Louisiana is on the brink of rewriting how its public institutions deal with race, history, and inequality. House Bill 685, which represents an aggressive, sweeping ban on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) programs in colleges and state agencies, has already passed the House and is headed for the Senate. Supporters claim it promotes fairness; but in reality, if passed, HB 685 would strip away the few tools we have to confront systemic racism in education and government. In doing so, we would push Louisiana further into a future where equity is treated as a threat rather than a goal.
What HB 685 Actually Does
Louisiana House Bill 685, now advancing through the state legislature, is often described as a ban on “DEI”—short for Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion. But, if passed and signed into law, HB 685 would dismantle the very infrastructure within Louisiana’s public colleges and state agencies designed to address systemic discrimination and expand opportunity.
The bill prohibits the existence of DEI offices and staffing in public higher education. “This is an anti-Black bill. It’s not just divisive. It’s offensive,” said Rep. Edmond Jordan, Democrat from Baton Rouge.
The bill seeks to ban mandatory trainings that address implicit bias, systemic racism, or gender equity, even for employees working in health care, education, or public safety. It also eliminates the ability of schools and agencies to consider race or gender in recruitment, hiring, or admissions, regardless of whether such consideration is used to promote diversity or remedy documented disparities.
Even student organizations and programs may be affected. Under the current language, funding could be denied to campus groups or initiatives that center historically marginalized communities such as Black student unions, women in STEM initiatives, or LGBTQ+ resource centers.
In effect, HB 685 renders public institutions blind to inequality. It goes beyond just banning “preferential treatment.” It bans awareness, acknowledgment, and action.
The bill passed the Louisiana House last week by a 57–32 vote, despite vocal opposition from the Louisiana Legislative Black Caucus, which called the measure “anti-Black” and “needlessly divisive.” It now heads to the Senate, where its passage would mark one of the most aggressive anti-DEI laws in the country.
The bill’s passage would represent a fundamental shift in how Louisiana defines fairness, access, and the role of government in addressing inequality.
Why DEI Was Created in the First Place
To understand what Louisiana is poised to eliminate, we have to remember why DEI policies existed in the first place. Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs weren’t created to hand out unearned advantages or to shame anyone for their identity. They were developed as a response to the long, measurable legacy of exclusion baked into American institutions, especially education, government, and the workforce.
For decades, or even centuries, in fact, Black Louisianans were denied equal access to public services, schools, housing, and employment. Those barriers didn’t vanish with the Civil Rights Act. In many cases, they adapted. College campuses that once explicitly barred Black students remained dominated by white leadership, white curricula, and unspoken cultural codes that left students of color isolated and unsupported. Meanwhile, hiring panels and admissions boards continued to favor people who looked, spoke, and moved through the world like those already in power.
While not always perfect, DEI programs were a deeply necessary attempt to address the realities of generational systemic discrimination within our institutions. They provided mentorship and retention support for first-generation college students, implicit bias training for faculty and state employees, outreach for underrepresented communities, and new frameworks for understanding how race, gender, ability, and class shape opportunity. In Louisiana, DEI offices helped craft pathways for Black educators, supported minority-owned business programs, and provided training for state staff working with diverse populations.
The work under Louisiana’s DEI has been about acknowledging that simply treating everyone “the same” in a system built on historical inequality guarantees that those at the margins remain there.
Opponents of DEI often argue that these programs promote “division” or “reverse discrimination.” But that interpretation collapses centuries of inequity into a false equivalence. On a basic level, proponents of the bill argue DEI has been about giving people an edge because of their identity. On the other hand, opponents say DEI is about removing the structural roadblocks that have kept some people out altogether.
When we eliminate DEI, we don’t return to neutrality. We return to default systems that have long worked well for some, but left others behind.
The Historical and Philosophical Case for DEI
To understand why Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion still matters, it helps to step back and look at how recent our country’s most brutal systems of exclusion really are. Slavery ended less than 160 years ago, and legal segregation remained in place in Louisiana until the mid-20th century. That means there are people alive today who attended segregated schools, were denied the right to vote, or lived under laws that openly treated them as less than equal.
For many, these experiences are still living memory, not ancient history. And the structures built under those systems didn’t simply disappear. Many of them were absorbed into the institutions we still rely on, including our schools, courts, housing markets, and our state agencies. The impact didn’t vanish when the laws changed. It was passed down through policy, culture, and habit.
