So You Think It’s “Just a DEI Hire”? Let’s Talk About the Racism in That Assumption

Here’s a little common sense for you:

If your first thought when you see a Black person in a position of power is “they only got the job because of DEI”, then congratulations — you’ve just said a lot more about your own prejudice than about that person’s qualifications.

Let’s be real for a second. DEI — Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion — has become the boogeyman of the decade. Folks hear those three letters and suddenly think merit went out the window and a participation trophy showed up in a briefcase. But here’s the irony that too many people overlook: for generations, people of color were excluded from positions not because they weren’t qualified, but because they weren’t allowed to be seen as qualified.

So when someone finally breaks through those barriers, the assumption is that they didn’t earn it?

That’s not skepticism. That’s racism dressed up as “concern for merit.”

The Myth of the “DEI Hire”

Let’s unpack what people mean when they say someone was a “DEI hire.” They’re implying that the person was chosen because of their race, gender, or background — instead of their skills or experience. But that logic completely ignores two things:

1. The systemic gatekeeping that’s kept talented minorities out of key positions for decades.

2. The proven fact that marginalized professionals often have to over-deliver just to get noticed.

There’s an old saying — one that every Black professional knows by heart —

“Black people have to be twice as good to get half as much.”

It’s not just a catchy phrase. It’s the reality our parents and grandparents lived through — and it’s still echoing today. Black professionals, especially in corporate America, are often more educated, more experienced, and more adaptable because they had to be. They had to navigate bias, stereotypes, and systems that weren’t built for them — and still outperform their peers.

So, if a Black woman becomes a VP, a CEO, or a university dean, odds are she didn’t get there because of DEI. She got there in spite of the barriers DEI programs were created to address.

The Real Double Standard

Funny thing — when a mediocre white guy gets promoted, nobody questions it. Nobody whispers, “Oh, he must’ve been a NEPOTISM hire,” or “Guess he benefited from white comfort culture.” No, the assumption is always that he earned it. But when a person of color gets that same opportunity, suddenly everyone’s an armchair HR expert, ready to audit their résumé.

That’s not “questioning the process.” That’s revealing bias. Because the standard of proof is different depending on the skin tone of the person being discussed.

DEI Isn’t Lowering the Bar — It’s Removing the Blindfold

The truth is, DEI initiatives aren’t about giving unqualified people a free ride. They’re about forcing companies to take off the blindfold that’s kept them from seeing qualified candidates who don’t look like them. It’s about accountability — making sure opportunities reach those who’ve been unfairly overlooked for generations.

Calling someone a “DEI hire” is like saying a woman in the 1950s only got a job because of “women’s rights.” No, she got the job because she was finally allowed to compete.

Let’s Flip the Script

If anything, we should recognize that many so-called “DEI hires” have faced more scrutiny, more pressure, and more skepticism than their peers. They’ve had to put forth double the efforts just to be considered equal. They’re not the exception to the rule — they’re proof that the rules were rigged in the first place.

So, the next time someone mutters that tired old “DEI hire” line, ask them this:

“Why do you assume that diversity means less qualified?”

Because if diversity threatens your idea of merit, maybe your definition of merit wasn’t that solid to begin with.

Common Sense Conclusion

Let’s use some good old-fashioned common sense. Assuming someone isn’t qualified because of DEI isn’t just lazy — it’s prejudicial. It’s a bias that keeps moving the goalposts for marginalized people no matter how hard they work or how much they achieve.

The world isn’t worse off because workplaces are finally reflecting the people they serve. It’s better — smarter, more dynamic, and more just.

So maybe the next time you see a Black pilot, woman executive, or person of color thriving in their role, don’t assume DEI handed it to them. Assume they earned it — because odds are, they’ve been earning it for a very long time.

When Photos Were Memories—Not Marketing

There was a time—not even that long ago—when a camera only came out for big moments. Birthdays🎂, vacations🏖️, graduations🎓... the kinds of events that made you pause and say, “I want to remember this.”

📚 Back When Photos Lived in Albums, Not Algorithms

Once upon a time, a photograph was a physical keepsake—a glossy print slipped into a plastic page or tucked into a frame on the living room shelf. Those dusty albums in our parents’ and grandparents’ homes? They’re relics of intentional living.

Torn corners. Faded ink. Fingerprints smudged by generations. Each photo was handled, cherished, and revisited not for “likes”… but for longing.  

🏡 Before Social Media, Photos Stayed Inside the Home

There’s an entire layer to this conversation that people rarely acknowledge: 👉 Nobody saw your photos unless they stepped inside your home (or you opened your wallet). If someone wanted to see your memories, they had to flip through your albums while sitting on your couch. These images were private moments protected by proximity.

But today? We upload pictures to social media as if we’re inviting the whole world into our living rooms. 

And here’s the truth: Everyone is not our friend. Everyone should not have access to our lives.

When we post photos online, we’re unintentionally unlocking the front door and saying, “Come on in—here’s everything I’ve been doing.”

That level of unfiltered access isn’t healthy. Not emotionally. Not socially. Not spiritually. We’ve blurred the line between sharing our lives and exposing our lives.

