In this episode of the "Collage" podcast, Rev. F. Willis Johnson interviews Rev. Aaron Rogers, director of the St. Stephens Episcopal Church in Ferguson, Mo.. Their conversation acknowledges the forthcoming 10-year remembrance of Michael Brown's death and the Ferguson uprising. Johnson and Rogers discuss the "pilgrimage" that introduced them to one another and impacted their vocational endeavors.
Today, Hispanic-Serving Institutions enroll 64 percent of all Latino college students.
The Tennessee Attorney General has partnered with a conservative legal nonprofit to sue the U.S. Department of Education over programming that supports Hispanic-Serving Institutions (HSIs), colleges, and universities where at least 25% of the undergraduate full-time equivalent student enrollment is Hispanic. On its face, this action claims to oppose “discriminatory” federal funding. In reality, it is part of a broader and deeply troubling trend: a coordinated effort to dismantle educational opportunity for communities of color under the guise of anti-DEI rhetoric.
As a scholar of educational policy and leadership in higher education, I believe we must confront policies that narrow access and undermine equity in education for those who have been historically underserved. What is happening in Tennessee is not just a misguided action—it’s a self-inflicted wound that will harm the state's economic future and deepen historical inequality.
For generations, higher education in the United States was designed to serve a narrow elite. White men were the primary beneficiaries of public and private investment, while communities of color were excluded from both elite universities and the funding that supports college success. Institutions like HSIs emerged to fill this gap—not only for Latinx students but also for African American, Indigenous, Asian American, and white working-class students. These colleges have done the heavy lifting with limited resources, yet they remain near the bottom of the higher education funding hierarchy.
Today, HSIs enroll 64 percent of all Latino college students. These students are overwhelmingly first-generation and low-income. And, yet, HSIs receive only a fraction of the support directed toward elite universities. While places like Princeton and Harvard, with multibillion-dollar endowments and selective admissions, continue to attract the lion’s share of attention and funding, HSIs remain chronically underresourced. Still, they persist—graduating thousands of students who would otherwise be locked out of opportunity.
Despite misleading narratives that suggest these institutions are receiving special treatment, the reality is quite the opposite. If we are to have an honest conversation about privilege in education, we must begin with the centuries-long history of exclusion that created the current landscape. The push to defund HSIs is not about leveling the playing field. It is about maintaining an uneven one.
The consequences of such disinvestment are not theoretical. Latino college completion rates still lag significantly behind those of white students. And by 2060, Latinos will make up nearly 28 percent of the U.S. population. Without significant investment in their education, the country risks a severe economic shortfall—one that will impact every sector of our workforce. This is not just a matter of fairness; it is a national imperative.
And yet, in the face of chronic underfunding and political hostility, some educational leaders are showing what true transformation looks like. In the largest study ever conducted on leadership at HSIs, I interviewed presidents, deans, advisors, and faculty across the country. What I found was not resignation but resolve.
At one community college in the Southwest where most of the students are Latinx, a multiracial team of leaders asked themselves a critical question: Are we being brave enough for our students? They rejected outdated leadership models designed for wealthy, white-serving institutions and instead reimagined their college from the ground up. They rewrote job descriptions with more inclusive language that attracted diverse faculty. They helped students access childcare and food pantries, offered emergency aid, and built job pipelines that reflected their students’ realities.
These leaders weren’t managing decline—they were building futures. Their work caught the attention of the federal government, as their college was one of the highest-ranked HSIs in the nation for Hispanic student credential completion. Community members voted to fund a local bond measure in support of the institution because they believed in what these leaders were doing.
This is what I identify as critical transformational leadership. It is grounded in justice, history, caringness, and courage. It is not about symbolic gestures or temporary programs—it is about structural change.
At a time when higher education is under attack, we need more of this kind of leadership, not less. The Tennessee lawsuit is not simply a political stunt—it is part of a larger movement to immobilize communities of color and preserve a shrinking version of America that no longer reflects our demographic and economic realities.