Most people in positions of power in Louisiana are still white. Many were raised in environments where conversations about race were shaped by silence, bias, or denial. DEI programs were created to name those patterns and help us do better. They were not created to assign guilt and hand out favors, but rather to build awareness and make sure access is fair and opportunities are real.
When HB 685 says it is banning “divisive concepts,” what it’s really doing is cutting off the conversation entirely. It tells educators and public servants to stop acknowledging racism, stop talking about equity, and stop trying to correct the damage that history left behind.
But ignoring a problem doesn’t solve it.
In a state where racial disparities show up everywhere from education to health care to employment, removing DEI is more about pretending inequality isn’t still part of the system and less about ensuring fairness.
We didn’t arrive at these disparities by accident, and we won’t fix them by pretending they no longer exist.
Who This Hurts the Most
If HB 685 becomes law, the people most harmed won’t be professors with DEI in their job title or administrators working in university offices. It will be the students, workers, and community members whose futures depend on institutions recognizing and addressing inequity.
In Louisiana, where Black residents make up nearly one-third of the population, but continue to face disparities in education, income, health care, and incarceration, DEI initiatives have played a small but crucial role in bridging the gap. Eliminating those programs doesn’t just remove a few jobs—it strips away entire systems of support that were finally beginning to acknowledge the depth of that gap.
Consider the thousands of first-generation students across Louisiana who have relied on support networks just to get through college—networks now at risk under HB 685. Programs like the Louisiana Board of Regents’ FirstGen Week were created to celebrate and support students navigating higher education without the advantage of familial experience. At Xavier University of Louisiana, a historically Black institution, initiatives like the CARE Program offer academic coaching, retention support, and personal guidance specifically for first-generation students—many of whom are also students of color. In a state where access to college is already shaped by race, income, and geography, removing the DEI framework that makes such programs possible is a step backward—not toward fairness, but toward institutional neglect.
Now imagine a student entering college five years from now—navigating rising tuition, generational poverty, and institutional barriers—without access to a DEI office, without a support network, and with fewer scholarships because the state has outlawed efforts to identify and address disparities. That student won’t see this as politics. They’ll feel it as abandonment.
The harm will also be felt by faculty and staff of color, who already report higher levels of isolation and discrimination in academia. Without DEI offices to advocate for inclusive hiring, mediate cultural conflicts, or offer institutional accountability, these professionals may face the same systemic barriers that DEI was designed to dismantle.
In New Orleans, where cultural expression is often cited but not always resourced, eliminating DEI will exacerbate the existing inequities in state-funded programs, university access, and hiring pipelines. And let’s be clear: these effects don’t stop at Black communities. When you remove frameworks that support inclusion, you also undercut Indigenous students, queer youth, women in male-dominated fields, people with disabilities, and any group that has historically been excluded from power.
HB 685 reasserts the assumption that if someone didn’t make it, they simply didn’t try hard enough. It ignores the data, the disparities, and the lived experiences of thousands of Louisianans. And that denial will have consequences for years to come.
The Myth of Colorblind Merit
One of the most persistent arguments in favor of HB 685 is that it promotes a “colorblind” approach to education and employment, emphasizing merit over identity. Proponents suggest that by eliminating Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) programs, Louisiana can ensure that opportunities are awarded based solely on individual qualifications, free from considerations of race, gender, or background.
However, this perspective overlooks the systemic inequalities that have historically hindered equal access to education and employment for marginalized communities. The notion of a level playing field assumes that all individuals start from the same point, disregarding the enduring effects of discrimination and socioeconomic disparities.
For instance, a 2025 report revealed that Louisiana’s public colleges and universities allocated only 0.1% of their budgets to DEI initiatives. This minimal investment challenges the narrative that DEI programs are a significant financial burden or that they provide undue advantages to certain groups.
Moreover, the elimination of DEI programs can have tangible negative impacts. At Louisiana State University (LSU), student Isaiah Fernandez lost his position under the DEI program due to policy changes. He expressed concerns about the broader implications, stating, “We’ve been able to create spaces for people who don’t feel included. Taking away these efforts is stepping back from that progress.”
By removing DEI initiatives, institutions risk ignoring the unique challenges faced by underrepresented groups. A truly merit-based system must account for these disparities and provide support mechanisms to ensure that all individuals have equitable opportunities to succeed.
