Erased Data, Erased Lives: What Disappearing Federal Equity Resources Mean for Nonprofits, Philanthropy, and the Fight for Racial Justice
Since January 2025, a wave of Executive Orders has sought to “correct” the perceived excesses of the federal government’s Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives. Sweeping in scope, these mandates have reached into every corner of government operations—including the critical infrastructure of federal data collection.
In a space where objective information should remain untouched by political influence, we now witness a dangerous redefinition of truth itself. Under this administration, facts are no longer neutral points of reference; they are conditional—valid only when they align with a particular ideology.
Federal websites—once revered as trusted, authoritative sources for timely and relevant data—have been systematically stripped of critical, life-saving information and essential historical records. Institutions like the Centers for Disease Control, the National Institutes of Health, the Census Bureau, and the Department of Justice have all experienced significant content removals. By February 2025, more than 8,000 pages had disappeared from federal databases under the guise of complying with the administration’s new Executive Order on DEI.
Yet the concern extends beyond what has already been erased. There is growing unease that even the data left behind may have been altered or selectively presented, undermining its credibility. Compounding this crisis, the administration has proposed funding cuts and revoked federal research grants. These actions are making it increasingly difficult for scientists, public health experts, and social scientists to collect new data. Without historical data and few ways to collect new data, policy changes for critical aspects of life—such as education, housing, food insecurity, and environmental protections—are at serious risk.
These actions align directly with the framework outlined in Project 2025, a detailed policy blueprint intended to guide a second Trump administration in completing what the first could not: the systematic dismantling of democratic institutions, the suppression of accountability, and the erosion of mechanisms that give marginalized people a voice in shaping their futures. In Part 18 of the document, addressing the Department of Labor and related agencies, the proposal explicitly calls for the elimination of EEO-1 data collection on employment statistics based on race and ethnicity.
As the document states, this data "can then be used to support a charge of discrimination under a disparate impact theory," warning that it could lead to "racial quotas to remedy alleged race discrimination." It then argues that “crudely categorizing employees by race or ethnicity fails to recognize the diversity of the American workforce and forces individuals into categories that do not fully reflect their racial and ethnic heritage” (Project 2025, p. 583).
The High Stakes of Information Suppression in Equity Work
The proposed erasure of employment data dismantles a critical foundation of nonprofit and philanthropic work. These data sets are more than statistics—they are essential tools for exposing wage discrimination, mapping economic disparities, and challenging the structures that entrench inequality. Without them, our ability to substantiate injustice weakens, making it harder to demand accountability, craft effective solutions, or advocate for policies that advance racial and economic equity.
This is not a theoretical loss—it is a direct threat to the work happening on the ground. For those organizing in communities, delivering vital services, and fighting for systemic change, credible data provides a shared language for understanding the social and economic terrain. It helps nonprofits co-create solutions with the communities they serve, turning local knowledge into actionable strategies and fundable narratives. But without credible, accessible data, how can nonprofits build a compelling case for action? How can they sway policymakers or secure the philanthropic investments necessary to sustain their work? And more troubling still, if manipulated or incomplete data becomes accepted as truth, how will future leaders even recognize the realities these communities face when the official record tells a different, more palatable, story?
For grant writers and those working in the fundraising field, this moment presents an especially complex and urgent challenge. Access to reliable data—on racial equity, maternal health disparities, educational outcomes, wage gaps, and countless other social indicators—is not a luxury; it is a foundational tool for building credible needs assessments, designing effective programs, driving community advocacy, and developing competitive grant applications. Data provides the evidence base that transforms lived experiences into actionable policy proposals and persuades funders that the issues confronting marginalized communities are both real and solvable. Without it, our ability to make the case for investment, partnership, and sustained support is severely weakened.
And that is precisely the point. Making it harder to access this data—and thereby harder to create the collateral that shapes public understanding—is not a bureaucratic oversight; it is a calculated strategy. When people cannot effectively tell their stories in ways that resonate with those in power, their truths begin to fade from public consciousness. Over time, their struggles become less visible, less urgent, and ultimately, less believed. This is not an accidental byproduct of policy shifts; it is an intentional effort to silence communities by undermining the very tools required to advocate for themselves.
If this moment feels eerily familiar, it is because history has repeatedly shown us where such patterns lead. Authoritarian regimes rarely seize control overnight. They begin by controlling information—erasing inconvenient data, silencing independent inquiry, and rewriting collective memory. What starts with the erasure of facts inevitably leads to the erasure of people—first from historical narratives, and then, more devastatingly, from lived reality.
The Moment Demands Us: A Call to Protect Truth, Equity, and Community Power
So what can we do to resist this seemingly unstoppable momentum? We fight back—with urgency, with courage, and with unwavering commitment. Now is the time to embrace what Senator John Lewis so powerfully called “Good Trouble.”
Scientists and academics are already pushing back through legal challenges, refusing to comply with arbitrary restrictions that stifle critical thought and hinder societal progress. Librarians and data scientists are working tirelessly to preserve and archive what has been erased, safeguarding truth for future generations.
As nonprofit leaders and fundraising professionals, we must raise our voices to create an undeniable groundswell of resistance against this deliberate erasure. In this critical moment, we are called to be storytellers, advocates, and protectors of truth. We must stand alongside the communities we serve, amplifying their voices when others try to silence them and illuminating their realities when others choose to look away. And we must speak boldly—not only about the irreparable harm these policies inflict on marginalized communities but also about the threat they pose to the very fabric of our democracy and the future of every citizen in this nation.
And for those who fund the initiatives of nonprofits, scientists, and social entrepreneurs: you must join us. Your resources, insight, and connections are not just valuable; they are essential in this fight. In this unprecedented moment, you have the opportunity to become a catalyst for hope and a defender of truth.
History will remember 2025 as a pivotal year—a piercing clarion call that summoned those with the courage to stand up, speak out, and take action. The only question is: Will you answer that call?