We must resist policies that aim to gut opportunity in the very institutions built to serve those long excluded. The story of American higher education doesn’t have to be one of continued exclusion. We can choose a different future—one where equity is not a threat but the foundation of our collective progress.
Dr. Anthony Hernandez is a faculty member in the Department of Educational Policy Studies at the University of Wisconsin—Madison (UW-Madison) received a research award from the National Academy of Education/Spencer Foundation for his study on leadership in higher education.
A miniature globe between a row of blue human figures
After political pressure and a federal investigation, Harvard University recently renamed and restructured its Office for Equity, Diversity, Inclusion, and Belonging. MIT announced the closure of its DEI office, stating that it would no longer support centralized diversity initiatives. Meanwhile, Purdue University shut down its Office of Diversity, Inclusion, and Belonging and removed cultural center programs that once served as safe spaces for marginalized students. I am aware of the costs of not engaging with ideas surrounding diversity and difference, and I have witnessed the consequences of the current administration's actions— and the pace at which universities are responding. It’s nowhere good.
I was forced to move to the United States from Russia, a country where the words inclusion, diversity, and equality are either misunderstood, mocked, or treated as dangerous ideology. In this country, a woman over fifty is considered “unfit” for the job market. Disability is not viewed as a condition that warrants accommodation, but rather as a reason to deny employment. LGBTQ+ individuals are treated not as equal citizens but as people who, ideally, shouldn’t exist, where the image of a rainbow on a toy or an ice cream wrapper can result in legal prosecution.
It is the world I came from, a world where using the language of DEI could cost you your job or your freedom.
I spent more than 30 years as a journalist. I served on the Committee for Equality and Non-Discrimination in the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe. I helped write laws to protect women, children, and survivors of abuse — all those pushed to the margins. I was also proud to serve as a Champion of We-Fi — the Women Entrepreneurs Finance Initiative — a global platform helping women access the capital and support they need to lead and thrive.
So yes — I know what a world without DEI looks like. It silences you. It isolates you. It punishes you for who you are.
When I arrived in the U.S., I experienced—perhaps for the first time—what it means to be seen, heard, and valued not despite who you are but because of it. Here, I discovered a culture where DEI wasn’t a slogan but a system that was real and effective in many places throughout society. One moment I’ll never forget occurred during my interview for a fellowship I’m currently participating in at The OpEd Project. With my Russian mentality — direct, a little skeptical — I asked the interviewer, “Am I the oldest in the cohort?”
She smiled warmly. “We practice diversity and inclusion in this country. You’ll feel comfortable in this group.”
That was my first real experience of inclusion.. I didn’t have to pretend to be younger. I didn’t have to apologize for my accent or background. Everything I carried — my age, story, roots — wasn’t baggage. It was a strength.
That’s why it breaks my heart to see this culture under attack, to watch universities shut down Diversity and Inclusion programs, and to see companies slash inclusive practices. Everything built slowly, painfully, and intentionally is now dismissed as “ideology” or “overcorrection.”
But I know what happens when those structures don’t exist. I lived in that world.
Inclusion is not a theory. It is practice.
It’s rethinking office space because someone needs a private place to pump breast milk.
It’s expanding parental leave—not just for mothers—because people want to be present with their newborns.
It’s listening to users who say your platform is inaccessible — and changing it.
It’s noticing whose voices go silent in a meeting — and redesigning how those meetings happen.
It’s welcoming the insights of someone who’s worked on reducing hiring bias — and implementing them.
It’s responding with support — not judgment — when a team leader says they’re overwhelmed managing a remote, multicultural team.
It is not perfect. It is not easy.
But this is how equity is built.
We can start small by letting go of abstraction and finally looking into the eyes of those around us—the ones doing the work on the ground.
Inclusion is not a slogan. It’s the ground we walk on.Oxana Pushkina is an international expert in women’s rights, gender equality, and social policy, with more than 30 years of experience in journalism. She’s also a former deputy in the Russian State Duma and a former member of the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe, where she served on the Committee on Equality and Non-Discrimination, advocating for women’s and children’s rights. She now lives in the United States. Pushkina is a Public Voices Fellow on advancing the rights of women and girls, a partnership between Equality Now and The OpEd Project.
