In a powerful interview with The Chicago Defender, national DEI leader Paulette Granberry Russell discusses civil rights, student activism, and the urgent threats facing American democracy and higher education under Trump-era executive orders (Photo Courtesy of the National Association of Diversity Officers in Higher Education).
By James S. Bridgeforth, Ph.D. and Alexander Efird
The battle over free speech and the future of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) in America has reached a boiling point. Just last month, Harvard University filed a lawsuit against the Trump administration, challenging what it calls an unconstitutional federal overreach—threatening to withhold funds unless the university dismantles all DEI programs. Days later, more than 150 college and university presidents signed an open letter denouncing the administration’s actions. In a rare moment of unity, dozens of public institutions have also joined the fight, vowing to resist federal attempts to restrict academic freedom and equal opportunity.
Higher education in America predates the very founding of the country. Established in 1636, Harvard University was the first institution of higher learning in the original colonies—and nearly 400 years later, it remains one of the most recognized and respected universities in the world. Over those centuries, American higher education has transformed from an elite system built exclusively for white men into one of the nation’s most effective engines for equity, inclusion and social mobility.
That transformation did not come easily. It was earned through protest, through policy, and, in many cases, through blood. From the fight for women’s suffrage to the struggle for Black Americans to gain access to education, higher education has stood at the frontlines of progress. It has remained the most consistent and powerful pathway to opportunity—especially for women, first-generation students and communities of color.
But in just the past 90 days, the federal government has mounted an aggressive campaign to dismantle that progress—falsely declaring DEI initiatives to be illegal and seeking to eliminate equal access to education for millions of Americans.
This month, The Chicago Defender sat down for a candid and timely conversation with Paulette Granberry Russell, J.D., president of the National Association of Diversity Officers in Higher Education (NADOHE). A veteran advocate and national thought leader, Granberry Russell has emerged as one of the most influential voices defending the role of DEI in higher education. Under her leadership, NADOHE has become the leading voice for chief diversity officers across the country—fighting not only to preserve hard-won progress but to advance it in the face of unprecedented challenges.
In this exclusive interview, she shares her insights, her warnings, and her unwavering belief in the power of higher education to shape a just and equitable future.
James Bridgeforth: Hello Ms. Granberry Russell, how are you doing today?
Paulette Granberry Russell: I’m doing great, thank you.
Bridgeforth: My name is James Bridgeforth and I’m writing as a contributing columnist for The Chicago Defender, which is the nation’s oldest African American newspaper. We are doing a series on the State of Democracy and Diversity in the United States. Over the past few weeks, we have interviewed modern civil rights leaders such as Al Sharpton, Opal Lee, and Attorney Ben Crump. And today we are very excited to have a conversation with you too. I’ll ask Alex, my co-author, for this series to introduce himself and we will get started.
Alexander Efird: Good afternoon. My name is Alex Efird. I am a senior at Virginia Tech majoring in political science and smart and sustainable cities. I’m very excited to talk with you this afternoon. Thank you for spending time with us today.
Granberry Russell: Well, let me first say that I’m very pleased by The Chicago Defender for reaching out and reaching out to me particularly. I am familiar with The Chicago Defender and its historical significance in the African-American community. So, I’m ready and anxious to get going.
Bridgeforth: One of the things we want all of our interviewees to know is that, given everything happening in the national press today, this is not an adversarial interview. Our conversation is intended to be engaging, thoughtful, and insightful for our readers. We aim to explore various perspectives on the state of our democracy in a non-partisan way. Around the office, we like to call this “Good Press.” Our goal is to create a space where people feel comfortable sharing their thoughts—regardless of ideology or background—because we believe that diversity of perspectives and the protection of free speech are essential to a healthy democracy.
Granberry Russell: Thank you.
Bridgeforth: First and foremost, thank you for your tireless work on behalf of our country and our higher education system. In recent months, your leadership in advancing civil rights, equity, diversity and inclusion has been especially critical, and I want to acknowledge that. On behalf of not only the higher education community but also countless others across the country who feel silenced right now, we deeply appreciate the work you’re doing.
