I recently stood on the floor of the Ohio House of Representatives and delivered a speech in support of Senate Bill 1. This legislation would strengthen Ohio’s higher education system by eliminating diversity, equity, and inclusion mandates from our college campuses. As a proud black man and a Republican legislator, my remarks quickly gained traction, racking up millions of views and comments on social media.
Predictably, the loudest backlash came from white liberals.
One of my former classmates in law school, who spent a grand total of six months volunteering in an inner-city community, had the nerve to tell me that he understands the black experience better than I do. This is the arrogance of white liberalism: the belief that proximity to poverty is the same as surviving it. The idea that they know better than those of us who actually lived it, overcame it, and returned to help others escape it — that’s the real condescension.
I’ve shared my story before in these pages, but it bears repeating. I was born and raised in Toledo, Ohio, in a community defined by poverty and pain. I grew up on food stamps — real ones, the kind that came in little booklets before they became electronic benefit transfer cards. In the winter, every poor child in town got the same government-issued coat from Value City on Alexis Road. You could spot us a mile away.
I’m not opposed to DEI because I’m blind to racism. I’ve lived it. I’ve endured it. I’ve stared down homelessness, disability, and hopelessness. At one point, the weight of it all nearly cost me my life, by suicide. I carry those scars with me every day. But I chose a different path — I chose resilience. I chose public service. I chose to fight for real solutions, not symbolic gestures.
DEI stands in the way of that mission.
These policies are increasingly crafted and pushed by wealthy white liberals who don’t live in our communities, don’t send their children to our schools, and have never had to survive by wearing a welfare coat. They preach about diversity, equity, and inclusion — but they’re not lifting black people up. They’re checking boxes and patting themselves on the back.
In their view, if we just hire a few more people based on skin color, we’ve solved racism. But what about the fact that Toledo Public Schools receives some of the highest state funding in Ohio and still lags behind in reading and math proficiency? What about the broken schools, food deserts, and lack of job training in black communities across the country? DEI doesn’t fix any of that. It distracts from the hard work that real progress demands.
I’ve focused my work in the legislature on real, measurable change. I’ve helped make workforce development training free and accessible for all Ohioans, regardless of race or income. I’ve pushed for improved literacy outcomes and fought to remove the barriers that trap families in cycles of poverty. This isn’t glamorous work — it’s not the stuff of hashtags or college seminars — but it’s the kind of work that actually changes lives.
And black voters are paying attention. They’re not falling for the rhetoric anymore. They want results, not recycled talking points. They’re realizing that the Republican Party is the one advancing policies that strengthen education, create equal opportunity, and promote independence. That shift is already underway — and it’s only going to accelerate.
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We want our shot at the American dream. We’re not asking for handouts. We’re not looking for DEI shortcuts that allow white liberals to absolve themselves of their role in our underrepresentation. We’re asking for the same shot at success as anyone else — earned, not granted.
DEI is dead in Ohio. And if America is serious about real progress, it’s time for the rest of the country to bury it too — with a dose of truth, reality, and respect for those of us who’ve actually lived the struggle to lead the way forward.
Josh Williams is the majority whip in the Ohio House of Representatives.