Americans largely agree that women have made significant gains in the workplace over the past two decades. But what about men? While many Americans believe women are thriving, over half believe men’s progress has stalled or even reversed.
To make matters more complex, recent research has revealed a massive divide along gender and partisan lines. The majority of Republican men think full gender equity in America has been achieved, while the majority of Democratic women think there’s still work to be done.
As researchers at the Rutgers Center for Women in Business, we think this divide matters a lot. And for business leaders, this gap isn’t just a social or political issue. It’s a leadership challenge with direct implications for team cohesion and morale. If gender equity efforts are seen by some employees as a loss rather than a collective gain, leaders risk inadvertently entrenching division.
Efforts to advance gender equity often come with the reassurance that equality isn’t a zero-sum game – that women’s advancement need not come at men’s expense. Data backs this up, showing, for example, that having gender-diverse executive teams can boost company profits by as much as 21%.
Yet workers’ perceptions of gender equity efforts tell another story.
For example, 61% of Americans believe changing gender norms have made it easier for women to be successful at work, but only 36% say the same for men. What’s more, 61% of men think women have equal job opportunities, but only 33% of women believe the same thing.
These differences reveal an important truth: Perception, not policy alone, shapes how equity efforts are received.
Research suggests men and women associate power with different psychological outcomes. Men are more likely to associate power with control, while for women, power is more often linked to a feeling of freedom. As a result, efforts to share power may feel more liberating to women but destabilizing to men – particularly to those already in power.
But this doesn’t mean one’s gain needs to come at another’s expense – just that people make sense of change through the lens of their own identities and experiences.
When men perceive progress for women as a threat to their status or opportunity, resistance grows, even in the face of data suggesting otherwise. This cycle becomes especially difficult to break because it requires challenging one’s own beliefs, which isn’t always easy.
This is why learning about others’ experiences is so useful. For example, a man and a woman might be equally ambitious and capable, but perhaps only one of them experiences being routinely interrupted in meetings. These differences in personal history and lived experience shape how work environments are interpreted and therefore navigated.
Understanding this diversity of perspectives and discussing lived experiences can help gender equity efforts become more effective. Building a truly equitable future requires acknowledging that feelings about efforts required to reach that future may differ widely.
With that in mind, here are some best practices for leaders to consider as they navigate the changing landscape.
Avoid zero-sum thinking. If men think gender equity efforts will erode their opportunities or diminish their own power, they’ll disengage. Leaders should instead frame equity as essential to team and business success – and ground conversations in metrics that show how inclusion drives outcomes.
Know that the stakes may vary. Women may see gender equity as a matter of justice or even survival, and when stakes are existential, compromise can be difficult. At the same time, they may experience organizational progress toward gender equity as a personal win. Publicizing these changes and their mutually beneficial gains can help to create a more cohesive team where everyone can thrive.
Be aware that different clocks are ticking. Some men may view change as happening too quickly, destabilizing established norms. Women, on the other hand, may feel progress is too slow, given centuries of systemic inequity. Holding both views as worthy of respect requires teamwork. Encourage dialogue where the goal is mutual understanding rather than unity.
Promote policies that benefit everyone. By promoting policies such as hybrid work and parental leave that benefit everyone, workplaces will attract and retain a more diverse workforce, which leads to greater innovation. Encourage men to take advantage of these policies and ensure your company culture makes it acceptable to do so. This enables men to actually experience the benefit of these initiatives. Align efforts around shared values – such as the desire for healthier families, better education or stronger economies.
Use both/and thinking. Supporting men who express fears about status loss can open space for dialogue. Provide that space. At the same time, acknowledge the ongoing struggles women continue to face and their fears about workplaces returning to “the way they used to be.” One viewpoint does not need to negate the other.
Prioritize lived experience. Rather than insisting that everyone see gender equity the same way, find ways for men to experience mutually beneficial initiatives. Then, encourage dialogue about experiences rather than ideas.
