Introduction

Racism in America is not a relic. It is a system—evolving, adaptable, and deeply entrenched in the policies, institutions, and everyday practices that shape life chances. But systems don't act on their own. People design them. People maintain them. And people suffer under them. Dismantling systemic racism is not a future goal; it's a present necessity. It requires more than a technocratic fix. It demands a reckoning with lived experiences and a commitment to transformation rooted in evidence and truth. We must change the rules but center the people because the system is not abstract. It is intimate. It devastates in personal terms—and that's exactly where the work must begin.

Systems Harm, But the Harm Is Personal

Systemic racism hides behind neutral language—zoning laws, "colorblind" admissions policies, facial recognition, and standardized testing. But these so-called neutral systems consistently deliver disparate harm. The school funding algorithm doesn't have a face but starves Black and Brown schools. Hospital protocols don't carry a badge, but they ignore pain in Black, Indigenous, and Asian bodies. AI doesn't wear a hood but replicates decades of discriminatory policing.

The system was built to function like this. That's the point. And the impact isn't abstract—it's a child handcuffed at school, an elder attacked in public, a pregnant woman left to die in a hospital bed. That's what structural racism looks like up close. And if we can't start there, we're not serious about change.

Numbers Matter, but Stories Make Them Unignorable

Yes, we need data. We need disaggregated numbers, racial impact reports, and disparity indices. But numbers are not neutral either. They often reflect the limits of what systems are willing to measure and can't capture what people are forced to endure.

Data shows us how widespread the harm is. But it doesn't tell us how it feels to be expelled at five years old. It doesn't explain what it means to bury a loved one whose death was preventable but not prioritized. It won't capture the exhaustion of being constantly policed, second-guessed, surveilled, and erased.

When stories and data work together, they expose the full picture. One woman's story of medical neglect is powerful. With the same outcome, one thousand stories across ten states become an indictment. And indictments—when told right—demand action.

Human-Centered Policy Is Not Optional

Too often, policy is created without the people most affected, even in the room. At best, they're consulted after the fact. At worst, their existence is erased altogether. That is not equity. That is performance. Policymakers, in particular, have a crucial role in this fight. They must be held accountable for their decisions. They should actively involve the communities they serve in the policy-making process.

A human-centered approach demands that those directly impacted define the problem, craft the solutions, and hold institutions accountable for outcomes. It requires shifting power, not just tweaking programs. It means measuring success in lives protected, voices amplified, harm reduced—and in whether people finally live free of fear and structural abuse.

We cannot afford to treat people's lives as policy experiments. The margin of error is too high. And the price is too often paid in blood.

Storytelling Is a Weapon—Use It to Inspire Change

Storytelling has always been a tool of resistance. Enslaved people used it to pass down truth under threat of death. Immigrants used it to challenge exclusion. Asian American communities have used it to reclaim histories erased from textbooks. Indigenous nations have used it to protect culture and memory against centuries of erasure.

We're not telling stories for sympathy. We're telling them for power, to build pressure, to mobilize action, and to rehumanize what the system has dehumanized.

That means creating platforms for communities to tell their own stories without distortion, without white intermediaries, and without being trimmed to fit nonprofit talking points. It means funding oral histories, independent media, art, and archives that preserve what America tries to forget.

Institutions Must Be Held Accountable—To People

Accountability means more than a report or an apology. It means confronting the people harmed and responding with repair—not rhetoric. School districts with racial disparities in discipline shouldn't just publish data. They should sit in rooms with the students and families they've pushed out and ask: What does repair look like to you?

Hospitals failing Black, Brown, Indigenous, and Asian women should not hide behind protocols. They should face grieving families. They should make policy changes shaped by those most affected. And they should pay for what they've done.

Community oversight, survivor-led review boards, truth commissions, and reparations councils must become non-negotiable tools of structural redress. These mechanisms are not just suggestions but essential components of a comprehensive strategy to address systemic racism. They can provide a platform for the marginalized's voices to be heard and ensure that those responsible for perpetuating racism are held accountable.

Protect the Storyteller

Too often, Black, Brown, Indigenous, and Asian people are expected to bleed in public just to be believed. Retell their trauma for panels, task forces, and media pieces—while the audience claps and moves on.

This is not justice. It is exploitation dressed as inclusion. Ethical storytelling must be consent-based, trauma-informed, and agency-driven. No one should be expected to relieve pain to make systems move. If institutions need more stories to act, the problem isn't proof—it's power.

Stories Must Lead to Action

We are living in an era of deliberate denial—where even saying "systemic racism" is labeled controversial. Where DEI is dismantled, and an honest history is outlawed. In this climate, storytelling becomes defiance. It becomes a shield and a sword.

But we must go further. The story ends in applause, but no action is unfinished. A testimony that doesn't shift policy is still a wound. We must connect every story to organizing, every truth to advocacy, every painful account to a concrete demand: Fund us, protect us, and repair what you broke.

Conclusion: Change the System, Center, the People

Dismantling systemic racism is not about "reform." It is about reimagining power, redistributing resources, and elevating the voices America has tried for centuries to silence.

This work is not technical. It is deeply human. We must never forget that behind every data point is a child, a parent, or a person trying to live. Black, Brown, Indigenous, and Asian lives are not side notes in America's story. They are central. And so are their truths.

Don't fix the system by forgetting the people. Change the system by listening to and standing with them until it bends.

Because this isn't about "diversity." It's about justice. And justice starts with believing people when they tell you what this country has done to them—and doing everything in your power to make sure it never happens again.

 Vernellia R. Randall, Professor Emerita of Law, University of Dayton School of Law.