A dozen years ago, young Black and Brown high school seniors across Michigan opened their University of Michigan acceptance letters with pride in their hearts and the promise of financial relief. For nearly 900 students, that promise had a name—LEAD. It was more than a scholarship program; it was a direct response to a system that shut the door on Affirmative Action and dared to say diversity still mattered. That door has now been slammed shut once again.
The University of Michigan’s LEAD Scholars program is no longer. It ended last week with a short statement and no press conference. “The Alumni Association of the University of Michigan is discontinuing the LEAD Scholars program, effective immediately,” read a notice posted to the Association’s website. “This decision is necessary to comply with all applicable laws.”
The decision didn’t come out of nowhere. Political tides have been shifting, and the pressure on higher education institutions to abandon programs aimed at equity has been mounting. But for those familiar with Michigan’s long fight for racial justice in education, the abruptness of this announcement struck a nerve. The LEAD program was birthed out of a necessity—a way to bridge a gap created when Michigan voters banned Affirmative Action policies in 2006. That statewide decision, rooted in Proposal 2, stripped public institutions like the University of Michigan of the tools they once used to foster racial diversity.
That didn’t stop the community from stepping in.
The Alumni Association, though technically separate from the university as an independent nonprofit, created LEAD in 2008. It was a direct effort to continue recruiting and retaining underrepresented racial and ethnic minority students on merit-based scholarships. For years, it stood as a symbol of resistance—a way to support students who otherwise would be overlooked in a post-Affirmative Action world. Since its launch, LEAD supported around 900 students, helping to maintain some semblance of diversity at one of the state’s most elite institutions.
That legacy now sits in limbo.
For current LEAD scholars, the Association has assured them their scholarships will not be affected this academic year. “The Alumni Association will work with current LEAD Scholars, making them aware of other available financial options and opportunities so they can continue their studies,” the statement read. But there was no mention of what happens after that, no roadmap for future students, and no replacement program in sight.
This silence echoes louder than any statement.
Decisions like this don’t happen in a vacuum. The announcement didn’t name the source of legal pressure explicitly, but the timing is difficult to ignore. President Donald Trump’s administration has taken a vocal stance against Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives at colleges and universities across the country. The University of Michigan has not been spared. Trump has consistently used federal power and public rhetoric to target institutions that he and his administration believe are “biased” toward promoting diversity. The LEAD program may have been next on that list.
Rather than waiting for a legal battle, the Alumni Association made a calculated move—remove the program before becoming a target. But this kind of self-censorship has consequences, especially for the students left behind.
Detroit knows this fight too well. Our students have always had to battle for access—access to books, access to safe schools, access to clean water, access to opportunity. Programs like LEAD didn’t solve everything, but they acknowledged that inequality exists. They sent a message to Black and Brown youth across Michigan that they were seen, they were worthy, and they had a place at one of the top public universities in the country.
Now, that message is being rewritten.
There’s a long-standing history of institutions shifting responsibility when equity becomes inconvenient. What began as a bold declaration to support underrepresented communities has now become another casualty of political fear. The LEAD program was never framed as race-based in the way courts could challenge directly—it was merit-based. But even that couldn’t shield it from the political landscape that has grown increasingly hostile to anything resembling support for racial equity.
Programs that once filled the void Affirmative Action left behind are now under attack from a different angle.
The cancellation of LEAD raises larger questions. How do universities uphold diversity without the necessary tools? How do students from historically marginalized communities trust institutions that fold under pressure? How long do communities have to build their own bridges only to watch them be dismantled?
These aren’t theoretical questions for Black families in Michigan. These are questions grounded in reality, in the daily decisions of students trying to determine if a school like the University of Michigan still welcomes them. What does merit mean in a system that denies how structural racism has shaped access to education in the first place?
It’s not lost on anyone paying attention that the people most affected by this decision weren’t consulted. The statement came without warning, without engagement from alumni who supported LEAD or students who benefited from it. That silence reinforces an old narrative—that decisions about our futures are often made without our voices in the room.
As a community, there is work ahead. If institutions will no longer champion our students, then that responsibility returns home. Churches, foundations, alumni networks, and community leaders have stepped up before—and they may have to again. That doesn’t mean institutions like the University of Michigan get a pass. This moment demands accountability. The people who poured into LEAD, who mentored scholars, who raised funds, who advocated for equitable education, deserve more than a quiet closure.
There’s a broader truth here that needs repeating. Education equity cannot be sustained on the backs of one or two programs. It requires systemic commitment. It requires policies that don’t fold under political scrutiny. It requires leadership that isn’t afraid to stand in the gap when students need them most.
This story doesn’t end with LEAD’s cancellation. It only shifts the responsibility—and the questions we must ask going forward. What will the University of Michigan do now to ensure its student body reflects the full diversity of this state? How will other institutions respond when their DEI initiatives come under fire?
This decision may not stop with LEAD. Other scholarships, mentorship programs, and community-driven initiatives could be next if the pattern continues.
The 900 students who came through the LEAD program carry more than a scholarship—they carry a legacy. Their degrees represent resilience in a system that was never designed with them in mind. As the Alumni Association moves forward, it must reconcile how it will support students of color without programs like LEAD.
Michigan’s Black community has always known how to build, how to rise, and how to reclaim what was taken. But that doesn’t make the loss any less heavy.
Education access is not a privilege. For too many of our children, it’s the last hope. And every program that gets stripped away chips at that hope.
This moment demands more than a press release. It demands that we pay attention, ask the hard questions, and demand that equity not be optional—but essential. Because when institutions retreat, the community has to rise. Not just with concern, but with a renewed commitment to make sure our young people still believe there’s a place for them, no matter who tries to erase it.
About Post Author