Mixed mentorship matters. Pairing employees with mentors of different backgrounds – across gender, race, age, department or seniority level – can help them cultivate curiosity and learn from one another.
Activate resource groups. Groups focused on cross-cultural engagement provide employees with a platform to discuss challenges, share experiences and collaborate on inclusion initiatives. Additionally, encouraging allies to participate in employee resource groups and business resource groups fosters increased openness and understanding. Leaders can support groups by providing resources, visibility and executive sponsorship.
Embrace discomfort. In general, people work to avoid feeling uncomfortable. However, discomfort is often necessary for growth. Starting with this premise and encouraging thoughtful, open and honest discussions about sensitive topics and potential fears can help foster transparency and build trust. Leaders can facilitate these conversations through town halls, roundtable discussions or dedicated dialogue sessions.
Progress depends not just on metrics and policies but on trust, communication and humility. When people feel seen and heard – whether they’re feeling empowered or uncertain – they’re more likely to engage.
In other words, the real opportunity isn’t to win an argument about whether gender equity is “done,” but to build organizations where everyone can see a future for themselves in the workplace – and feel as if they have a role in shaping it.
Leaders Can Promote Gender Equity Without Deepening Polarization − Here’s How was originally published by The Conversation and is republished with permission.
Colleen Tolan is a postdoctoral researcher for the Center for Women in Business at Rutgers University.
Lisa Kaplowitz is an associate professor & executive director, for the Center for Women in Business at Rutgers University.
The U.S. flag, a certification of naturalization, and a U.S. passport.
“A profoundly dangerous and destabilizing thing.” That’s how Vice President J.D. Vance recently described America’s falling birthrate. Recently, the “ inherently pronatalist ” White House is considering a new set of proposals to address it—including government-funded menstrual cycle education and even a national medal for women who bear six or more children. But while Republicans may recognize the problem, their broader agenda actively undermines the most immediate and effective solution to population decline: immigration.
The Trump administration is enacting an all-out assault on immigration. Breaking from decades of Republican rhetoric that championed legal immigration, the current approach targets not just undocumented migration but legal pathways as well.
This includes suspending the refugee admissions program, revoking Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for hundreds of thousands, cancelling student visas, sharply increasing denials of high-skilled work visas, and calling to end birthright citizenship.
Even European and Canadian tourists have been detained for weeks. More recently, the administration terminated the Biden-era CHNV program, which had allowed vetted migrants from Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua, and Venezuela to enter legally. Overnight, thousands of legal entrants were rendered undocumented. Most alarming of all, the administration has denied due process to hundreds of migrants—some who entered legally or held valid protections —and shipped them indefinitely to a notorious El Salvador prison known for its human rights abuses.
This hostile climate has shaken the business community, from agriculture and construction to tech. It has also driven down tourism and cross-border travel, with economic losses projected in the billions.
Even beyond legal and ethical concerns, these policies worsen the very problem that falling birthrates have exposed: the United States needs more people, not fewer.
The U.S. total fertility rate is now around 1.6 —far below the 2.1 required to replace the population. That means fewer workers and taxpayers to support economic growth and the needs of a rapidly aging population. In 1920, there were about eight adults over age 65 for every 100 working-age residents. By 2000, that figure had risen to 20; by 2023, 29. It is projected to reach 37 by 2040. This growing imbalance will put increasing pressure on programs like Social Security and Medicare—and on the federal budget—in the years to come.
Countries like Hungary, Japan, and China have poured billions into cash incentives and fertility treatments, yet none have succeeded in sustainably raising fertility rates. Recent Republican proposals fall into this same ineffective category. Meanwhile, the few proven policies—like childcare subsidies and paid family leave —rarely get Republican support in the U.S.
Increasing fertility in the short term is unlikely. Raising the retirement age is a political third rail. That leaves immigration as the only realistic way to grow the population and sustain economic momentum. Without it, we would already be in population decline. Between 2022 and 2023, all U.S. population growth came from immigration—a first since the census began tracking nativity in 1850.
