Letter: What do we sacrifice in the name of anti-DEI?

Since the implementation of the anti-DEI bill, Utah college students have been attempting to make sense of their cultural displacement within higher education.

I was recently let go, after working in higher education for three years, following the termination of my department. During that time, staff members and I, many of whom were student employees, had cultivated a culturally responsive and student-centered environment. We observed how the college sought to comply with HB261 by renaming DEI-focused offices and closing others, which was not a standalone action by our institution. The University of Utah committed to its compliance by closing the Center for Equity and Student Belonging, the LGBT Resource Center, and the Women’s Resource Center under new centralized centers.

Since the closure of our office, the loneliness on campus feels much more apparent.

A few of my former coworkers who are still attending students name the silence. They mention how there is now an absence of a space where they can discuss their experiences without fear of retaliation. Following the increase of ICE agents on college campuses, students would visit our office and express their apprehensions about attending classes, all knowing that they were in a safe place to share those concerns. However, without offices to honor the raw student experience, especially of marginalized students, they lose these systems of support and become silent, questioning their role in higher education.

As students begin reconsidering their role in higher education, we should ask ourselves: What do we sacrifice in the name of anti-DEI? What opportunities for connection and conversation are lost when students feel they no longer belong within the educational system? DEI programs uplift student voices and strengthen our bonds with each other. Their erasure does not go unnoticed.

For now, the classroom feels lonely.

Tricio Salgado, Salt Lake City

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