Virginia Republicans Embrace DEI! 

At least that is the heading in my head. 

Virginia Republicans have locked in the most diverse statewide ticket in Commonwealth history, featuring three barrier-breaking nominees: Winsome Earle-Sears, the first Black woman to secure a major party’s gubernatorial nomination; John Reid, the first openly gay person nominated for statewide office in Virginia’s history; and Jason Miyares, Virginia’s first Latino Attorney General running for re-election. Despite sharp policy differences, none of these nominees carries any credible ethics or character controversies—underscoring that diversity and integrity can go hand in hand. This historic slate also reflects a broader truth: political affiliations do not define monolithic viewpoints, and meaningful dialogue across ideological lines remains possible. As the Democrats prepare to unveil their equally diverse ticket—headed by former Rep. Abigail Spanberger, poised to become Virginia’s first woman governor—our Commonwealth once again leads the nation in inclusive representation (reminds me of the good ole days of Gerald L. Baliles, Doug Wilder, and Mary-Sue Terry. 

But what does this really mean? 

Virginia’s Historic GOP Ticket
 • Virginia’s Republican ticket for the 2025 statewide elections features unprecedented diversity and inclusivity, marking a another milestone in the Commonwealth’s political history.
 • Governor: Lt. Gov. Winsome Earle-Sears will be the GOP nominee, becoming the first Black woman in Virginia to achieve this distinction.
 • Lieutenant Governor: Conservative talk-radio host John Reid ran unopposed after his only primary rival withdrew, making him the first openly gay nominee for any statewide office in Virginia.
 • Attorney General: Incumbent Jason Miyares, the first Latino to hold Virginia’s attorney general post, is up for re-election—all without any notable ethics or character issues.

Beyond Policy: Integrity and Perspective

Although I strongly disagree with much of the Republican platform, there is no evidence that any nominee faces moral, ethical, or character-related controversies—an impressive feat for such high-profile figures.
This slate resonates with my own diverse network: I count Republicans among my closest friends, and we engage in candid, respectful debate—proof that no demographic group is monolithic. Someone dares to call me a moderate, and I clutched my pearls.

A Counterpoint to National Culture Wars

While the current administration in Washington, D.C., aggressively dismantles diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts, Virginia demonstrates the opposite in practice: the most qualified candidates—regardless of race, gender, or orientation—are given a fair shot at leadership.

Looking Ahead: Bipartisan Momentum
 • In just a few weeks, the Democratic Party will announce its nominees, and diversity will again headline their ticket. Former Rep. Abigail Spanberger, a white woman, is on track to become Virginia’s first female governor.
 • With both parties presenting groundbreaking tickets, Virginia is poised to lead the nation once more in inclusive governance—and I, for one, am ready for it. Hey, in Virginia we may even split the decision….we have done it before. 

We know one thing for sure. Virginia is making history in November…and it is progressive history! 

And yet..I make no secrets who I am voting for because I vote according to who most aligns with my values, my interests, my community and my life. For me, the choice is clear.

​“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”  We’ve all heard some version of this quote. But I’ve been thinking: is it really about remembering history—or understanding it?  I think it is the latter. 

Let’s take Adolf Hitler, for example. Most people can tell you he was a dictator responsible for the Holocaust. But fewer understand how he rose to power—or that he was never actually elected by the German people. Hell, most don't even know how many people were murdered in the Holocaust (it was 70-85 million people. I had to look it up.)

So, if Hitler wasn't elected, how did he gain power?  On January 30, 1933, Hitler was appointed Chancellor by President Paul von Hindenburg. Weeks later, after the suspicious Reichstag fire, Hitler used fear of a socialist uprising to push through the “Decree for the Protection of People and State,” which suspended civil liberties and enabled surveillance, property seizures, and arrests—primarily targeting political opponents. Hmmm, that was basically an executive order, right?

By March, the Reichstag passed the Enabling Act, giving Hitler full legislative powers and dismantling democracy in Germany. After Hindenburg died in 1934, Hitler declared himself Führer. Hmmm, that sounds similar to the U.S. Supreme Court giving a president immunity, doesn't it? 

So how did a nation fall to tyranny? Not through majority support—but through fear, manipulation, executive orders, and most chillingly, silence. A small, organized minority carried out Hitler’s vision while the majority watched, waited, or turned away. In other words, they were asleep. They were not… woke.

That’s the real lesson.

History doesn’t repeat itself because we forget—it repeats when we fail to truly understand and act on what it teaches us. We neglect to recognize when it is repeating. And good people remain asleep.

Today, the American people did not vote to challenge the Constitution or defy a Supreme Court ruling. They didn’t vote for that—just as the German people did not choose to be ruled by a dictator.