Now, for our first question: You lived through the civil rights era of the late 20th century. Having experienced that period firsthand, how would you characterize this current moment in our nation’s history—where there appears to be a significant backlash against diversity, equity and inclusion?
Granberry Russell: I can’t say I disagree with the sentiment—it really does feel like we’re moving backward, to an era I thought we had long since left behind. I was born in the 1950s and raised by parents who came north during the Great Migration. My great-great-grandparents were formerly enslaved. I’ve lived my whole life in Michigan, believing we had made real progress.
So, this moment we’re in—it’s not one I ever expected to live through again, especially given my family’s history and the sacrifices of so many who fought to dismantle lawful discrimination. And it’s not just about those of us descended from enslaved people—it’s also about those who stood alongside us in that fight.
To me, and I know too many others, it feels like we’re heading in the wrong direction. We’re at a critical point in this country’s history. I know we’ll continue exploring this throughout the interview, and I appreciate you recognizing the work our organization is doing to push back.
Bridgeforth: Building on your earlier response, I want to turn to a concern shared by many across the country—particularly within higher education. There are a growing number of students, faculty and administrators who are dismayed and deeply troubled by the current racial climate in America. What advice would you offer to them? What actions should they be taking right now?
Granberry Russell: Several things. First—we cannot retreat. I worry that we’re at risk of doing just that. The attacks on diversity, equity and inclusion have been weaponized, falsely equated with unlawful discrimination and demonized in the public narrative. We must organize. I’m grateful to follow leaders like Reverend Sharpton, who understand the power of mobilization. But we need a renewed movement—what I see as a new civil rights movement—built on sustained, committed advocacy and civic action.
When people ask how I stay in this work, I say: I know no other way. I was raised to believe that I am just as worthy and capable as anyone else—and that denying me opportunity based on race or gender isn’t just unfair, it’s unlawful. That foundation shaped my life and career. Over time, I’ve come to understand that embedded in our Constitution—through the First and Fourteenth Amendments—is not just protection but responsibility. College students were vital to the original civil rights movement, and today’s generation must understand their role in continuing that legacy.
Let’s be clear: discussions about revoking birthright citizenship are terrifying. The idea that generations of people born here could be denied rights—that should alarm everyone. So again, don’t retreat—organize. Change happens at the ballot box, in the workplace and through grassroots activism.
We also must hold institutions accountable—especially universities and corporations. Too many are quietly retreating from their commitments to diversity, equity and inclusion. What we once believed to be principled efforts often now seem performative. We need transparency—particularly around hiring and layoffs. People hired on merit are being pushed out through buyouts or other tactics, and we must ask why.
That also means engaging in honest, respectful public discourse. Debate can be passionate—but it must be civil. Today’s rhetoric often aims to demean, to silence, to intimidate. When people fear being doxxed or threatened just for speaking out, we have a serious problem.
I lead an organization that has chosen to fight back. And yes—it is frightening. But we all must recognize what’s at stake if we don’t.
Bridgeforth: Your comments are really insightful, which leads to the next question perfectly. We’re seeing numerous executive orders, now, that are being interpreted as law. I’m curious, what do you think people and institutions can do to push back against some of these executive orders and specifically to that second part. Is there a role for public higher education in that conversation?
Granberry Russell: Yes—on February 3, we filed a lawsuit seeking a preliminary injunction against two executive orders issued by President Trump. We were prepared for this moment. For over two years, we’ve watched states introduce and pass “anti-DEI” bills, steadily dismantling diversity efforts in higher education. So, whether through state legislation that is introduced and passed or federal executive orders, the fight is the same.
Advocacy groups—and I’ll include The Chicago Defender in this—have a responsibility to interrogate these issues and push for clarity. We must help the public understand that DEI isn’t radical or discriminatory, as the Trump administration suggests. That language is designed to mislead and distract from the broader goal: building a more just democracy.
