I have spent my career fighting for equity in health care, ensuring that patients, regardless of race or income, receive the dignity, care and attention they deserve. Lately I, along with so many, feel the ground shifting beneath us. The work of diversity, equity and inclusion — of justice — has been labeled as dangerous, divisive, even unnecessary.

We’ve seen this before. Every step forward in history has been met with a backlash. When civil rights legislation passed, there were calls to dismantle it. When affirmative action opened doors, the forces of exclusion fought to close them. Now, as we make progress in addressing systemic disparities in health care, housing and education, there is yet another wave of resistance, this time wrapped in the language of neutrality and fairness, aimed at making people feel bad about being who they are.

Let’s be clear: This is not about fairness. It is about power. It is about control. And it is about erasing the truth — systemic inequities still exist, and they must be confronted. Period.

The pushback against diversity, equity and inclusion is not just political maneuvering — it has real consequences. I have sat with families whose loved ones died needlessly because our health care system was never designed to serve them. I have listened to patients who were dismissed, ignored or mistreated because of the color of their skin. I have worked with communities where the ZIP code you are born into determines your life expectancy. These are not abstract debates. They are life and death. Facts.

I have seen what is possible when we do the work. My team and I are building sustainable pathways toward equity, creating generational impact for families and communities. We have launched workforce development programs that recruit and train young individuals from underrepresented communities for health care careers that build economic stability. We have implemented health equity training for thousands of employees, ensuring that the people providing care understand the historical injustices that have shaped health care disparities.

We reimagined access to care, embedding cultural navigators within the system to advocate for patients who have been historically marginalized. We have cultivated spaces of healing for our own health care workers, particularly those of color who often bear the weight of systemic oppression even as they fight to build a new system.

These efforts are real, tangible solutions that have transformed lives. I have seen young people of color walk into health care spaces for the first time, realizing they, too, can be the doctors, nurses and leaders of tomorrow. I have sat with families who, for the first time in generations, feel like they have a future where they can thrive, not just survive.

Yet those in power would rather erase the words “equity” and “inclusion” than address the crises they represent. They believe that if they stop saying the word “racism,” the harm it causes will somehow disappear. It won’t.

So, what do we do?

First, we refuse to be gaslit. We do not allow history to be rewritten or facts to be distorted. Truth is not an attack, it is a foundation.

Second, we recommit, not just in words, but in action. That means showing up: in our workplaces, in our communities and at the ballot box. It means ensuring that every space we occupy reflects our values. It means speaking up when it is uncomfortable, especially when it is uncomfortable.

And, finally, we keep going.

Justice was never meant to be easy. As Harriet Tubman said, “If you hear the dogs, keep going. If you see the torches in the woods, keep going. If they’re shouting after you, keep going. If you want a taste of freedom, keep going.”

The forces of regression are loud, well-funded and relentless. But so are we. The torches are lit. The shouting has begun. The dogs are barking.

So, America, what will we do?

We keep going.

For our communities. For our children. For the future we deserve.

Nneka Sederstrom is chief health equity officer at Hennepin Healthcare.