I Am Disgusted. Disheartened. Deterred. Defeated.

Recently, a respected faculty member at the University of South Florida retired after being placed on administrative leave—an action meant to “allow for a thorough review.” Let’s call it what it is: a quiet push out, a silencing, a chilling reminder of where we are right now. Among the statements that sparked the controversy was this:

“Even though I eliminated my title, I didn't eliminate my job. That didn't change anything that I was doing already.”“As long as it works, that's what we do.”

And with that—words that spoke more to commitment than defiance—he was gone.

This is more than just a personnel decision. It is symptomatic of a larger issue that is ripping through academia, healthcare, social work, and every profession centered on people and community. It’s a rejection of the values I was trained to uphold as a social worker. And it’s terrifying.

I am nauseated—yes, physically sick—by the thought that standing for what’s right can now get you fired. That centering equity, compassion, and inclusivity can now lead to professional consequences and even legal persecution. That advocating for those pushed to the margins is now being politicized into something punishable.

My heart breaks.

It breaks for our leaders who stood tall for Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) and are now being hunted, demonized, and persecuted. It breaks because we know the value of DEI—it isn’t abstract. It’s real. It saves lives.

In healthcare, DEI is not just a philosophy—it’s a necessity. Leaders like Mr. Brown were training future doctors concepts like how to provide culturally competent care. This is how we fight implicit bias. This is how we ensure that a Black woman experiencing heart attack symptoms is believed and treated, not sent home to die. Because yes—heart disease is the leading cause of death among women, and women of color are disproportionately dying. Not because their bodies fail them, but because our systems do. This is why DEI in medicine matters. This is why inclusive healthcare research matters. This is why representation matters.

And the assault isn’t just on healthcare. It’s happening in our schools. With the dismantling of DEI programs and the hollowing out of the Department of Education, we are watching the door to opportunity slam shut on students with disabilities, on students living in generational poverty, on students who don’t see themselves in the curriculum. The Step-Up programs that help marginalized students read on level? Gone. And then we’ll blame the students for "underachieving," as if we didn’t systemically starve them of support.

DEI Is Social Work.

Let me be painfully clear: Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion is not an “add-on” to social work. It is the essence of our profession. It’s not a workshop we attend once a year. It’s not a checkbox on a form. DEI is baked into every single fiber of what it means to be a social worker. Without it, we are nothing more than performative helpers, applying band-aids to gaping wounds.

Our Code of Ethics demands it. Our training centers it. Our communities need it.

To strip DEI from social work is to gut the profession entirely.

We are taught to meet people where they are. We are taught to see the systems that hurt them, the policies that trap them, the histories that follow them. We are taught to name racism, to name poverty, to name oppression—not as theoretical concepts but as daily realities our clients face.

Social work without DEI is malpractice.

When we talk about equity, we are talking about survival. We are talking about the foster child who needs a therapist that understands racial trauma. We are talking about the refugee family navigating a system that was never built for them. We are talking about LGBTQ+ youth being turned away from shelters. We are talking about disabled adults being funneled into institutions rather than supported to live freely in their communities.

This is DEI. This is social work.

And now, our profession is being asked to divorce itself from the very values that define it.

We are being told not to say “diversity.” Not to talk about race. Not to talk about systems. To keep it “neutral.” To keep it “safe.”

Safe for whom?

It is not safe for our clients. It is not safe for our colleagues. It is not safe for the vulnerable populations we’ve sworn to protect. It is only safe for the status quo—the one that benefits from silence and compliance.

I did not enter this field to be “neutral.”I entered it to stand in the gap. To advocate. To fight.

And now, social workers across the country are being made to choose between staying true to their ethics—or staying employed. We are being forced into cognitive dissonance: uphold your code, or keep your job. But you cannot do both.

What happens when the very foundation of social work—social justice, cultural competence, dignity and worth of the person—is labeled “radical”? When speaking out against harm is treated as the harm itself?

We lose our compass.We lose our courage.We lose our calling.

So don’t tell me DEI is “political.”Don’t tell me it’s “divisive.”Don’t tell me it’s “woke.”

It’s social work.

And if we lose it, we lose ourselves.

I am infuriated.

Infuriated at the institutions. Infuriated at those who mock faculty for choosing self-preservation in this climate. You do not know what it means to stand at the edge of your profession and wonder, “Will I be next?” It’s easy to throw stones when you aren’t the one under surveillance.

And yet, I understand the bind. I see the universities trying to stay accredited, funded, and open to students. But I also see them failing the very values they once claimed to uphold.

I feel helpless.

What can I do? What can any of us do that will make a difference but won’t lead to our own destruction? How do we fight back when the rules of the game keep shifting to silence us?

I am tired.

Tired of the noise—especially from those who don’t understand the stakes but keep shouting anyway.Tired of pretending that this is fine. That this is normal. That this will all pass.

Because it’s not fine. It’s not normal. And unless we find the courage and the solidarity to push back—together—it won’t pass. It will calcify into the new status quo. One where silence is safe, and justice is optional.