Efird: How do we get white people like me to be engaged in this fight to push back on these policies that we’ve seen come out over the last couple of weeks from this administration?
Granberry Russell: The best way to answer that is for white people to understand that diversity, equity and inclusion includes and benefits them as well.
Despite what some narratives suggest, diversity, equity and inclusion is about ensuring everyone has access and opportunity—whether in education, the workplace or public life. And the truth is, differences benefit all of us.
In a global economy, cultural competence is critical. For example, it matters just as much for you to know how to market to me as it does for me to market to you. But you can’t get there if you buy into false narratives—like the idea that Black people, or women or LGBTQ+ individuals are monolithic.
They’re not.
Conservatives, as we witnessed in the last national election, extends across various demographics, and diversity exists among MAGA supporters. Our histories and experiences are complex, and it’s just as important for white people to understand they benefit from efforts to support diversity in this country as well.
Efird: Let me take this question a bit further, do you believe that our democracy is at risk due to the recent federal and state level rollbacks on diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives?
Granberry Russell: Absolutely.
The current administration is issuing and acting on executive orders with vague, undefined terms that diminish our freedom of speech, the right to protest, develop curriculum on subjects they deem to be divisive, conduct research that is “radical and wasteful” that address inequities among marginalized groups—provisions that lower courts are now deeming unconstitutional. And if the courts, our last line of defense, are calling these efforts illegal, then yes, our democracy is at risk.
If you can’t define DEI but label it as illegal—and then attach punishment like the loss of federal funding—you’re not leading with clarity or fairness. That’s not how democracy works. And if leaders don’t understand the implications of their own actions, that raises serious questions about their qualifications.
What happens next?
Institutions shut down programs out of fear of losing millions in funding. And when students exercising their First Amendment rights are being detained or silenced—that’s not democracy. That’s not what this country was built on. So, are we at risk? Yes, we are.
Bridgeforth: The way you laid that out—almost with a pastoral passion—was incredibly powerful. You can feel the weight of what’s happening in your words. Staying with that theme of politics: there was a lot of noise before the election about Black men voting for Trump. I don’t think that’s the full story, but I’d love your take. What should Black men be doing right now to push back, uplift, and mobilize our communities? What advice do you have for us?
Granberry Russell: Let’s talk about it—I’m the mother of a Black son, and that passion drives how I see this work. Black men are not the enemy. My son, my brother, my nephews—they deserve to be heard, and we need to amplify their voices. But just like Black women or white folks, Black men are not monolithic.
From my experience as a Black mother, the three biggest areas I emphasize with my son are economic empowerment, civic engagement and generational wealth. And civic engagement looks different now. Influencers—especially Black men—have real power to shape narratives and inspire action.
We also need to expand how we define success. I was the first in my family to attend college, but my brother—who’s worked at Ford for over 50 years—is just as accomplished. Not everyone needs a four-year degree to make a difference. We must value all forms of contribution in our community.
I’ve had the honor of mentoring a young Black man who went from a Southern public university to Harvard. He reminds me how powerful our guidance can be. We all have a responsibility to the next generation. And trust me, my own son never lets me forget that—with love, of course.
Efird: Shifting to a different perspective for a moment—according to election data, 53% of white women voted for the current president in the last election. From your viewpoint, why do you think that was?
Granberry Russell: As my mother used to say, that’s the $64,000 question—I’m not sure I have a definitive answer.
It reminds me of the early days of affirmative action when states began passing laws to remove race as a factor in employment and admissions. I was in Michigan when a constitutional amendment like that passed, and a significant number of white women voted for it. That was disheartening.
It makes me wonder—does race, at times, outweigh gender? I don’t think we have enough research to fully explain why so many white women lean toward these political shifts. So no, I can’t say I have a clear answer to that question, Alex.