In a time when democracy, justice, and human rights are being tested around the world, this moment calls for courage, clarity, and collective action. And yes, it calls for true wokeness.

Silence is not neutrality. It’s complicity.

Permission to share but not cut and paste. 

Follow me at Frankly Speaking with Adrenne P. Whitaker. Check out my new blog at: http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/frankly-speaking-blog

And, stay tuned for my book: Beneath the Bayan Tree: A Family’s Legacy of Resistance, Freedom, Preserversnce.

@highlight

​I’ve got just two words for Harvard University: Hell yeah!

In the face of the Trump administration’s latest attack on diversity, equity, and inclusion, a “dear colleague” letter was sent to universities across the country, basically ordering them to shut down DEI programs that support an inclusive college experience. Some institutions have caved under pressure—despite strong support from faculty, students, and alumni.

But, not Harvard.

Yesterday, Harvard stood its ground and said “hell no” to the administration’s directive. And that move made me do something I never thought I’d do: as a proud William & Mary alumna, I donated to our academic nemesis. Just $100, sure—but it was my way of saying, “thank you.”

Will it put a dent in the $9 billion in federal funding Trump’s threatening to withhold? Not even close. Only $8,999,999,900 to go.

Seems impossible, right?

You must not know how loyal Harvard alumni are. Having a $53.2 billion endowment doesn't hurt ether; however, I think this bold move is going go galvanize Harvard supporters. Faculty and students are already cheering with pride.

FINALLY! This is the kind of bold resistance I want to see. Who’s next! 

​Please allow me a moment to engage in some light academic snobbery.  You see, I went to William & Mary.  Not Harvard. Not Yale. Not even Princeton (although I admit to getting a certification from Cornell, an Ivy). No, I went to the second-oldest institution of higher learning in the U.S., and I’ve always taken great pride in saying, “William & Mary isn’t an Ivy.” Because back in the day, Ivy meant elitist, out-of-touch, monocle-wearing snobs sipping tea while casually dismantling democracy. And that didn’t fit us.

We were different.
We were quirky.
We were cerebral.
We majored in philosophy on purpose.

But today, dear friends, I must confess: I may be… evolving. Maturing. Or perhaps just succumbing to the soft call of bougie validation. Because this morning, I read Forbes (yes, that Forbes) named William & Mary a “New Ivy.”

I’ll give you a moment to clutch your pearls.

That’s right. We’ve made the list.
Apparently, someone at Forbes dusted off their powdered wig and said, “You know who deserves some Ivy recognition? Those thoughtful, well-adjusted, public-good-loving nerds down in Williamsburg.”

And so, it is written.

According to Forbes, these “New Ivies” are attracting the best and the brightest, and graduating students that employers now prefer over actual Ivy Leaguers. (Your move, Harvard. You may be first, but we are better.)

The list was based on size, selectivity, test scores, and a survey sent to the Forbes C-suite crowd—you know, the same folks who think “networking” is a verb and “quiet quitting” is a crime. And William & Mary made the cut, along with—sigh—University of Virginia. Yes, our academic frenemy made it too. Go ahead and cheer for them… I’ll wait while I casually roll my eyes into the 17th century.

Anyway, here’s what sets us apart:
 • A 13:1 student-faculty ratio (translation: your professors actually know your name)
 • 99% of classes taught by faculty (no offense, TAs)
 • R1 research classification (we do the science and the Shakespeare)
 • Guaranteed funded internships or applied learning opportunities (because ramen doesn’t buy itself)

Under Vision 2026, W&M is tackling the big stuff: Water, Data, Democracy, and Careers. Because let’s face it, we may love books and brick pathways, but we also like getting paid to make the world better too.

One Forbes exec even said public university grads “exhibit more empathy” and have a “passion to innovate.” Which is exactly what I told my parents when I majored in Sociology and English instead of Business or Economics.

So here we are. Not just a Public Ivy. Not just the alma mater of presidents, trailblazers, and very earnest overachievers. Not just the “Alma Mater of the Nation.”
We are officially a New Ivy.
And yes, that probably means I’m now a snob.

But if loving William & Mary makes me one… I’ll be the kind that still holds the door open, volunteers on boards, and politely corrects your colonial history... well, all of your history actually.

Hark Upon the Snobbery, my friends.

Check out my new blog at http://www.l2lleadershipinstitute.com/frankly-speaking-blog​

​Addressing Disparities: A Win for Everyone

One of the great things about The Richmond Forum is that it always introduces me to new ideas and speakers I may not have encountered before. That was certainly the case on Saturday when author and researcher Richard Reeves posed the question: Are boys and men falling behind?

