Higher education claims to be a space for learning, growth, and inclusion, yet for students like me, it often reinforces exclusion. My existence is politicized, my identity is dissected, and my presence is questioned. Diversity is often performative, and representation without real support is meaningless.
On campus, microaggressions are routine. A Black peer once picked me for a student panel, saying, “We need representation,” reducing me to my queer masculinity—as if my intelligence, leadership, and insights were secondary. The comment mirrored how my Blackness is degraded in white spaces, my identity reduced to appearance rather than substance. My refusal to conform makes me hyper-visible in exhausting ways, but it is also my silent protest.
Recent rollbacks on DEI initiatives have made higher education even more exclusionary. Safe spaces for marginalized students were eliminated. Cultural competency training for faculty was cut, leaving students of color vulnerable to ignorance and insensitivity. Conversations on systemic racism and gender inclusivity were dismissed as unnecessary. These were not just policy changes but attempts to erase narratives that challenged the status quo.
Systemic inequities in higher education demand more than performative diversity statements. They require real structural change. Reinstating DEI initiatives is not about political correctness but academic freedom, mental health, and economic mobility. Students need culturally competent counseling services that validate their lived experiences and support their educational success. They need financial aid policies that acknowledge generational wealth disparities. They need faculty trained to recognize the nuanced ways racism and homophobia manifest in academic spaces.
So, I continue to take up space in institutions that were never built for me. My existence is an act of defiance, and my presence is a testament to resistance. The future of education depends on institutions moving beyond tokenism and committing to real change.