My Sister, The D-E-I Agent
Navigating DEI in Corporate America
As DEI departments are being slashed, I have had an insight into the anxiety of those teams. My younger sister works in DEI for a large multi-national company. We’ll call her Fiona, so as not to draw unnecessary attention to her (that’s the world we live in now). Fiona grew up outside of the U.S., so her view of America and American racism differs from my native-born outlook.
I was nervous when she took the job, which was long before the inauguration. I worried that her being a modern, independent West African woman would rub folks the wrong way. I wasn’t entirely wrong. Even though Fiona lives in a liberal part of a blue state, I have been stunned by the level of crazy, she experienced.
Since when did fairness require a PowerPoint presentation?
So I asked Fiona, to tell my Vanilla is Black readers what it’s like to be leading Black History Month celebrations, at a mostly white multi-national company. For context, our father was a pioneer in the field of HR.
Our interview runs below. I made minimal edits to obscure Fiona’s identity, emphasis is mine:
Experiencing Racism for the First Time
You’ve told me you never really experienced racism until you came to the U.S. When was the first time you felt that shift?
Growing up in West Africa, race was never something I thought about. It just wasn’t part of my reality. Our dad, on the other hand, had spent years studying and living in America, and I noticed something about him whenever the topic of the “American dream” came up. While others spoke about it with admiration, he always countered or responded with a look I couldn’t quite place. Looking back now, I understand his eyes spoke volumes. It was the eyes of a man who had seen firsthand that the "American dream" often came with a side of nightmares, especially for Black people.
When I moved to America in the mid-2010’s, I wasn’t expecting a fairytale. Our father’s expression was burned into my memory, a quiet reminder that things might not be as they seemed. But what I wasn’t prepared for was how my very existence or my deep, rich skin could unsettle an entire society. Were they really trying to tell me that this Black skin, in all its awesomeness, could cost me opportunities? The thought alone was unfathomable.
I (once) applied for an administrative job at a company, and according to the recruiters, my résumé was top-tier. I aced their online test, exchanged a few positive emails, and finally, the recruiter asked to meet in person to discuss making me an offer. I walked into that meeting excited—ready to land my first corporate job in America. But the moment I stepped through the door, the energy shifted. The recruiter’s warm, enthusiastic emails suddenly didn’t match her cold, confused expression. She looked at my résumé, then at me. Back at the résumé. Then at me again. She asked me to confirm my name as if I wasn’t the same person from the paperwork. After a few awkward moments, she told me to wait, disappeared into her office, and closed the door.
Minutes later, she returned with a sudden change in plans. The position, she explained, had just been filled. But—and here’s where it got interesting—they would love to have me on board in a different capacity. “We have positions available on the production floor,” she said, almost enthusiastically. It took me days to fully unpack what had happened. At that moment, I had walked in thinking I was about to start a new job. Instead, I walked out understanding exactly what my father’s eyes were screaming all those years ago.
Since when did fairness require a PowerPoint presentation?
What was the biggest adjustment you had to make working in DEI here?
In corporate America, I constantly hear the same thing: "You need to build a business case." Prove why something matters. Justify why it should be done. I get it when we are talking about budgets, new tools, or software investments. But when it comes to DEI, the whole concept baffles me.
Why do I need to prove that people from underrepresented groups should feel included in the workplace? Why should I have to justify accommodations and accessibility features for people with disabilities? Why am I expected to build a case for women to receive equal pay to their male counterparts? Since when did fairness require a PowerPoint presentation?
I have made business cases for increasing budgets and I have built them for software upgrades. But having to build a case for why Black people deserve leadership opportunities, why pay transparency matters, or why inclusive language should be standard. That’s not just frustrating—it’s absurd.
And yet, here I am, doing exactly that. Because if corporate America demands a business case, I will make it impossible to ignore. I will build it tall, wide, and deep—so undeniable that the only response left is action.
Unpacking a Black History Month
What’s the wildest Black History Month story from your job?
For Black History Month, I created a month-long challenge—a mix of celebration and education. It had everything: interviews with Black employees showcased on big screens across headquarters, book fairs, online resources, DEI trainings, quizzes, and Black History bingo games. When my company approved it, I was thrilled. Even in these times, they seemed ready to make a bold statement for DEI.
So, I got to work. At first, everything was going great. Sure, I noticed the occasional side-eye, but I wasn’t fazed—after all, executive leadership had my back. Or so I thought.