The short answer is yes. Reeves shared compelling data on how boys are lagging behind in key areas such as education and workforce participation. As I listened, another question came to mind: Why should we care?

To be clear, I do care. But I wondered—does it really matter in the grand scheme of things? And if it does, should I personally do something about it?

Reeves outlined several disparities and proposed solutions to help boys and men succeed. But as I reflected, I realized that this is, at its core, diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) at work. If we recognize where boys and men face disadvantages and take intentional action to address them, isn’t that the very essence of what DEI stands for?

Likewise, when we focus on the disparities faced by women and girls, people of color, LGBTQ+ individuals, people with disabilities, older adults, and veterans—using intention to close those gaps—isn’t that also the right thing to do?

The takeaway is simple: When we approach equity holistically, ensuring that no group is left behind, society as a whole benefits. Addressing disparities—whether for boys and men or any other group—isn’t about competition. It’s about building a stronger, more inclusive future for everyone.

Merit vs. Inclusion. I really can’t believe some think it’s an either/or choice. Instead of “vs.,” it should be “and” because inclusive practices are founded on treating people fairly. Let’s take the divisive politics out of the conversation and focus on merging merit with inclusion.

As a sociology and English major, I’d like to point out that Michael Young originally coined “meritocracy” as a work of dark satire—a dystopian vision where IQ and heredity determined one’s worth, and where merit quickly became an excuse for inequality. Young warned that taken to extremes, meritocracy can create a self-congratulatory elite oblivious to the struggles of others. Whew—that’s a lot. And while I promised to leave politics out, this is too important an issue not to address, but, I will avoid stating the obvious.

Today, the term is often celebrated as a promise that talent and effort determine success. However, when merit is framed without true inclusion, it justifies unequal opportunities and perpetuates biases and systemic barriers. True progress demands a synthesis of merit and inclusion.

So, how do organizations ensure they have merit-based inclusive practices? Here are a few actionable strategies:

• Design Job-Specific, Inclusive Assessments:
Develop job simulation exercises and tailored assessments free from socioeconomic and cultural biases.

• Build Inclusive Development Pathways: 
Create comprehensive career development programs that nurture the potential of all employees, regardless of background.

• Embed Fairness by Design: 
Establish transparent pathways and ethical practices that dismantle barriers before they arise—integrating fairness into every process.

• Monitor, Measure, and Iterate:
Regularly analyze performance data to identify and address disparities, ensuring that merit-based systems remain effective and fair.

By committing to these strategies, organizations can move closer to a world where merit and inclusion enhance one another—unlocking true talent and fostering innovation. In a fair system, every success genuinely reflects hard work, creativity, and dedication.

Let’s work together to build environments where everyone has the opportunity to thrive. How does your organization balance merit and inclusion? Share your thoughts in the comments below.

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Some people might say I’m a wee bit outspoken—and honestly, I take that as a compliment. I come by it honestly. My parents raised me to be informed, to speak up, and to speak out. But when I look back over my adult life, I can point to one pivotal moment when my voice wasn’t just heard—it was validated. And for that, I want to thank four remarkable women who saw something in me and made space for it to grow.

It was the late 1990s. I was early in my career—long before titles like bank Senior Vice President, Vice President of a university, nonprofit leader, or board chair were attached to my name. Back then, I was simply a young woman with a passion for service and a fire in my gut for justice.

It all started with an invitation from my dear friend Angela Rowe. She asked me to attend a meeting, the very first gathering of what would become the Virginia Foundation for Women. The organization was being launched by Mary Sue Terry—the former Virginia Attorney General, the first woman to hold statewide office in Virginia, and one of the few to do so anywhere in the country. Also in the room were trailblazers like Viola Baskerville, who I knew from volunteering on her successful city council campaign (before she became a Delegate and then Secretary of Administration), and Claire Guthrie Gastañaga, the first woman to serve as Chief Deputy Attorney General of Virginia.

I still remember how energized I felt at that meeting. After Mary Sue spoke, she opened the floor for questions. I raised my hand. At the time, the hot-button issue was “welfare to work,” and I had a concern: Would this new organization truly center all women—or only focus on the needs of affluent and professional women?

So I asked:
“What will this new organization do to help poor women—women being targeted by new welfare-to-work policies—get the training necessary for sustainable employment?”

Mary Sue didn’t dodge the question. She didn’t give me a polished, PR-safe answer. Instead, she looked me in the eye and asked,
“Are you willing to be part of the solution? If so, we can get started tonight.”

And that’s exactly what happened.

She introduced me to Carolyn Lambert, a powerhouse in human services. Carolyn simply said, “We’ll craft a plan together.” And we did. By the next meeting, I had worked with Carolyn to sketch out the beginnings of what would become the Welfare Transition Program. But I had no idea what was coming next.