Why This Backlash Is Happening Now
House Bill 685 is part of a broader national trend where DEI programs are being challenged or dismantled. Since 2021, numerous states have introduced or passed legislation aimed at restricting DEI initiatives in public institutions. For instance, in 2023, Texas enacted laws banning DEI offices and mandatory diversity training in public colleges, and Florida prohibited the use of state funds for DEI programs in higher education.
This movement gained momentum following the Supreme Court’s 2023 decision in Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard, which struck down affirmative action in college admissions. The ruling emboldened efforts to roll back race-conscious policies, leading to a surge in anti-DEI legislation across the country.
In Louisiana, HB 685 reflects this national shift. Proponents argue that DEI programs are divisive and promote preferential treatment. However, critics contend that eliminating these initiatives ignores the systemic barriers that marginalized communities face. As Rep. Candace Newell of New Orleans stated during the House debate, “This is the most racially oppressive piece of legislation I have ever had to debate since I have been in office.”
The push against DEI is not just about policy differences; it’s a reflection of deeper societal tensions regarding race, identity, and power. By targeting programs designed to address inequities, such legislation risks perpetuating the very disparities it claims to eliminate.
What’s at Stake for Louisiana
House Bill 685 (HB 685) strikes at the heart of Louisiana’s efforts to address historical inequities and foster inclusive growth. By dismantling Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives, the bill threatens to reverse progress made in education, workforce development, and community engagement.
In education, DEI programs have been instrumental in supporting underrepresented students. For instance, the Louisiana GO Grant provides need-based financial aid to low- and moderate-income students, many of whom are first-generation college attendees. Eliminating DEI frameworks could jeopardize such programs, making higher education less accessible to those who need it most.
The workforce implications are equally concerning. DEI initiatives have encouraged the hiring and promotion of diverse candidates, ensuring that public institutions reflect the communities they serve. Without these programs, there’s a risk of reverting to homogenous leadership that may not prioritize or understand the needs of all constituents.
Community organizations, particularly in cities like New Orleans, rely on DEI principles to guide their outreach and services. Programs aimed at reducing health disparities, improving educational outcomes, and fostering economic development are often rooted in DEI strategies. Stripping away these guiding principles could hinder the effectiveness of such initiatives, leaving vulnerable populations without crucial support.
Moreover, the bill’s passage could have a chilling effect on academic freedom and open discourse. Educators might avoid discussing topics related to race, gender, or systemic inequality for fear of violating new regulations, thereby depriving students of a comprehensive understanding of societal dynamics.
In essence, HB 685 risks undoing years of work aimed at creating a more equitable Louisiana. The bill’s broad scope could lead to unintended consequences that affect not just marginalized groups but the state’s overall social and economic health.
Erasing the Infrastructure of Inclusion
HB 685 is not just a policy shift. It is a political statement and a retreat from responsibility at a moment when Louisiana should be moving forward.
Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs exist not to divide us, but to help repair the fractures that history—and policy—created. They are not about guilt. They are about acknowledgment, access, and accountability. In a state like Louisiana, where racial disparities are deep, generational, and measurable, DEI is a practical necessity in a society where the roots of systemic racism run too deep and have been entrenched within our institutions for generations going back to slavery. We can’t ignore the impact these realities still have today on the decisions that are being made at higher levels within our institutions. To think that all discriminatory thought among those in power are magically removed just a few generations following Jim Crow would be quite naive.
Rescinding these initiatives will resurrect silence and justify oppression rather than ensure fairness.
This is the same silence that kept Black students out of classrooms for generations, that let hiring boards pass over equally qualified candidates of color, and that tells marginalized communities today: “If you’re not succeeding, it must be your fault.”
We’ve seen this before. In 2025, we should be beyond pretending that history can be solved by ignoring it.
What HB 685 truly represents is fear of confronting uncomfortable truths, and fear of equity being mistaken for loss. But equity isn’t subtraction. It’s expansion, and the belief that everyone deserves a fair shot, not just the ones who’ve always had one.
There is still time. The bill now sits in the hands of Louisiana’s Senate. Lawmakers can reject this rollback of progress and choose instead to invest in systems that work for all of us. They can acknowledge that institutions should reflect—not erase—the communities they serve.
And if they don’t, we must hold them accountable.
Because if we let this pass in silence, we will have learned nothing from the very history DEI seeks to address.
