angela drinks her morning latte and browses AP News, it becomes increasingly clear this is the new reality. In the twenty-four hours that the newly disabled Department of Education set up a portal for reporting “discrimination”, especially against Whites, and three new southern and midwestern states introduced legislation banning DEI, the president of the United States has declared war on any higher education institution that continues to support DEI. As the Chief Diversity Officer, who oversaw the Office of Diversity and all diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives for an elite liberal arts college in a small New England state, Angela is suddenly in the spotlight.
Angela, who has always preferred working behind the scenes, hates the spotlight.
But she is grateful to still have a job and the support of her college. Her colleagues in other states are not as fortunate. Part of the reason why she is so tired this morning is that she was up half the night on GroupMe, providing support to friends and colleagues across the country who suddenly find themselves unemployed or waiting for the word that they no longer have a job.
Spotlight or not, she still has a job, and she plans to put 110% into it now because, apparently, her institution has been labeled by the president as Public Enemy #1 in the fight over DEI in higher education.
Angela arrives at Ginsburg College just after 9 am, and is greeted by a small crowd of news vans and protesters. Some of the signs read “DEI is Anti-White” and “DEI Should DIE”, while others say “Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, Always,” or “Diversity Strengthens Community.” News anchors shout at her and try to push mics in her face as she pushes her way through them. So far, no one from the college’s communications office has reached out. She knows firsthand how bad saying the wrong thing to the wrong reporter or posting the wrong thing on social media can go, so she keeps her mouth shut and her eyes focused on the path to the Student Equity Center.
Finally, she makes it to the front doors and exhales when she sees security. They give her a small smile and help escort her through while blocking the reporters following her. Once the doors close behind her, she catches her breath, willing her blood pressure down. If it was this bad to get to the door, how bad does her email box look right now?
She should not have asked. Angela’s email is overflowing with media requests as well as requests for advice and support from colleagues and professional associations around the country. It is overwhelming.
There is a priority email from the university president with an innocuous subject line: “Upcoming Strategic Conversations.” Angela can tell that it is only a reiteration of the phone call she had with the Provost this morning detailing the administration’s plan to continue their commitment to DEI while also “rebranding” the DEI office to align with “student success” initiatives. Angela’s blood begins to boil again. She recalls the constrained debate she had with the Provost over the rebrand, and she gave in to external political pressure. The Provost’s message was clear, and obviously parroting the president’s vague email message—the college would curtail political divisiveness and federal scrutiny while remaining supportive of its progressive values.
~~~*~~~
The strategic planning town hall for the college is planned for the end of the week. In the two days since the president sent out the invitation to the town hall, the atmosphere on campus has become incredibly charged.
While the campus quad was still alive with student life and faculty and administrators busy walking to and from their business, there was an undercurrent of tension that belied all of the small talk and laughter. There were whispers, too, especially wherever Angela went, along with curious eyes and outright stares that she had never encountered before. What did they think of her now? Of her office? Were they looking to her to make the next bold move that would change the course of the fight over DEI?
It is not just the campus; wherever Angela goes in town, and online, she is asked “how is Ginsburg going to respond?”
It is difficult not to be somewhat resentful of the question. As a middle-aged Black woman who has always had to fight to be heard, now, all of a sudden, when the most powerful person in the country is looking to trample over the most marginalized, everyone wants to hear her voice. Why is the press not asking these questions of her colleagues? Or asking the Board members who have the power to act on behalf of Ginsburg? Somehow, Angela has become the face and the target in this David and Goliath fight.
She pauses near the college’s counseling center, where a group of students are tabling for a peer mentorship program she had helped launch. The sign reads “Find Your Community: Join Us!” She makes small talk with them and checks in to see if there is anything she or her office can do to help them. These are Black, Indigenous, LGBTQ+, first-generation students who are at Ginsburg not only because of its academic reputation but because they can raise their voice and be heard, and they know that the college will support them. It reminds Angela that this fight is not about her; it is about making higher education better for those students—not just at Ginsburg, but everywhere. While Ginsburg seems intent on changing the language around DEI to be more politically palatable to the President of the United States, Angela is going to make sure it never compromises its support.
