Breaking the Perception of DEI Success

In my time as a Black woman navigating the advertising industry, I've come to believe that there is a fundamental misperception around how success in diversity, equity, and inclusion (DE&I) is measured and what that success should look like. Too often, the metrics used to gauge progress focus on symbolic gestures rather than transformative change.

One of the most common practices I’ve encountered is the insistence on "diverse candidate pools" rather than "diverse hires." A hiring team may consistently ensure that a Black person is included in the set of candidates considered, yet there is no mandate or even structured accountability to ensure that qualified Black candidates are being hired—particularly in leadership positions. In many instances, hiring decisions come down to personal recommendations, internal referrals, or familiarity, reinforcing homogeneity rather than opening doors for meaningful diversity.

Recent announcements, such as Meta's decision to dissolve its DE&I programs, have highlighted a disturbing trend: companies claiming that these initiatives haven’t been “successful” and subsequently walking away from the work altogether. But what does success mean when inequities persist? Eliminating these initiatives doesn't address the systemic barriers that hinder the hiring, retention, and promotion of diverse candidates—it may exacerbate them. The urgency to fix what’s broken in these systems has never been greater, yet the response in some quarters is to abandon the effort entirely. This sends a clear message: DE&I wasn’t designed with sustainability or accountability in mind.

When I entered the industry, I had an M.S. degree and years of professional experience. Yet, I took an internship in a program designed for "multicultural" students in advertising, which led to my being hired at the entry-level role of Assistant Account Executive (AAE). Meanwhile, my manager at the time, also holding an M.S. but without any professional experience in the advertising field, was accepted into an executive leadership program subsidized by his Ivy League institution—an opportunity likely influenced by his legacy admission.

It took me years of hard work, strategic moves, and navigating systemic barriers to reach the VP level. I often had to switch agencies to gain the experiences and compensation increases that my white counterparts seemed to receive more readily and earlier in their careers. It wasn’t uncommon for white colleagues who entered the industry at the same time as I did to reach executive-level positions years ahead of me. Their trajectories weren’t fueled solely by skill or merit—though many were talented—but by relationships, sponsorships, and systemic grace.

One particularly stark example stays with me: My boss hired a white male bartender we all knew from our frequent after-work spot because he displayed the soft skill of listening. While I didn’t necessarily disagree with valuing interpersonal skills, it was hard to ignore the stark contrast when the same boss almost rejected a highly capable Black male candidate because of his college GPA. I fought for that candidate, and I am proud to say that he was hired and has since risen to the VP level—a career success that may not have happened had I not spoken up.

In contrast, I recall another instance where I was instructed to hire a white female candidate into a supervisory role despite her lack of advertising agency experience. Meanwhile, I had already identified and advocated for a qualified Black male candidate who met the job's criteria. I was overruled. I trained her diligently, meeting with her every morning to walk through her responsibilities, prep her for client meetings, and help her navigate agency processes. She made mistakes—as anyone new to the industry would—but she was afforded a level of grace that I would have never been extended. If I had made similar mistakes early in my career, I would have been written up, sidelined, or even let go.

I’ve also seen Black professionals struggle to succeed in environments where they receive little to no mentorship or support. Instead of being given the tools to grow, they were ridiculed for perceived inadequacies and, in some cases, bullied out of their roles altogether.

This is why I find the notion of "filling the pipeline" so disheartening. In too many DE&I conversations, there’s an overwhelming emphasis on entry-level diversity—recruiting interns and entry-level employees from "diverse backgrounds." But where is the focus on hiring into leadership or on retaining, training, and promoting existing Black professionals into senior roles? Where is the acknowledgment that we don’t need more internships—we need seats at decision-making tables?

The reality is, I support the same hiring practices that benefit white candidates when they are extended to Black candidates as well. I would love to be hired because someone simply connected with me and believed in my potential, just as I’ve seen happen for others. But inherent bias is a hurdle that I have to overcome first—something a white candidate being interviewed by a white recruiter and white hiring manager may never know or understand. When those hiring decisions are based on “gut feelings,” Black professionals often find themselves at a disadvantage because their identities trigger unspoken biases and doubts.

When diverse employees are hired into roles that do not match their qualifications, it not only stunts their professional growth but also reinforces a damaging perception that Black professionals must “earn” their right to leadership through years of proving themselves in ways that their white counterparts do not. This perception must change.

My story is not unique—it is the reality for many Black professionals across industries. The erosion of DE&I programs amid claims of inefficacy feels like a betrayal of the progress that was promised. Addressing systemic inequities in hiring and promotions requires more than diverse candidate pools. It requires intentional hiring practices, mentorship, sponsorship, and a commitment to disrupting the bias that underpins the "gut feeling" decisions that often dictate hiring outcomes.

True equity means asking hard questions: Are Black professionals being promoted at the same rate as their white counterparts? Are hiring decisions rooted in qualifications and skills rather than personal biases and relationships? Are DE&I efforts centered on creating inclusive environments where diverse hires can thrive, be mentored, and be promoted into leadership?

My experience in this industry has made me an advocate for these changes—for hiring based on merit and for creating pathways to leadership that aren’t contingent on someone's alma mater, legacy ties, or familiarity. I hope my reflections resonate and inspire others to challenge the status quo, build systems of accountability, and commit to real, sustained progress. After all, diversity isn’t about optics—it’s about opportunity.

In a time when companies are scaling back on DE&I efforts, the need for urgency in addressing inequity has only increased. We don’t just work to be visible; we work to live—and we deserve to do so in environments that are just and equitable.