[IMPORTANT: Make this 4 times longer with much more detail]
Photo by Christina @ wocintechchat.com on Unsplash By Esther Zeledon February 24, 2025 – 16:01 As Latinas and professionals, we’ve had to fight for recognition, for our rights, for some semblance of equal pay. Many of us have been trailblazers in this fight, with few mentors to guide our way or lift us as we move through our careers. The one piece of support we had was DEI – Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion initiatives. These policies and practices have formed the foundation of opportunity, access, and justice for historically marginalized communities. DEI has shaped careers, leveled playing fields, and created pipelines for leadership that were once inaccessible. But this year we are already witnessing an unprecedented rollback of these hard-won gains, and the recent shifts in DEI are reshaping the landscape of access and representation. Sweeping about-faces in policy are motivating reversals in corporate hiring and investment in diversity initiatives nationwide. These are much more than just routine adjustments. This moment is not just about losing programs or funding— it is about the structural changes that impact opportunities for future generations. For Latinas, who remain underrepresented in leadership, corporate boards, and STEM fields, these setbacks create additional barriers to advancement. For those of us whose lives and careers were shaped by DEI, these changes are devastating. This movement has been building momentum since last year with the Supreme Court’s decision to end Affirmative Action . Back in November, I thought to myself: “Well, I survived as a climate change scientist, DEI advocate, and humanitarian working directly as a federal employee under previous Administrations. I can do this again.” I was expecting what we all were—the usual changes that happen with a change in leadership: policy reversals on climate change and reproductive access, reductions or pivots in government programs, shifts in funding priorities. I figured that since I was no longer a federal employee, I could continue running my social enterprise, BeActChange, without disruption. Stay connected! Subscribe now and get the latest on culture, empowerment, and more. SIGN ME UP! This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and Google Privacy Policy and the Terms of Service . Thank You! You are already subscribed to our newsletter At BeActChange, we support individuals, teams, and organizations in achieving their highest aspirations—helping them unpack mission, vision, and purpose, operationalize the plan to make it happen, and build the resilience and structures to keep it going. As a social enterprise, we give a portion of our proceeds, time, and funding to support underrepresented students with coaching and workshops. I thought I had built full diversification into our business strategy. My work extended across private sector contracts, government consulting, universities, nonprofits, speaking engagements, and strategic facilitation—everything from leadership development to scientific and technical consultancy, professional development, and nonprofit advisory. My husband and I have the credentials—me with a PhD in Environmental Science, Policy, and Management (climate change), him in Development Economics. We are both former diplomats who have worked all over the world, have a best-selling, award-winning book, and have been featured in the media. My government contracts weren’t even tied to climate change, and “DEI” never appears directly in any of our language. We focused on professional development and capacity-building for local governments and institutions. What could go wrong? Apparently, everything. On January 24th, 95 percent of my contracts—spanning the private sector, government, universities, and nonprofits—were either canceled, stopped, or postponed. Some were direct cancellations; others were collateral damage, caught in the ripple effect of those who suddenly feared anything peripherally associated with DEI. It wasn’t just government contracts. As the emails flooded in, I couldn’t understand or even process what was happening. Then I started reading and digging deeper. The executive order, Ending Radical and Wasteful Government DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) Programs and Preferencing, wasn’t just about government programs, but rather, a sweeping and immediate mandate. Typically, incoming administrations implement their new policies in phases. This was different. This was an outright purge, with the clear intent of eliminating DEI not just from government but across entire systems. My heart fell to the floor. My entire career has been shaped by and dedicated to DEI. I was that scholarship kid from the largest high school in the United States in Miami. I graduated fifth out of 2,000 students, taking an absurd number of AP classes from freshman year onward, doubling up requirements, going to summer school—doing everything I could just to get a chance to knock on the door of the elite colleges. Even though my qualifications and work surpassed Swarthmore College’s requirements, I know it was DEI that ensured my application was even considered. And DEI didn’t hand me the acceptance, but it leveled the playing field so that my talent could compete. I didn’t get to attend chemistry camp, and I didn’t have a polished essay guided by a professional, or connections who could vouch for me. The arguments against DEI talk about eliminating “preferencing,” yet legacy admissions remain untouched. DEI gave me more than just a chance at college—it gave me a full scholarship. It gave me the opportunity to study in the Costa Rican rainforest under