~~~*~~~
Friday comes, and the town hall is packed, with some people standing up in the back and others crowded into an entirely different room to watch the proceedings on satellite television. The conversation grows quite heated, and the President, Provost, faculty, and students spar about what DEI means and what it means at Ginsburg. The final word, of course, goes to the President, who reiterates Gingsbughs’s commitment to DEI while also firmly stating they plan to “broaden the language to be more inclusive and aligned with national goals”. It earns him a round of boos, while Angela and her staff exchange silent, worried glances.
Angela ignores requests from the press to talk because she does not see how any public statement can help her students or her office. Instead, she works with her staff on planning how they will work with senior leadership to continue the work they have already done, with or without the rebrand. To her relief, senior leadership has promised not to cut budgets or staff. The sign on their building is replaced, though.
Angela’s office is the same, but the name of the building is different. They dropped the ‘Equity’ from the sign, and now it just reads ‘Student Center’.
Every time Angela sees it, she grits her teeth, but if that is the only thing that Ginsburg drops from DEI, then she will take it … for now.
She is taking a quick lunch break when a knock on her office door draws her attention.
“Come in!”
In pokes the round, brown face of Maria, a first-generation daughter of Mexican immigrant parents who is active in the campus’s chapter of United We Dream, the largest immigrant youth-led organization in the nation. Maria looks nervous as Angela invites her to sit down in front of her desk.
“Is everything alright?” Angela asks.
Maria shakes her head. “Not really. I know Ginsburg says they are still committed to protecting us, but everyone is nervous.”
“Everyone?”
“I’m nervous,” Maria whispers as she wrings her hands.
Angela nods. “Completely understandable. Things are scary right now, but you know how we face our fears?”
Maria blows out a hard breath. “Pray?”
“That’s certainly a viable tactic,” Maria affirms, leaning back. “We can also draw upon our community.”
Maria throws up her hands. “To do what?”
Angela shrugs. “We won’t know until we ask people what they think can be done. What do you think might happen if we brought folks together to talk about solutions?”
The answering smile on Maria’s face and the light in her eyes is all the response Angela needs to begin planning the Center’s next event.
~~~*~~~
In the two weeks since Ginsburg’s rebrand, five states have introduced new DEI bans. Ginsburg sees a sharp increase in transfer requests from students from conservative states. In particular, inquiries for admissions and transfers from marginalized students are up by over 300%, and the demand from international students increases dramatically as well. It is the hottest topic on campus—How will Ginsburg attend to both DEI and accommodate demand for seats that do not exist?
Central to the conversations is the role that Angela and her office will play in the future of the college. With new demand and an increasingly diverse population, there will be more conflict and opportunities for learning how to engage in difficult conversations across differences. There will also be more strain on the Center’s resources as more students call upon them for support with financial stress, as well as food and housing insecurity. The Student Center’s staff is developing a long-term strategic plan for how to address these new challenges.
Angela is also doing what she can to support her colleagues outside of Ginsburg by drawing on lessons she learned about civil rights activists in the 1950’s and 60’s. Like the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, she tries to connect strategic partners by forming a national DEI practitioner network with her friend and colleague, Ruth Jenkins from Mulligan University. The network develops a handbook on strategies DEI offices and practitioners can use to circumvent DEI bans and scrutiny, especially in conservative states where people are actively losing their jobs and funding to support marginalized students. Angela also raises awareness among senior leadership at Ginsburg about ways they can support DEI in their outreach and relationships with state higher education by demanding more funding and consideration of DEI outcomes in the state’s performance funding model.
In addition to all of the DEI faculty and staff training sessions, conflict resolution meetings addressing bias and harassment incidents, coordinating cross-cultural student activities and mentoring programs, and advising affinity groups for different marginalized populations, Angela is now in charge of monitoring student outcomes directly related to all of Ginsburg’s DEI efforts. The battle for continuing DEI is now strongly connected to the outcomes it produces, both in student retention and student outcomes after graduation.