I have a very diverse group of sisters—and I call them that because that’s how we live among each other. Women from all kinds of backgrounds—different races, faiths, sexual identity, abilities. And these are women who’ve done their work. When I say that, I mean they’ve taken the time to understand other people’s lived experiences, even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially when it’s uncomfortable.
And those of us in this circle—we give each other grace, but we also call each other out. When one of my white women friends says or does something that causes discomfort, I let her know. Not out of anger, but out of love, out of responsibility. And she does the same with me. That’s what it means to be “in community.” It’s not about making it “safe.”
This idea that we’re creating so-called “safe spaces” gets used by critics to discredit what we’re trying to do in higher education. But it’s not about safety in that sense. It’s about being honest. It’s about recognizing that our differences are real, and sometimes those differences bring pain. Sometimes they bring joy.
And sometimes, we bring our own assumptions into a space and try to put those on someone else. That’s human—but the work is learning to see it and do better.
And that work doesn’t just happen. You have to create it. Deliberately. That’s what higher education is meant to do. It’s supposed to be a place where you’re challenged, where you’re exposed to people who don’t look like you, think like you, pray like you. And where you’re expected to grow because of that.
When we say we value diversity, it can’t just be about enrollment numbers. It has to show up in how we support people. That means making sure the food on campus respects different dietary needs. That means having accessible technology so everyone can learn. That means understanding that some students have families, and they may need different kinds of flexibility.
And yes, that includes our veterans, many of whom are older, non-traditional students who show up with their own lived experience. All of this matters. All of this is part of building an inclusive learning environment.
And maybe—maybe—if more people had those kinds of experiences, if they really stepped out of their comfort zones, I could better answer the question about why white women are voting in ways that go against this work. But the truth is, I think that discomfort is exactly why some people are trying so hard to tear all this down.
Bridgeforth: You mentioned women, which is a perfect transition into our next question focused on leadership in higher education. Over the past year, we’ve seen college presidents—most notably at Harvard and Penn—called before Congress and, in some cases, pressured to resign. In your view, what role should a college president play in this broader fight?
Granberry Russell: Well, it gets complicated, doesn’t it? Especially now—when budgets and endowments are under threat—college presidents can be hauled before Congress and treated as if they’re undermining democracy rather than defending it. We’ve entered a culture of fear, where standing your ground as a leader can lead to punishment. Defending your institution has become a hazard.
We’re watching presidents of elite institutions—places with 300 or 400 years of history—become targets of political agendas determined to dismantle higher education as we know it. And when you’re responsible for protecting an institution’s legacy, reputation and finances, the pressure to stay cautious is real.
But here’s the risk: if leaders don’t step up, higher education as we know it could vanish.
If you can’t challenge ideas, if curriculum becomes a political landmine, if accreditation depends on appeasing outside forces—we lose the very purpose of education. It’s a tightrope walk, every single day. But when leaders give ground, more is always demanded. That’s the lesson. And if you haven’t learned it yet, you’d better be paying attention.
Claudine Gay, the first Black president in Harvard University’s history, resigned after just six months—the shortest presidency in the university’s history (Photo Credit: Office of Governor Healey, Flickr).
Efird: Thank you—your insights have been incredibly powerful.
In the 1960s, college students played a major role in advancing the civil rights movement. As you mentioned earlier, what do you believe the role of today’s college students should be in continuing that legacy? And what message would you share with students like me who want to be engaged in the ongoing fight for civil rights?
Granberry Russell: I say to you—get out there. Whether it’s your voice in the classroom or out in the community, use it. I know from personal experience how powerful speaking out can be.
And I also know that without students raising their voices, we risk losing ground. As uncomfortable as student activism can feel at times, students have always been the rightful stewards of progress. It’s student voices that have driven changes in curriculum, created academic and wellness supports and demanded recognition of nontraditional needs—like family, cultural background and learning styles.
There’s no one-size-fits-all approach, but when students advocate for living and learning experiences that help them thrive and graduate, it matters. That’s the goal: success on their own terms.