Then, out of nowhere, things took a turn.
I had arranged for an African contemporary performance group to come at the office, and employees were excited. But before it could happen, my boss pulled me aside. Apparently, “the powers that be” had decided we needed to cancel the performance. Why? No real explanation—just vague mentions of the “political climate.” Let’s be real: we all knew what that meant. And in the end, they decided that celebrating Black culture, in a way it had never been celebrated before at this company for decades, was too risky.
So, the performance was scrapped. And while, on the surface, it might seem like just a canceled performance event, it was so much more than that. My company wasn’t afraid of dancing —they were afraid of looking too Black. The discomfort was palpable. The unspoken question lingered in the air: How dare she? How dare I make Black culture the focus? How dare I push beyond the usual token gestures? How dare I make them sit with something they weren’t ready to acknowledge? This wasn’t just about a performance—it was about power, about control, about whose stories get to be told and whose don’t. And in that moment, it was clear: they weren’t as bold as I had hoped.
Making a Difference: Small Wins
Have you felt like you were making a real difference, if so when?
As I was setting up for the Black History Month book fair, the Black man who worked in my company’s cafeteria—Mr. C—walked up to me. The space was coming together beautifully: a curated display of books by Black authors, a stand featuring mouthwatering Jamaican recipes, and a smooth jazz playlist flowing in the background—Fourplay, George Benson, Nina Simone, the greats. In the words of Gen Z, the book fair was giving!
Mr. C stood there for a moment, taking it all in. Then, with tears in his eyes, he simply said, “Thank you. Thank you for doing this. Thank you for being bold enough to do this.”
I held it together, but that thank you hit deep. It wasn’t just gratitude—it was recognition. It was someone who had probably spent years in that building without seeing his culture reflected back at him, finally feeling seen.
So, I did what felt right. I recommended a book, pulled him aside, and we played a round of bingo together. And that, to me, was success. Sure, I had numbers, metrics, and reports showing the impact of my efforts—but none of it carried the same weight as the look in Mr. J’s eyes. Because even after my company shut down parts of my initiative, even after they tried to minimize Black culture, they couldn’t erase that moment.
He saw me—this young African woman standing boldly in the middle of a corporate cafeteria, celebrating Black history, unapologetically. And because he saw me, he felt seen and for that reason, it was all worth it.
The Emotional Toll of DEI Work
Have you ever thought, “I can’t do this anymore”? What happened?
Some days, I just don’t want to do this anymore for reasons like someone casually suggesting that primarily American food be served at an Indian heritage event because “what if White people don’t like the smell of the food?”. Other days, it’s watching the hard work of elevating marginalized voices get dismissed like an afterthought.
Back in Africa, people called me strongheaded. I wore it like a badge of honor. But let me tell you—nothing could have prepared me for the “strength” of American racism. That thing is strong! So strong, that even my so-called unshakable will has felt like it is cracking under the weight of it.
There are days I want to give up, to shrink into silence, to stop fighting. But then I remember—my voice matters. My actions matter. And if there was ever a time to be strongheaded, it’s now. (Sonari: Our father would have it no other way!)
Future of DEI and Corporate America
Have you seen real change, or does it feel performative?
It is highly performative, but the actors are quite terrible at the performance. With the George Floyd murder, companies were scrambling to portray themselves as pro DEI, and then fast forward to 2025 and they are dropping like flies! The fact that people think they can pick and drop DEI at any time is ridiculous. Not everyone’s memory is short.
What do people misunderstand most about DEI?
One of the biggest myths about DEI is that it lowers standards. But the truth? Diverse teams outperform homogeneous ones—they bring more innovation, creativity, and stronger decision-making. DEI isn’t about lowering the bar; it’s about removing the barriers that have kept qualified candidates from getting a fair shot. Think about this: a recent study showed that Black women are the most educated demographic in America. If DEI was truly being practiced the way it should be—if those barriers were removed—we would see far more Black women in leadership roles, both in corporate America and politics. But we don’t. And that’s not because of a “pipeline problem”—it’s because those in power aren’t making room at the table. Some people also believe diversity will just “happen” over time like it’s an inevitable shift. But history has shown us that nothing changes without intentional effort. Systemic barriers don’t magically disappear—real change requires action, accountability, and a willingness to challenge the status quo.
Thank you “Fiona” for sharing your story.
Stay tuned to Vanilla is Black as I gather interesting guest writers and we dive into topics of race, culture, and the economy.