At that second meeting, the press showed up. We gathered on the steps for a press conference. When a reporter asked a question about why the organization was necessary, Mary Sue turned and said,
“I’ll have someone else answer that.”

I don’t know if it was Claire or Viola—or both—who gently pushed me forward, but suddenly, there I was, at my very first press conference, answering a reporter’s question. When I finished, I turned to look at Mary Sue, Viola, Claire, and Carolyn. I couldn’t tell if the look on their faces was pride, surprise, or the shared realization that they had just found their newest project. Either way, from that day forward, they poured into me—mentoring, advising, trusting, and challenging me.

Over the next few years, I was traveling across Virginia, helping to develop and implement the Welfare Transition Program, advocating for low-income women, and making sure their voices were part of the conversation. I was no longer just speaking—I was being heard.

And now, more than 30 years later, we find ourselves at another pivotal moment. Virginia is poised to elect its first woman governor in the midst of a raging culture war that demands bold, grassroots leadership. But more than that, this moment is calling out for something else:
Women mentors.

So the question is this:
What are we doing to mentor the next generation of boldly outspoken women leaders?

Today, I look back with deep appreciation for Mary Sue, Viola, Claire, and Carolyn—four women who created space for me, lifted me up, and handed me the mic when it mattered most.

Now it’s my turn.

And I’m committed to pouring into others what they so graciously poured into me.

The Dream, Revisited: A Story on the Anniversary of Dr. King’s Assassination

As this day comes to a close, I’m reflecting on a heavy truth—today marks 57 years since Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated on April 4, 1968.

A bullet silenced the man, but not the movement.

Dr. King was taken from us just five years after his “I Have a Dream” speech and four years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which outlawed segregation and discrimination in public spaces, schools, and employment.

His death wasn’t just the loss of a leader—it was an assault on the ideals he lived and died for: racial equality, nonviolence, and the radical hope of a Beloved Community where everyone could share in the dignity and wealth of the earth.

I was born after the Civil Rights Act. My generation is, in many ways, the dream realized. We walked through doors opened by the courage of those before us. And yet, on this day, I reflect not just with reverence—but with alarm.

Because if Dr. King were alive today, I believe he would weep.

Not just for what still exists—racism, voter suppression, erasure of history—but for what has quietly returned.

For the first time in 61 years, segregation is legal again in the United States.

In February 2025, the General Services Administration issued a memo outlining changes following a new executive order on diversity, equity, and inclusion. One change? The repeal of a 1965 executive order banning segregation among federal contractors.

The federal government no longer explicitly prohibits segregated restaurants, waiting rooms, or drinking fountains by its contractors.

This isn’t a legal technicality. It’s a moral failure.

So today—on this solemn anniversary—we must recognize that the dream is not a memory. It’s a mandate.

And now, 57 years after his death, it is our turn to answer.

As I honor Dr. King, I also honor those in my own family who stood with him:
    •    Aunt Vera Rahming Ward and Uncle Alfred Ward, who marched with Dr. King in Washington, D.C.
    •    Cousin Johnny Johnson, an attorney who dismantled segregation through the courts—opening venues like the Orange Bowl Stadium and Miami Springs Golf Club once closed to Black Americans.

Their courage lives in me.

Their legacy—and Dr. King’s—is not only remembered, but continued.

#MLK #CivilRights #Leadership #Equity #BelovedCommunity #Legacy

Photo: 23rd Annual MLK Community Celebration & Drum Major Awards. I serve each year as mistress of ceremonies and on the planning committee.

Challenging False Narratives About Welfare in America

It’s time to reject the false narratives about who receives welfare in America. When asked to picture a welfare recipient, many imagine a young Black single mother with children. This stereotype is not just misleading—it’s a deliberate lie that has shaped public perception for decades. And when you start with a lie, it becomes easier to justify the policies and rhetoric that follow.

The reality? 75% of welfare recipients are white, while 25% are all minority groups combined—a fact backed by the U.S. Census Bureau (I’ve included a chart from the most recent census data).

I first learned these numbers 20 years ago while working closely with United Way. I remember questioning why the brochures I saw primarily featured people of color as welfare recipients when the actual demographics told a different story. My voice was heard, and the organization took steps to better reflect the truth. That moment mattered.

Today, it saddens me to see people on social media claiming that Black Americans and other minorities are responsible for the national deficit due to so-called “handouts.” Not only is this untrue, but it distracts from the real issue: ensuring that all people in need receive support, regardless of race.

That is what a great nation does. Let’s focus on truth and compassion—not harmful myths.