The Changing DEI Landscape: The Challenge of Finding Steady Footing 

Day after day, I’m bombarded with alarming headlines: “BREAKING NEWS!” Another tariff imposed. Another restriction announced. We’re still within the first 100 days of the Trump presidency, and already, everything feels bleak.

As a first-generation American and a young woman aspiring to study healthcare, the future I had once envisioned now feels uncertain. I had dreamed of conducting research as an undergraduate, but recent funding cuts have made those opportunities more limited. I had hoped to work with government health organizations like the NIH or CDC—institutions I once saw as beacons of public service, but they are now facing political constraints and shifting leadership under figures like RFK Jr.

Rules and protections that once stood to safeguard people are being dismantled. It’s frightening. Even here at Penn, where women slightly outnumber men, I still notice gender imbalances—in classes, clubs, and especially in leadership roles within fields like engineering and finance. There are still too few women in the room.

The national debate around Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) only adds to the tension. Americans are deeply divided on DEI Programs—some think that DEI prioritizes race or gender above merit and skill; others say it is necessary for unity and inclusivity.

While some DEI efforts are sparking outrage, I don’t think completely removing them is the solution. When done correctly, it can make a huge difference for people to help those from diverse backgrounds feel safe. It can boost productivity by strengthening worker retention and making employees feel comfortable enough to reach their potential. DEI is still relatively new, so the policies aren’t perfect and need much more work to develop, but they are a step in the right direction. Deeply rooted systemic inequalities have caused the gap between different groups to widen, and this is an effort to try to close that gap.

DEI is a complex topic with many nuances to consider. The intersectionality of my identities puts me at an advantage and disadvantage when it comes to DEI. On the one hand, I am a first-generation citizen, a child of immigrants, a person of color, and a female-identifying person. On the other hand, I am a model minority, come from a stable socioeconomic background, and have been educated at elite institutions.

While some DEI efforts have sparked outrage, I don’t believe eliminating them entirely is the answer. When implemented thoughtfully, DEI can make a real difference. It helps people from diverse backgrounds feel seen, safe, and supported. It can also improve outcomes—when people feel like they belong, they’re more likely to stay, contribute, and reach their full potential.

DEI is still a relatively new and evolving field. The policies aren’t perfect and need refining, but they represent a step in the right direction. Deeply rooted systemic inequalities have widened the gap between different communities. DEI is one attempt to close that gap.

It’s a complicated issue, especially for someone like me. The intersectionality of my identity places me both at an advantage and a disadvantage. I am a first-generation American, a child of immigrants, and a woman of color. But I also benefit from the privileges of being a so-called “model minority.” I come from a stable socioeconomic background and have been educated at elite institutions.

When I was applying to college, I struggled with the concept of Affirmative Action. The policy was overturned the summer I began my applications—a decision that was supposed to benefit people like me.

I remember being told to “hide” my race on applications if I could and not checking “East Asian” if it wasn’t required. But with a common Chinese last name, that wasn’t exactly an option. Some students began checking “Mixed” or “Pacific Islander” to distinguish themselves from the stereotype of the “high-achieving but robotic” Asian student.

Asian Americans occupy a complex space in conversations about race and equity. Many are first-generation college students, children of immigrants, and come from working-class families—yet they are often expected to excel academically. I knew so many kids growing up who would spend their afternoons helping out at the family restaurant before starting their homework late into the night.

I’ve been lucky. My parents have always supported me, and I’ve had access to resources that have helped me succeed. But my path hasn’t been without struggle. My parents didn’t know how the college admissions process worked. They only began to understand it through friends and neighbors. In elementary school, I was translating mail and writing emails for them. When I was learning the alphabet in preschool, my mom was learning it too—sitting beside me, sounding out the letters.

So why is it that so many Asian American children excel in school despite starting from behind? Because, for many immigrant families, education is everything. It’s seen as the one path to stability, to success, to belonging. But that emphasis on achievement can come with a cost. Asian Americans are often held to impossibly high standards and reduced to stereotypes of being hardworking, quiet, and academically robotic. These assumptions flatten our experiences and erase the struggles that many Asian American families face—like language barriers, financial pressure, or a lack of institutional support.

This complexity is why DEI efforts are so necessary, yet so often misunderstood. Even for communities that appear successful on paper, like Asian Americans, there are unique challenges that policies must account for. And for others—whether they are women entering male-dominated industries or students from lower-income backgrounds—the barriers may look different, but they are no less real.

Even those who benefit from DEI policies may feel conflicted. There’s a growing discomfort among students and professionals who are made to feel like they’ve only earned a position because of their identity—not their qualifications. The term “DEI hire” can be used dismissively, as if someone’s background negates their effort or ability. That kind of backlash can discourage people from even pursuing the opportunities that were created to help level the playing field.

As someone who holds many privileges, I constantly remind myself that what we call “merit” is often just a reflection of opportunity. Not everyone has the freedom to dedicate hours to studying. Some have to work jobs, care for siblings, or navigate systems their families don’t understand. DEI isn’t about giving people a shortcut; it’s about recognizing the obstacles in their path and making it possible for them to compete on equal footing.