Trump’s State of the Union speech may have been a spectacle, but it was also a symptom—not just of America’s political divide but of something more profound. The U.S. is undergoing an identity crisis, and the battle over “wokeness,” DEI, and racial/gender politics isn’t just about domestic policy. It’s about who America believes deserves power, authority, and equal footing in society. And if the U.S. struggles to see non-white Americans and women as equals at home, how can it possibly engage with non-Western nations, particularly those in Asia and Africa, and female leaders as equal partners abroad?
This crisis isn’t just weakening America from within—it’s changing how the world perceives the U.S. Once viewed as a champion of democracy and human rights, many are beginning to view America as a country that preaches equality while actively undermining it. If this trend continues, the U.S. won’t just lose influence; it will lose respect.
For decades, the U.S. championed racial and gender diversity—not always in practice, but certainly in rhetoric. Civil rights movements in America set global precedents. Affirmative action policies influenced hiring and education worldwide. The idea that diversity leads to strength was not just a domestic slogan but part of America’s soft power.
But now, that narrative is crumbling. States are banning DEI programs, affirmative action has been dismantled, and corporate diversity efforts are quietly being rolled back. The Supreme Court’s rejection of affirmative action and the growing hostility toward DEI initiatives signal a shift away from inclusivity—one that is not just political but structural.
This regression isn’t happening in a vacuum. Across industries, Black and minority leaders are being removed from corporate and government positions. The dismissal of leaders like Gwynne Wilcox from the National Labor Relations Board and General Charles Q. Brown Jr. as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff point to a growing trend: a retreat from diversity at the highest levels of leadership.
Meanwhile, education is being rewritten. Books discussing systemic racism and gender inequality are being banned or challenged, reinforcing a whitewashed version of history that downplays the struggles of marginalized communities. These moves are not just internal political battles—they shape how America presents itself to the world.
One of the most unexpected shifts in the DEI debate is its rejection not just by conservative politicians, but also by some of the most powerful corporate leaders in Silicon Valley. Executives like Mark Zuckerberg have openly questioned or scaled back corporate DEI efforts, arguing that diversity initiatives should not come at the expense of merit.
This signals something deeper: Corporate America is recalibrating its stance on diversity, not just due to political pressure but also economic shifts. Many executives argue that DEI hiring practices could hurt efficiency or lead to hiring that isn’t based purely on merit. Tech leaders—who once positioned themselves as progressive—are now aligning more with conservative arguments against DEI, which suggests that America’s shift away from diversity isn’t just cultural but also economic.
The DEI rollback mirrors similar program cuts and layoffs at major companies, including McDonald’s, Ford Motor Company, Jack Daniels, Molson Coors, Tractor Supply, John Deere, Amazon, and Walmart. These companies have either scaled back DEI hiring practices, eliminated diversity leadership roles, or distanced themselves from external diversity benchmarks. Meanwhile, Microsoft, Apple, and Costco have rejected calls to dismantle DEI programs, arguing that doing so would undermine efforts to foster workplace equity and reduce systemic bias.
The shift isn’t limited to Silicon Valley. Elon Musk, now leading the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), has implemented aggressive cost-cutting measures across federal agencies, mirroring his previous tactics at Twitter (X). Jeff Bezos has overhauled The Washington Post’s opinion section to align more with libertarian ideals, leading to backlash from longtime subscribers. Stephen A. Schwarzman, CEO of Blackstone Group, has doubled down on his support for Trump, reinforcing the growing alignment between corporate America and the conservative rejection of DEI.
If even the heads of the world’s most influential IT companies and financial firms are stepping away from DEI, this raises a pressing question: Is America’s economic elite abandoning diversity as a core value? If so, this could accelerate the global decline of DEI as not just a policy framework but as a guiding business principle. It could also reshape America’s competitive landscape, making the country less attractive to international talent while reinforcing exclusionary hiring practices.
America’s racial and gender hierarchy does not stop at its borders. It influences how U.S. leaders, corporations, and diplomats engage with the rest of the world, often determining who is seen as a legitimate partner and who is treated with condescension.
Western nations, particularly European allies, are instinctively considered serious and equal partners. Meanwhile, Asian and African nations, despite their economic and technological advances, are frequently framed as “developing” or in need of Western guidance. Japan is often afforded more diplomatic weight than many of its Asian neighbors, with the U.S. treating it as a particularly close ally due to historical and strategic reasons.
Latin America is viewed through a security and migration lens rather than as a vital economic partner. Despite their rapid economic growth, African nations are still primarily discussed in terms of foreign aid rather than innovation and business opportunities. Even the language American leaders use reinforces these biases. When President Trump referred to certain developing nations as “shithole countries,” it wasn’t just a racist remark—it was a clear signal that U.S. leadership still ranks countries based on outdated racial and economic prejudices rather than merit or strategic value.
Recent geopolitical events have also made Japan question just how secure its alliance with the U.S. really is. After the controversy surrounding Trump’s treatment of the Ukrainian president and the wavering of U.S. commitments to allies, many in Japan are now wondering: Could we be next?
For decades, Japan has relied on the U.S. security umbrella, trusting that its military alliance would hold firm in times of crisis. However, the instability of Trump and his political allies has introduced a new level of uncertainty. If a transactional approach to alliances becomes the norm, Japan may find itself vulnerable to abrupt shifts in American foreign policy, just as Ukraine did.
This uncertainty raises pressing questions: Will the U.S. continue to honor its commitments under the second Trump administration? Could Japan find itself abandoned if its strategic value is questioned? And what does this mean for the broader stability of the Asia-Pacific region?
For much of modern history, the U.S. has dictated the terms of global engagement. But in a world that is increasingly multilateral, diverse, and led by nations outside the West, the U.S. must decide whether it will adapt—or cling to outdated power dynamics.
If America cannot accept true equality within its own borders—across race, gender, and class— then it will struggle to command respect beyond them. And if it continues to push racialized and gendered thinking as the norm, then it will no longer be seen as the standard-bearer of democracy—it will be seen as a cautionary tale. Or worse, cause a cascade of countries catering to their more reactionary instincts, to the detriment of inclusivity and diversity in workplaces worldwide.
As America continues down a path that appears destined for division and diminished influence, what will it take for the nation to wake up and confront the long-term consequences of its trajectory—before it’s too late? I will explore this in a future article.