The country’s 55 largest metro areas recently reversed their shrinking trend, thanks almost entirely to immigrants. Census Bureau projections make the stakes clear: without new immigration, we will lose population every year through the end of the century. Researchers at the Wharton School estimate that to stabilize our aging workforce, we would need to more than triple current immigration levels.
Immigrants don’t just replenish our numbers—they help fund the government programs most threatened by demographic decline. In 2023 alone, immigrants contributed an estimated $650 billion in taxes, including more than $300 billion to Social Security and Medicare. This has a net positive impact because immigrants, unlike native-born Americans, pay far more in taxes than they receive in benefits. Yet despite this, the IRS has reportedly begun sharing immigrant taxpayer data with ICE—an unprecedented move that could deter compliance and cost the government billions in lost revenue, and one that has drawn bipartisan concern, including from the George W. Bush Institute.
But their economic impact goes far beyond what they contribute in taxes. Immigrants make up 38 percent of all workers in STEM occupations and 34 percent of all healthcare workers. Nearly half of Fortune 500 companies were founded by immigrants or their children, and 60 percent of the top AI companies in the U.S. have at least one immigrant founder.
Given the chance, most countries would gladly welcome our demographic advantages. Nations like China and South Korea are facing even more dire population decline—with no influx of newcomers to offset the downturn. The U.S. is different: we have long attracted and successfully integrated people from around the world, making immigration a cornerstone of our economic, cultural, and geopolitical strength. But rather than protect this advantage, the Trump administration is actively dismantling it—shutting down legal pathways, vilifying newcomers, and poisoning public sentiment.
This is not just shortsighted. It’s a self-inflicted wound that undermines our long-term national interests.
Immigration policy will remain politically contentious. But if we care about economic growth, the solvency of Social Security, and national competitiveness, we need to stop treating immigration as a threat—and start treating it as the demographic lifeline it is.
This means that Congress must wrest back its legislative authority from an increasingly power-hungry executive branch. If congressional Republicans care about our long-term demographic and economic prospects, they need to work across the aisle to pass real legislation. Immigration cannot be fixed through executive orders, especially when policy shifts with each administration. Democrats, too, should be ready to collaborate.
To make meaningful progress, Congress should begin by restoring and reinforcing the legal pathways already in place. Lawmakers should act to protect long-term TPS holders and stabilize refugee admissions through legislation, as several existing proposals have already outlined. They should also provide a permanent solution for Dreamers, the nearly 600,000 young immigrants currently protected under the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program.
Created in 2012, DACA shields eligible immigrants brought to the U.S. as children from deportation and allows them to work legally. Trump attempted to terminate the program during his first term and has signaled he would do so again. A legislative fix would not only safeguard existing recipients but could also extend protection to many other undocumented young people who were excluded. The U.S. Chamber of Commerce has warned that ending DACA would be “ a nightmare for America’s economy,” and a recent poll found that large majorities of voters—including Republicans—support bipartisan legislation to provide Dreamers a path to legal status and eventual citizenship.
These actions are just the beginning. Our immigration system has not been meaningfully updated since 1986. Congress should ambitiously revisit the kind of comprehensive immigration reform that once drew bipartisan support—including, perhaps surprisingly, from then-Senator Marco Rubio. The 2013 “ Gang of Eight” legislation would have modernized our legal immigration system to better reflect labor market needs, strengthened enforcement at the border, and provided an earned path to legal status for undocumented immigrants living in the U.S. Though the bill ultimately stalled in the House, its framework remains a model for balanced reform.
In today’s climate, legislation and bipartisanship may seem like relics of a bygone era—but those are exactly the tools we need to solve a problem as complex as immigration. Reviving that approach would restore congressional leadership on national challenges and signal a serious commitment to America’s demographic and economic future.
Matthew Blanton is a Ph.D. candidate in sociology and demography at the University of Texas at Austin. His research on migration and demographic change has been published in peer-reviewed academic journals and news outlets like The Boston Globe and The Hill. Previously, he led a nonprofit organization in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala, and worked for the National Immigration Forum on a bipartisan immigration reform campaign.
