OPINION: Lessons in fairness: Affirmative action and the fight for opportunity

By Selika Sweet, MD

JA Guest Writer

I first learned about the complexities of fairness in education through the story of Allan Bakke, a would-be medical student suing the University of California–Davis Medical School in the 1970s. The school reserved 16 of 100 seats for minority applicants. Bakke argued that the policy discriminated against white candidates. His case reached the U.S. Supreme Court in Regents of the University of California v. Bakke (1978), which struck down rigid racial quotas but affirmed race could be considered as one factor in admissions. The decision ignited fierce national debates about race, opportunity, and justice in higher education.

At that same time, I was sitting in an honors American history class at Murrah High School in Jackson, Mississippi. Out of 30 students, only two of us were Black. One day, during a classroom discussion, I told my teacher the composition of our class reflected affirmative action – and I thought it was unfair. That offhand comment became the seed for a paper I later wrote on segregation within our supposedly “integrated” school. The pattern across Jackson Public Schools was undeniable: Black students were overrepresented in special education while white students dominated gifted and honors programs. How could a district that was racially balanced – roughly half Black and half white – produce such stark disparities? My teacher was furious at my critique, but for me the experience was a turning point.

Family shaped my perspective as well. I had older siblings in law school in Washington, D.C. I overheard their spirited debates about the Bakke case, merit, and fairness. From them, I came to understand opportunity in America was never just about talent or effort. It was – and remains – shaped by systems, policies, and preferences. I also realized I wanted a career where subjective opinion and prejudice could not dictate my future. Medicine, with its constant demand and its clear necessity in every community, seemed to promise a more level field.

Yet the inequities I noticed as a teenager never disappeared. Preferential treatment has always existed in higher education, though it has often benefited the privileged. Legacy admissions at Ivy League schools guarantee generations of wealthy families preserve their access, while scandals like the 2019 college admissions case – exposing how parents such as actress Lori Loughlin and fashion designer Mossimo Giannulli used bribery to secure spots for their children – showed how money and influence can buy opportunities denied to others. These practices are forms of affirmative action too – though tilted toward advantage, not equity.

The issue resurfaced in my own life through my daughter’s experience. She earned a perfect 36 in English/Writing on the ACT – one of the highest scores in the nation. Yet when opportunities arose in Mississippi, such as a position for a medical student editor, she was overlooked. I encouraged her to look elsewhere. She did – and her drive took her to ABC, CNN, and work alongside Dr. Sanjay Gupta. Today she is a pediatrician, a medical correspondent, and, at times, the best writing coach for whom I could ask. Her journey demonstrates how talent and persistence can triumph, but it also illustrates how systems often force young Black people to leave their communities to find opportunity.

Nearly twenty-five years ago, Justice Sandra Day O’Connor, writing in a concurring opinion in Grutter v. Bollinger (2003), predicted affirmative action would no longer be necessary in 25 years. In 2023 – almost to the year – the Supreme Court’s conservative majority, led by Chief Justice John Roberts and joined by Justice Clarence Thomas, ended race-conscious college admissions in Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard/UNC. Their decision, built on reasoning detached from both history and present realities, dismissed the ongoing barriers students of color face. Ironically, it also overlooked the fact white women have been among the greatest beneficiaries of affirmative action policies.

This rollback did not stand alone. A decade earlier, in Shelby County v. Holder (2013), the Court gutted key provisions of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, eliminating federal oversight of states with histories of racial discrimination in voting. That rule enabled states such as Texas to redraw congressional districts in ways that dilute minority representation, sometimes even between official Census cycles. These actions are not accidents. They reflect a broader, systematic effort to weaken rights that were won through decades of struggle, sacrifice, and blood.

The lesson I first grasped in that high school classroom remains clear: fairness is not inevitable. It does not arrive naturally with the passage of time. Fairness must be fought for – protected with vigilance, persistence, and an unshakable refusal to accept inequality as normal.

Affirmative action, voting rights, and civil rights were never gifts. They were victories wrestled by a resistant system by courageous activists. History reminds us progress is fragile and reversible. If we fail to defend it, we risk not only losing what has been gained but also possibilities for our children and generations who are yet unborn.

For me, fairness is not an abstract principle; it is a lived truth, shaped in classrooms, courtrooms, and family conversations. It is the recognition the fight for opportunity is ongoing. And it is a call to never remain passive in the face of injustice. We cannot afford to fail again.