the National Science Foundation, the leading independent federal agency that supports grants for science and engineering where I met lifelong mentors. It opened the doors to NASA, where I studied the effects of space launches on Florida’s wildlife. It secured me research positions in top laboratories, giving me the foundation to thrive in graduate school. It was because of DEI that I became a scientific advisor to the government, developed strategic plans for countries worldwide, and joined the Foreign Service, where I was one of the mere 1.8 percent of Latinos in that space. It was DEI that got me to those negotiation tables with ambassadors and world leaders where my background as a Latina immigrant brought perspectives and negotiated results that my white male colleagues could not have achieved. We were just starting to see real movement—programs designed to build pipelines for underrepresented students. That progress didn’t happen by accident; it took decades of advocacy, generations pushing for change. And despite the backlash, DEI has consistently proven to be good for business. We were starting to see those gains materializing. But we still had a long way to go—Latinxs remain severely underrepresented on corporate boards, and we were starting to see the beginnings of intergenerational wealth. And through DEI, we were starting to be included in medical and clinical trials to find health solutions that meet our unique needs. As these realizations hit me, my phone buzzed nonstop. So much of my own work and effort was coming to a grinding halt. A professional development program I was set to run for global experts? Gone. I thought about all the students I had mentored—the brilliant minds who earned scholarships, launched careers, became leaders. I had been the face they needed to see. So many told me I was the first Latina they had met in my field, in my position, or as a speaker. Representation isn’t just symbolic—it’s hard to become what you’ve never seen, so representation creates a pipeline. I thought about my 17-year-old self, finding belonging in the Latina/Hispanic club at Swarthmore. My 21-year-old self, leading the Latino association in graduate school, securing funding for professional development and outreach to recruit more Latinos in STEM. And by “recruit,” I mean simply giving them access to information so they even knew these paths existed. Then I thought of my 30s—when I became a mother. When I worked as a federal employee and maternity leave didn’t exist. I had to take unpaid leave for both of my children and go into debt. There were no pumping areas, no accommodations. DEI protects us as mothers. It took years for women in government to fight for paid maternity leave and basic workplace protections. People don’t realize that “inclusion” means accommodations for parents, veterans, people with disabilities. It means time with your baby without worrying about how to make enough money to cover basics. And now, those hard-won rights are under threat. For Latinas, this hits on multiple fronts—our roles as mothers, our children’s futures, and our own livelihoods. The worst part is the propaganda—the blatant misinformation that DEI is some unfair advantage when, in reality, it has never handed us anything. It simply allowed our talent to be recognized. Even with DEI, we’ve had to work twice as hard and be twice as competent just to get in the room. And then, I saw the post from STEM leader Rose D. Luna —her NASA bios erased. I saw Bonita Fierce Candles, a Latina-owned business I admire, share how, in the wake of the Affirmative Action ruling and corporate DEI rollbacks, they lost major contracts. They aren’t alone. Latinas across industries are sharing similar stories—speaking engagements canceled, partnerships dropped. I am not the only small business owner who has lost their livelihood. Families have been destabilized, communities wounded. We won’t even know the full social or economic impact until studies are done. And this isn’t just about us. Black, Indigenous, LGBTQIA+, and immigrant communities are facing the same erasure. These cuts dismantle the very pipelines that created access for all marginalized groups. So where do we go from here? We support each other. We uplift Latina, Black, and LGBTQIA+ businesses. We call out and stop supporting companies that have abandoned DEI. We back B-Corp businesses committed to social justice. We work for companies that value us—and we open doors for others. We donate, mentor, advocate. We stay informed. If the news feels overwhelming, track policy changes directly on the White House website, or subscribe to newsletters like Informada . Knowledge is power. And most importantly, we take care of ourselves. This is a long fight. Rest, recharge, and keep going. Our ancestors practiced breathwork to release pain, frustration, and anger. We must do the same. Rest. Resist. Recharge. Recenter. And then, we keep pushing forward. Dr. Esther Zeledon is the author of Creating Your Limitless Life , a former international diplomat and scientist turned life coach and co-founder of Be.Act.Change. In this Article DEI equity Esther Zeledon Trump administration workplace More on this topic News and Entertainment Ryan Dorsey Speaks on Naya Rivera’s Death & Raising Their Son February 21, 2025 – 16:00 News and Entertainment 11-year-old Dies By Suicide After Classmates Threatened to Call ICE on Family February 19, 2025 – 09:00 News and Entertainment Maná is First Spanish-language Rock Band Nominated for the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame February 19, 2025 – 06:00 News and Entertainment Iconic Mexican Singer Paquita la del Barrio Dies at 77 February 18, 2025 – 12:05
Leave feedback about this