We have a responsibility, once we admit students, to support their success—within reason. And if that means sitting in, then sit in. If it means marching, march. If it means showing up to a board of trustees meeting and making your case—do it. But come prepared. There’s too much at stake to be reckless.
Give me reasons I can’t say no. And yes, sometimes you’ll need to come back again and again. That’s part of it—this give and take. It’s what powered the early civil rights movement, and sometimes, like those who walked for over 300 days in Montgomery, you have to draw a line and say, “No more,” and stay with it until change comes.
Bridgeforth: Thank you for sharing that. You touched on this earlier, but we didn’t get to fully explore it. As a journalist and columnist myself, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this: What do you believe is the role of journalists in this moment in our nation’s history? And how would you like to see us show up during this time?
Granberry Russell: I want you to get the messaging right. I want you to truly understand what’s at stake. And sometimes that means doing your homework—pressing people like me for real examples of what we stand to lose if we don’t clearly communicate the value of this work.
You have a responsibility to challenge those trying to dismantle generations of progress and civil rights. I once asked a reporter how I could help them better understand what is at stake, and they told me, “Give me examples of what you do.”
If I can’t explain this in a way that resonates beyond higher education, I’ve failed. We don’t live in an ivory tower—our work impacts the world beyond campus. And if I can’t tell that story, that’s on me. But if you don’t ask the right questions—that’s on you.
Efird: As we continue this series on the state of our democracy and diversity, your insights have been incredibly valuable—thank you for sharing them. Given the depth of this conversation, who do you believe we should speak with next to gain an essential perspective on this topic?
Granberry Russell: Have you talked with students? One of the things NADOHE was able to do, thanks to several grants, was launch a project focused on the future of diversity, equity and inclusion in higher education. And a big part of that effort? Elevating student voices. We asked them directly: What does this work mean to you? What should it look like moving forward?
We brought together more than 400 students—both in person and virtually—for nearly six hours of deep, honest conversation. And let me tell you, they were crystal clear about what matters to them.
They want belonging. They want inclusion. They want cultural relevance to be a priority.
They called for intentional and meaningful leadership. They want their voices not only heard but elevated. And they’re holding institutions accountable demanding that we follow through on the promises we make.
They also asked for consistent, dedicated spaces where they can have the real, hard conversations—without judgment, without fear.
If students are telling us what they need, then we have a responsibility to listen—and to act. Yes, it’s important to hear from leaders like me. But let’s be clear: students are leading in phenomenal ways too. If you haven’t talked to them yet, you should.
And let me add this— If the media had engaged more with a broader cross-section of students, we’d be hearing a very different story on the impact of diversity efforts in higher education. Sure, some voices align with what has been reported in terms of where such efforts have failed—but others are calling for peaceful, thoughtful dialogue and change.
Students are engaging across cultures, having real, serious conversations about what’s happening in our world. But we don’t hear enough of those stories.
A Legacy of Resistance, A Future Worth Fighting For
In the course of this conversation, Paulette Granberry Russell did more than just issue a call to action—she reminded us of the soul of higher education and the role it must continue to play in preserving American democracy. Her words, drawn from a lifetime of advocacy and anchored in deep personal history, serve as both a warning and a light.
The stakes have never been higher. At a time when our nation seems determined to relitigate battles we thought had long been won, Granberry Russell urges us not to retreat—but to rise. To organize. To amplify voices that have too often been silenced. And most importantly, to listen to the students who are already leading.
If democracy is a promise, then higher education is its most faithful steward. As campuses across the country become battlegrounds for justice once again, the message is clear: This fight is not new—but it is ours. And in the words of those who marched before us, we must keep going. Not because it is easy, but because it is right.
There is hope in this moment. Not just in institutions or policies, but in people—in students who speak up, in educators who stand firm, and in leaders like Paulette Granberry Russell, who refuse to back down.
History is watching. And so is the future.
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