📱 When Cameras Moved Into Our Pockets

Somewhere along the way, something shifted. Cameras stopped being special-occasion devices and became everyday sidekicks. Always ready. Always connected. And with that, the purpose of a photo changed. 

20 years ago, I could see a picture from the past and recall almost everything from the exact moment because photos were rare. Now I have over 2k photos on my phone from the last decade and 95% of them hold almost no real memory at all.

Today, so many pictures aren’t taken to remember a moment—they’re taken to present a moment.

To curate.
To impress.
To collect those little heart icons. ❤️

We capture sunsets, plates of food, or a night out with friends… and instead of savoring the actual moment, we’re refreshing the screen, waiting on validation. And I get it. I was once that person. However, I asked myself one day, "Why are you doing this? For you or for them?"

The photos were already archived on my phone, so why was I sharing it to a public spot with people who didn't ask to see them? Because I wanted to see, "Looks like a great trip!" or "That food looks great!" on my timeline, that's why. I was wanting validation.

🎭 We Photograph Our “Perceived Lives,” Not Our Real Ones

Perfect brunch layouts. Strategically posed selfies. “Candid” laughter that took five tries. It’s a highlight reel—edited and filtered to perfection. And while we’re busy capturing everything…

Are we truly experiencing anything?

Think about it: The warmth of a real conversation. The beauty of nature. The quiet joy of simply being present. These moments often get lost in our pursuit of the “perfect shot.”

🔄 What If We Took Photos for Ourselves Again?

Imagine grabbing your camera or phone—not to impress your followers—but to preserve a feeling.  A memory. A moment that matters only to you and the people in it.

Imagine bringing back the photo album, the framed picture on the nightstand, the simple pleasure of flipping through memories without the shadow of social comparison.

🌿 A Digital Reset Might Save Our Memories

It may be time to step back. To reclaim the photograph as a treasure chest, not a currency. To live moments before we post them. To protect some memories from the eyes of strangers. 

Your future self—the one who’ll look back on your life—will be grateful that you captured real moments, not marketable ones.

Politicians, Media, and the Accountability Illusion

Every few weeks, America is treated to a brand-new political scandal, wrapped in dramatic music, breathless headlines, and commentators acting like the country is about to collapse by lunchtime. A recent example involves Pete Hegseth and the controversy around alleged military wrongdoing. And just like clockwork, the media machine fired up, politicians performed moral outrage for the cameras, and half the country demanded consequences.

You already know how this story ends.

Nothing happens.

Maybe a resignation. Maybe a “strongly worded statement.” Maybe an investigation that drags on long enough for everyone to forget why it started. But actual accountability — firings, prosecutions, real consequences — almost never enters the chat. The system isn’t built to punish its own unless there’s political value in doing so.

Yet every time a scandal drops involving “the other side,” we lose our minds like it’s breaking news that powerful people get away with things.

The Outrage Cycle Is a Feature, Not a Bug

Politicians and media outlets know exactly what they’re doing, because outrage is profitable. Outrage keeps people clicking. Outrage keeps people watching. Outrage keeps people voting against someone instead of demanding real policy from their own side.

And let’s be honest: we fall for it every single time.

We get angry, we share links, we dunk on strangers in comment sections, we treat allegations like convictions — and then act shocked when the accused politician strolls away untouched. Meanwhile, the people stirring the pot quietly move on to the next scandal, the next ratings bump, the next fundraising email.

The truth is uncomfortable: the outrage we produce is the fuel that keeps the whole system running.

Partisan Scandals Are Designed for One Purpose

Not justice.

Not accountability.

Not truth.

They exist to keep us distracted while the same people who hype the scandal keep governing the exact same way they did the day before. The goal is division, distraction, and emotional investment in a political reality show that never ends and never changes.

We’re so busy attacking the politician we hate that we don’t notice everyone in power — on both sides — quietly avoiding any consequences for anything.

Why Do We Still Fall for It?

Because outrage feels like action.
Because fighting online feels like making a difference.
Because we want to believe someone is finally going to be held responsible.
Because it’s easier to get mad than to accept how little the system is willing to change.

But at some point, we have to step back and ask the question that should’ve been obvious years ago:

If political scandals almost never lead to meaningful consequences, why are we letting ourselves be played over and over again?

The Accountability Illusion

The hard truth is that the people with power — politicians, media influencers, cable news hosts, party leaders — are running the same playbook they've always run:

1. Stir the public.

2. Frame the narrative for their side.

3. Keep the anger flowing.

4. Let time pass.

5. Move on when everyone forgets.

Meanwhile, the accused keeps their job, their power, their platform, and sometimes even gains more influence simply because their name stayed in the news.

When the smoke clears, the only people who actually paid a price were the citizens who wasted hours of their lives being emotionally dragged around by people who don’t even know they exist.

What If We Stopped Letting Them Use Us?

Imagine if we stopped giving politicians the emotional energy they feed on.
Imagine if we stopped treating partisan scandals like sporting events.
Imagine if we held our own side accountable with the same energy we use on the side we hate.

Because the truth is simple:

The outrage isn’t the problem.
The outrage without results is.

Until we demand systems that actually punish political wrongdoing, the scandal cycle will keep spinning, the media will keep cashing in, and politicians will keep doing whatever they want.

And they’ll keep playing us… only because we keep letting them.