Scarlet Letters & Side-Eyes: Celebrating Diversity When It’s Not Convenient

By LaDawn Sullivan

April is Celebrate Diversity Month.

Yes, it’s still on the calendar. Still official. Still deserving more than a quiet nod and a half-hearted social post squeezed in between everything else.And yet, the energy feels different this year. Not reflectively quiet. Not intentionally quiet. More like that polite, professional silence that shows up when a conversation gets a little too real and folks suddenly need to “circle back.”

Because here we are. In a moment where “DEI” has become, for some, a scarlet acronym. Capital letters and all.

In 2020, diversity, equity, and inclusion were everywhere. Boardrooms elevated the language. Institutions issued statements. Philanthropy leaned in with strategies, commitments, and more panels than any of us had time to attend. There was urgency. There was visibility. There was, at least on paper, alignment.

Fast forward to now, and you can almost feel the collective shuffle. The language gets softer. The words get swapped out. Or they disappear altogether, like they left the meeting early and didn’t tell anyone. What has not changed, however, is the reality of our communities.

Diversity didn’t pack up and leave. People didn’t wake up one day less Black, less Brown, less multicultural, less anything that makes this country what it is. The only thing that shifted is how comfortable some folks are talking about it. And that’s noticeable.

When diversity is easy to showcase - nice photos, good lighting, a well-timed campaign - it gets celebrated. When it requires real investment, shared power, or a shift in who gets to make decisions, suddenly it’s complicated. Too political. Too divisive. Too much… something. 

It’s interesting how quickly “important” can become “inconvenient.” Still, one thing remains true: diversity without inclusion is decoration, and inclusion without equity is performance. Communities recognize the difference. They’ve had plenty of practice. So, the question becomes: where do we go from here?

We don’t wait for the pendulum to swing back. We don’t hold our breath for the next moment when it’s safe to say the words out loud again. We move with the same clarity that has always driven this work.

That means continuing to invest in and follow the leadership of those who never treated this as a trend in the first place – Black-led organizations. Community-rooted leaders. The ones who have been doing this work long before it had a name folks could debate about. The ones who didn’t need a national moment to know what their communities needed – they were already responding.

At the BRIC Fund, this has always been the approach.

BRIC wasn’t built around an acronym. It was built around a set of beliefs: that communities closest to the challenges are also closest to the solutions; that resourcing those communities is not charity but strategy; and that equity is essential if you want outcomes that actually last.

Those beliefs didn’t come with a trend cycle, so they don’t leave with one either. Moments like this don’t call for retreat. They call for alignment… and maybe a little backbone.

But let’s name something honestly: for some, leaning into diversity right now doesn’t just feel inconvenient, it feels risky. Unpopular. Maybe even a little scary. There’s a real tension between what people believe and what they feel safe saying or doing. And still, turning away won’t get us any closer to the communities, the country or the world we say we want.

If we are serious about building something better - something grounded in humanity, access, opportunity, fairness, and a true sense of belonging - then diversity isn’t optional. It’s foundational.

You don’t get harmony by ignoring differences. 

You don’t get equity by avoiding discomfort.

You don’t get belonging by shrinking who is seen and heard.

You get there by staying and standing in it.

By choosing to see people fully, even when it challenges your perspective.

By asking harder questions instead of avoiding them.

By standing a little firmer in your values when the room gets quiet.

Celebrate Diversity Month is less about performance and more about practice. It’s not about checking a box or posting a quote. It’s about recognizing people fully, and then making sure the systems around them reflect that recognition.

That can take several forms.

It can mean funding Black-led organizations with trust and flexibility—no extra hoops, no unnecessary gymnastics.

It can mean expanding who holds decision-making power beyond the usual suspects.

It can mean taking a real look at who is missing from the table—and not just adding a chair, but actually making space.

It can mean holding steady in your values, even when they’re no longer trending.

In this moment, celebration requires a little courage, and a willingness to be the one who says the thing out loud when the room gets quiet. IT’s also a clear opportunity for those wondering what meaningful engagement looks like right now.

The BRIC Fund offers a direct pathway to move from reflection to action. Supporting BRIC means investing in Black-led organizations across Colorado that are advancing solutions in real time. It means contributing to the growth of an endowment designed for long-term sustainability. It means helping ensure that leaders building stronger, more equitable communities have what they need - not just when it’s popular, but consistently.

Engagement can take many forms: giving, sharing the work, amplifying the stories of grantees, and advocating for community-led solutions within your own networks. No grand gesture required, just a willingness to actually DO SOMETHING.

Diversity does not require permission to exist, and it certainly doesn’t need a rebrand to be relevant. 

The question is not whether diversity should be celebrated. The question is whether that celebration shows up in action, especially when it’s less visible, less affirmed, and a little more uncomfortable.

At BRIC, the answer remains yes. Not because it’s easy. Not because it’s popular. But because it’s necessary.

And if April is going to mean anything this year, it’s choosing not to turn away. Choosing to lean in anyway. Choosing to stay engaged anyway. Choosing to build the kind of future we keep talking about… together.

The kind that builds something real. The kind that lasts.