The Death of a DEI Professional

I am a Black woman who has dedicated my entire career to public health. I have led national, state, and local initiatives and have worked on federal, state, and community-run projects. I have witnessed racism, fought against it, and have personally experienced it in both my personal and professional life. I understand the toll it takes. However, I also recognize that calling out racism can have serious repercussions on one's health, and in some cases, it can even be fatal. This type of death extends beyond the physical; it is a social death, a form of erasure that comes from simply sharing one's truth. The weaponization of this truth contributes to the destruction of many. Advocating for equitable systems of care can make you a target.

The terminology commonly used in the fight—such as Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, Belonging, and Social Determinants—feels like ammunition in a gun I help load. That is now being aimed at me. Yes, I understand that my existence is threatened—a kind of social death that comes with no remedies. While there are ways to navigate this situation, such as compromising authenticity or choosing to be silent, many people lack the privilege. I'm making every effort to extend my time here, but evading harm has become a necessary skill; even a protective shell can't ensure safety when someone is targeting me directly. Being asked to stifle the hard-earned insights I've gained in pursuing justice feels like capitulating to wounds inflicted by a relentless assault. I won't lie—fear grips me.