For centuries, African Americans have carried the weight of this nation’s contradictions—building democracy while being denied its promises, creating culture while facing exclusion, and striving for justice even when justice was delayed. Every stride toward equality has been met with resistance. Today’s attacks on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion are no different. They are simply the newest form of an old struggle.

But history tells us something powerful: whenever the door to opportunity cracked open, African Americans pushed it wider—not only for themselves, but for all people. The Civil Rights Act opened paths for women, immigrants, and the disabled. The Voting Rights Act strengthened democracy for everyone. The fight for equity has never been selfish; it has always been expansive.

And yet, our opponents raise the banner of “fairness.” They tell us DEI is unfair, that it gives some an advantage at the expense of others. But here is the truth: fairness in this nation has always been fungible. Look no further than the Supreme Court’s decision on affirmative action. In striking down race-conscious admissions for universities, the Court carved out one exception—for the military. Why? Because the majority’s national security depends on it. Diversity, we are told, is unfair in classrooms, but essential on the battlefield. That is fairness made flexible, fairness bent to serve majority interests.

At first glance, the exemplary record of African Americans in business, science, the arts, athletics, and politics might seem to stand in tension with the case for Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion. If African Americans have achieved so much despite barriers, the question is often raised: why continue DEI? Isn’t merit alone enough? Merit is indeed central. No one argues for diminishing standards; African American achievement itself is proof of excellence under conditions where merit was often doubted or denied. But merit cannot operate in a vacuum. It requires fair access to resources, networks, and opportunities. DEI ensures that merit is recognized, not obscured by bias or structural disadvantage. Without such measures, “merit” risks becoming a mask for inherited privilege

So how should we respond? With truth. With courage. With the unshakable knowledge that DEI is not a gift but a safeguard of justice, born of blood, sacrifice, and struggle. We must remind this nation that diversity enriches its schools, strengthens its workplaces, and fuels its creativity. Equity is not favoritism; it is fairness applied where fairness has too long been denied. Inclusion is not division; it is democracy fulfilled.

And we respond not with silence, but with solidarity. We build coalitions, raise our voices, and defend the gains that others would erase. We tell our stories so loudly that no law, no ban, no political order can silence them.

The history of African Americans proves one truth: progress is never given, it is won. And each time it is attacked, we rise again—not only to defend it, but to push the nation closer to its highest ideals. For fairness may be fungible in the mouths of our critics, but in our hands it remains steady, rooted in justice, and anchored in truth.