“No person in the United States shall, on the ground of race, color or national origin, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any program or activity receiving federal financial assistance.” 1964 Civil Rights Act 42 U.S.C. § 2000d.
By executive order, the Trump administration has called for an end to “dangerous, demeaning, and immoral” diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) schemes.
Growing up, my cultural identity was nurtured by my family, but when I stepped beyond the safeguards of home, my experiences as an undergrad and grad student were revealing. My journey was marked by the absence of Latina representation in required texts and academic spaces. Revolutionary figures like U.S. Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor, U.S. Surgeon General Antonia Coello Novello, writer Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, and others were glaringly omitted.
I found my sense of self through cultural organizations, not classrooms. These spaces allowed me to revel with fellow first-generation Latinas who shared the struggle of finding cultural affirmation in Spanglish conversations, shared traditions, and the quest of shattering the glass ceiling.
The history of higher education in the United States has been marked by systemic barriers to access and opportunity for BIPOC communities. Many students, researchers, and staff from marginalized backgrounds have historically faced exclusion, racism, and isolation within institutions that were originally designed to serve the interests of privileged elites. Cultural organizations at historically white institutions (HWIs) play a critical role in countering these historic inequities by offering safe spaces for individuals to connect, share experiences, and support each other in both academic and personal growth.
However, as Diversity, Equity, Inclusion and Access (DEIA) standards come under attack, these protected classes face unique challenges, compounded by declining national enrollment rates. In this precarious landscape, cultural organizations and BIPOC Greek letter organizations must resolve, like Langston Hughes, to “Let America be America Again.”
For the past two years I’ve served as a community leader for the Yale School of Medicine’s Latino Recovery Colectivo. Yale’s Latino Colectivo provides not only a sense of belonging and identity but also an avenue for fostering inclusivity and empowerment in environments that have historically been dominated by white voices.
As pushbacks on inclusion and access policies intensify and funding for such initiatives faces cuts, their capacity to support students in an increasingly hostile climate could be strained, especially when resources are increasingly allocated to programs that focus on a narrow vision of “meritocracy” or colorblindness.
As national enrollment rates continue to decline, institutions might also view such organizations through the lens of “cost-effectiveness,” questioning whether these programs are worth maintaining in a more competitive and financially uncertain climate.
Institutions like Yale, which have invested in inclusion and access initiatives in various forms, including supporting groups like the Colectivo, will undoubtedly face significant pressures to adapt. The mission of organizations like the Colectivo —to uplift Latino researchers and community voices, ensure equitable access to resources, and advocate for systemic change— could be compromised if institutional policies shift away from prioritizing equity. For example, the Colectivo may find itself without the necessary resources to provide services, advocacy, and networking opportunities for its members, all of which are vital in navigating the pressures of medical school and academia.
Cultural Greek letter organizations also play a crucial role in assisting BIPOC students and communities. These volunteer organizations —beginning with the Divine Nine in the early 1900s— have served as lifelines for marginalized communities, fostering identity, academic resilience, and solidarity.
Latine and Hispanic Greek letter academic organizations, established as early as the 1970s, hold a unique place in this legacy. Cultural Sororities like Alpha Sigma Omega Latina Sorority, Inc and others have played a pivotal role in fostering community, promoting academic excellence, and advocating for social justice. Culturally responsive organizations provide a critical space for students to celebrate their heritage, navigate systemic challenges, and develop leadership skills that extend beyond the collegiate environment. These multicultural organizations also empower students to create meaningful change both on and off campus.
When I founded Alpha Sigma Omega Latina Sorority, Inc. (ASOLSI) at Syracuse University, I embraced the role of being a student in the institution, not of the institution. This distinction was critical as I navigated systemic indifference and sought to create an empowering space for Latinas and women of diverse backgrounds.
Through initiatives like mentoring programs for first-generation college students, community workshops on civic engagement, and scholarship opportunities for underrepresented women, the organization has established itself as a beacon of hope and progress.
Alpha Sigma Omega also emphasizes community service through thousands of hours annually, partnering with local and national organizations to address pressing issues such as food insecurity, literacy, and voter education. For example, we’ve coordinated annual drives to collect educational resources for underserved schools and led campaigns to increase awareness of health disparities affecting Latine communities. Our commitment to systemic change is evident in our advocacy for reform and educational equity, ensuring that members are not only academically prepared but also socially conscious leaders.
Protections against discrimination have existed in this country for some 60 years. For instance, Executive Order 11246, signed by President Lyndon Johnson on September 24, 1965, established requirements for non-discriminatory practices in hiring and employment. This landmark protection was rescinded on January 21, 2025.
In response to the rescission of Executive Order 11246, three Democratic leaders posted a joint statement that said revoking the order “ignores the day-to-day reality of discrimination for many working people in this country. Common sense practices, such as monitoring hiring and promotions decisions, skills-based hiring, standardized interview practices, and robust recruitment, remain lawful and important ways to promote the goals of our nation’s laws and founding principles.”
As fiscal constraints and systemic challenges mount, institutions must prioritize investing in students as individuals, not just as funding data sets. Cultural organizations are not anomalies; we are essential. Shutting us down undermines the enriched, community-driven experiences preserved in our inherited Herstories. Instead, we must resist these attacks by amplifying our transformative work and insisting on the value of human connection.
Rather than shutting down academically enriched student-lead organizations that built better because we know better about our communities, we should resist.
Rather than shunning the need for human interaction and the possibility of becoming all that we were born to be, resist.
DEIA initiatives have built a legacy for first-generation students and generations to come. To dismantle these achievements is to disregard our collective birthright. As cultural organizations, we must resist these efforts by empowering inclusive spaces, and continuing to lead with conscience and intent.
In doing so, we honor our past, sustain our present, and secure our future.
Doris Maldonado Mendez is a member of the Connecticut Mirror’s Community Editorial Board.