It is a lot, but if Angela has learned anything in the past few months, it is that she cannot try to do it all alone. She is only one person, and it really does take a community to do this work.
~~~*~~~
In the weeks that follow, Angela takes part in a wave of meetings and private conversations with students, faculty, administrators, and staff. The president moves forward with the full rebrand, and many DEI initiatives and programs are relabeled as ‘wellness’ and ‘student success’, and, to Angela’s relief, these rebrands do not involve structural change to their funding and goals, even if a few words that were there before are now missing. Calls from the press start to dwindle as the media catches on that neither Angela nor her team is interested in engaging in a pointless public spat with the President of the United States or the state legislators who want to use them to score political points.
One evening, Angela is on campus, overseeing another organized rally by one of the many affinity groups she advises. The quad is packed with students holding signs that read, “Equity is Not Optional” and “We Are Ginsburg.” At the center, on top of a concrete bench, stands Maria, speaking passionately about her experiences and the importance of DEI to her and her friends.
“We won’t let them erase us,” Maria says with stunning clarity, her voice ringing out across the crowd. “This campus belongs to all of us, and we’re not going anywhere.”
Angela feels a surge of pride and hope. The resilience Maria exudes reminds Angela that even when things grow dark and appear hopeless, all it takes is one light, one voice, to rekindle the flame of hope and give new life to a movement. It will not be easy, but Angela knows that she has the support of key allies within her institution and across the nation to help meet these new demands and face the spotlight she is sure to remain in for the long run to determine the future of higher education, who can participate in it, and rage on.
4.6. Possible Strategies from Future Scenario #2
Angela’s story highlights the challenges liberal institutions might face in a polarized DEI landscape as well as the importance of resilience, strategic adaptation, and drawing on lessons from past civil rights movements like the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) which organized grassroots advocacy and demonstrations. In states where DEI remains legal, institutions should commit to expanding support to marginalized students, DEI offices, and DEI professionals, even if the institution decides to rebrand to protect DEI. This may mean seeking alternative funding sources and building coalitions with other institutions. In this story, Angela enlists her community to help her develop outreach and partner for alternative sources of funding and resources, as well as build a coalition to engage in helping others to resist political pressure.
4.7. Future Scenario #3: Inequity and Uncertainty for HBCUs and Community Colleges
Under Trump’s directives, DEI policies face further dismantling at the federal level. Executive orders and judicial appointments favor restrictions on race-conscious admissions, federal funding for DEI offices, and protections for marginalized groups. While HWIs are pressured to comply with these changes, especially in conservative states, Historically Black Colleges and Universities and community colleges face an influx of interest from students of color who have been shut out of HWIs and are looking to lower tuition costs. In a period where the looming “enrollment cliff” crisis is emerging, HWIs began competing with HBCUs and community colleges to recruit, even in the face of not being able to use Affirmative Action or explicit DEI outreach. HBCUs and community colleges continue to face inequitable funding, and the situation worsens under state performance funding models. DEI initiatives become highly polarized, with liberal states and institutions continuing to prioritize equity and inclusion, while conservative states and institutions align with federal restrictions. This creates a fragmented higher education system, where progress on DEI is regional and inconsistent. Despite federal restrictions, advocacy groups, student organizations, and progressive institutions resist the dismantling of DEI. These efforts are decentralized and grassroots, relying on private funding and community partnerships to maintain DEI initiatives.
4.8. Short Story #3: The Weight of Legacy
As Dr. Renetta Greene steps onto the campus of Magnolia State Community College, she can feel the charge of a new school year. As she makes her way to the Student Activities Office, students and staff brush past her. She smiles as she soaks in the energy of post-summer reunions and laughter amid new student introductions. It is all so familiar, but there is something different in the air this time around.
As the Director of Student Life at the state’s oldest Historically Black Community College, Renetta is fully aware of Magnolia’s legacy and all of the expectations that come with it, even in the face of looming state budget cuts. In her role, she is charged with supporting student engagement and improving campus climate, even as the world around Magnolia begins to fracture under the weight of an increasingly contentious political state environment. As she makes her way to the Student Activities Office, she tries to smile and not dwell on the threat of a reduction in her budget, which may also result in a reduction in full-time staff to support the work of her office.
It is only the hope that state legislators recognize the importance of Magnolia State Community College to the workforce goals of the state. But with a history steeped in the civil rights movement and the site of many current advocacy efforts, Renetta worries that Magnolia will now be a target of the conservative state legislature. The state ban on DEI last week had immediate negative impacts on big universities like Mulligan, and Renetta knows all too well from the firsthand account of friends like Ruth Jenkins how a lack of state funding can devastate an entire institution. While the state has not gone after HBCUs yet, they are examining community colleges. Renetta is not naïve enough to think that Magnolia’s designation as an HBCU may protect it from scrutiny.
This aside, the state’s newly adopted performance-based funding model does not seem to give HBCUs or community colleges any points. In fact, judging by the new model’s rubrics, Magnolia stands to lose money. The funding model rewards enrollment numbers, graduation rates, and job placement statistics—metrics that favored HWIs with deeper pockets and better resources. Magnolia, with its limited funding and rising operational costs, was being left behind. The state’s refusal to acknowledge the unique contributions of HBCUs and community colleges, like educating and graduating disproportionally more historically disadvantaged students than their HWI counterparts.
All the signs seem to indicate that Magnolia is at risk.
Renetta sits at her desk in her small office; her walls are plastered with photos of past students and campus events celebrating Magnolia’s heritage. She swallows hard as she skims the latest student outcomes report. Enrollment is up. The dismantling of Affirmative Action, coupled with an influx of Black students seeking refuge from institutions that do not make them feel welcome, has resulted in the largest incoming freshman class ever. However, retention rates are dropping. More than ever before in all of Renetta’s time at Magnolia, students are facing financial hardships, struggling with housing and food insecurity, and battling mental health challenges. The influx of students of color excluded from HWIs due to the dismantling of Affirmative Action would stretch Magnolia’s resources thin. Yet, despite the pending challenges, Renetta is determined to fight for her students, and for Magnolia.
~~~*~~~
Later that week, Renetta sits in Magnolia’s small and worn auditorium alongside a crowd of administrators, faculty, and staff. They all received an emergency email this morning about an important announcement. Their chatter is nervous and filled with speculation as they wait for someone, anyone, to take to the stage. Will it be the president? A member of the Board of Trustees? Renetta is not sure she even wants to hear from senior leadership right now. The smaller the news, the better.
A hush sweeps across the auditorium as President Milton Carter enters the auditorium. Renetta and dozens of others watch him closely as he takes to the steps of the stage. It feels like the entire room is holding its breath as he approaches the podium.
“Good afternoon. Thank you all for gathering her at such short notice. I wanted to give you some news personally and field any questions you may have to cut down on gossip and untruths.”
Renetta turns with wide eyes to look at her colleague, Vanessa. Vanessa looks just as perplexed and worried.
“I just learned from the state higher education board that there is a proposal about to be made in the legislature for a ten percent cut to funding across the board to higher education. And as you all probably already have heard, the new state performance funding model puts Magnolia at a disadvantage …. ”
President Carter’s voice fades as a cacophony of frantic ideas invades Renetta’s thoughts. Budget cuts, on top of the impossible standards set by the new performance funding model, which only rewards the wealthiest and most academically prepared student bodies, which are overwhelmingly White.
How can Magnolia survive this?
That question becomes the single question shaping every meeting Renetta has over the next week. While some of her colleagues start looking for other employment, Renetta and her team try to strategize how they can cut costs even further, even though they are already running on a shoestring budget. Anxiety and fear are at an all-time high, and Renetta can practically cut the tension in staff meetings with a knife.
She reaches her breaking point on Thursday during an executive leadership meeting focused on shifting admissions requirements and resources to students who are better prepared and can produce better outcomes.
“We need to be realistic,” said Dr. Henderson, the Vice-President of Enrollment. “The state’s performance funding model isn’t going to change anytime soon. We have to find ways to adapt.”
A pang of frustration grips Renetta’s heart at those words. Adapting sounded too much like acquiescence. Complete surrender.
“No,” she hears herself saying without even a second thought.
It is not until all eyes turn to her in the ensuing silence that she realizes she actually said that out loud. Now, the entire room (and her supervisor) is looking at her. ‘Oh well, here goes nothing,’ she thinks as she straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin defiantly.
“I understand the need to be practical, but we cannot, and absolutely should not, lose sight of who we are. We are an HBCU. One of the oldest HBCUs in this region. Our legacy is social justice. We were committed to diversity and inclusion before people even used those terms. If we start changing our standards, our services to please this state’s legislature, which, by the way, has made it clear it is no fan of equity or inclusion, then we give up our mission, our identity.”
She can feel the tremor in her hand as she realizes that, perhaps, she has said too much. Of course, it needed to be said, but maybe she should not have been the messenger. Gripped by a sudden urge to leave, instead, Renetta bites down on her tongue and sits back in her seat.
The room remains uncomfortably quiet for several moments until Dr. Henderson turns to her and gives a short nod.
“You’re right,” he says.
Renetta sucks in a breath, her eyes darting to her supervisor, who is nodding as well with a small, approving smile.
“How do you suggest we proceed, Dr. Greene?”
Renetta licks her lips and exhales. “Well, we wouldn’t have to reinvent the wheel. Other HBCUs and community colleges are facing the same things. I’ve been talking to my colleagues across the country, and there are things we can do to survive this without losing our soul.”
There is an outbreak of chatter, and if Renetta is not mistaken, it sounds a lot like hope and excitement.
Dr. Henderson’s voice rises above it all, calling back to order. “Good to know. Maybe we need to spend some time gathering some data from our peers. How about we create a best practices task force for surviving state budget cuts and DEI bans? Anyone interested?”
A dozen hands fly up, including Renetta’s.
Yeah, this might just work.
~~~*~~~
Once again, Magnolia’s small auditorium is packed. But this time, instead of nervous chatter, the air is bursting with excitement. Renetta’s hands are still shaking a little, but not from fear. Taking cues from historical African-American grassroots activism, the best practices task force has been working for months on developing the primary playbook to be embedded into the institution’s new strategic plan. On top of a new vision with empirically backed strategies for cost sharing, knowledge sharing, and fundraising, Magnolia has a new list of partnerships with other institutions, nonprofits, private donors, and local businesses. Renetta also has a whole new roster of allies across the state and country who are ready to share information and offer support when she needs it.
The audience quiets as the president takes to the podium to announce the strategic plan, and thanks the evidence task force by name before launching into the seven areas the plan covers.
Beside her, Dr. Henderson leans over and whispers, “I’m so glad you spoke up.”
Renetta flashes a grateful smile and looks out past the president to the audience of hopeful faces.
She is grateful she spoke up for Magnolia, too.
4.9. Possible Strategies from Future Scenario #3
This future scenario story highlights the challenges that HBCUs and community colleges might face in a polarized DEI landscape, where many southern states have taken a conservative approach to ban DEI. Most HBCUs are located in southern conservative states, and community colleges are also sensitive to both state political scrutiny and funding changes. Consequently, HBCUs like Magnolia that are also community colleges may be especially vulnerable in this scenario. Renetta’s story highlights that while HWIs may struggle to adapt to anti-DEI bans, HBCUs and community colleges may see increased enrollment from marginalized students seeking refuge and affordability. However, these institutions may also face financial strain due to inequitable funding models and rising operational costs, compounded by state performance metrics that favor wealthier HWIs. Renetta illustrates some strategies these institutions may use, such as developing solutions, including strategic partnerships, using best practice strategies, coalition building, and speaking truth to power about the legacy of one’s institution, especially when equity and inclusion are intrinsic to the institution’s identity and mission.