Why Equity Matters

I am a multi-passionate person. High on my list, alongside holding women accountable to live their best lives, is providing beautiful, safe housing for those who have been disadvantaged over the years. An experience during my college years, which I explore in depth in the article below, was the catalyst for this commitment.

I spent nearly a year trying to get this article published, reaching out to numerous outlets without hearing back. Eventually, I realized this was an opportunity to combine my two passions: Accountability Coaching and Housing Equity. Accountability is about finding a way to achieve your vision, no matter what, and this became my way. By using my own platform, I found a path forward to share my voice. I hope it moves you to take action, no matter how small, in your own life. 

Why Equity Matters 

By Melissa Uppelschoten, Aspiring Developer, Property Manager, Renovator, Accountability Coach

Decades after the Civil Rights Movement, and more than 15 years after Atlanta elected its first Black mayor, my sorority denied membership to a young Black woman solely based on her skin color. Let that sink in. This wasn’t the 1950s. It was the early 1990s. And while I won’t name the college or the sorority, the truth is: it could have been almost anywhere in the South. That’s how deeply racism was, and still is, embedded in our institutions, traditions, and yes, in us.

It was rush week, the introductory week for sorority and fraternity recruitment. All week, excited students floated from one house to the next, attending social events and making connections. At the end of each night, the sorority sisters voted on who was a “fit,” inviting some women back and eliminating others.

Day 1

I connected instantly with the most vibrant, engaging young woman. Let’s call her Sally. She was the first Black girl to rush our sorority; in fact, no predominantly white sorority on our campus had ever had a Black member. As one of the original founders of our sorority, I believed I had enough influence to make sure she had a fair chance, if she also felt we were a fit. I introduced her to every open-minded member I knew, conscious that others might reject her solely because of the color of her skin. When I think back on it now, I can’t imagine the courage it took for Sally to step through those doors at all. Thankfully, she was invited back.

Day 2

Repeat. Sally and I met again, and again I walked her to members who I knew would see her for who she was. She sailed through another round.

Day 3

The same, until voting time. Suddenly, Sally was out. When I asked why, no one responded. I stood and said, “I will not sit down until someone can explain why Sally was not a good fit for our sorority.” Silence. Finally, one officer muttered, “What would our alumni think?”

There it was. Sally met every criteria, except one. Her skin color.

At the time, I had just launched a student group called Students Against Discrimination, formed after a racist incident in one of our dorms. I replied, “I’m the founder of Students Against Discrimination, and you’re telling me I’m part of an organization that is blatantly discriminating?” More silence. Not one person backed me up.

I sat down. Stunned.

For years I’ve told my kids, now college students themselves, that my biggest regret was not walking out of that room. But over time, my perspective shifted. I sat there that night sobbing uncontrollably for an hour while the meeting continued. Every woman in that room carries the memory of those sobs. I left the sorority a few months later.

Twenty-plus years later, I ran into a former sorority sister at my corporate job. She told me she has never forgotten that night. I still can’t shake the disbelief that among sixty smart young women, many I considered friends, not a single person stood with me.

What saddens me most is that this moment was a tiny glimpse into what Black Americans endure daily. People often argue that hard work and merit should determine success. But when individuals are kept out of sororities, schools, neighborhoods, and boardrooms because of their skin color, how can we pretend equal opportunity exists? As Paul Wellstone said, “When we all do better, we all do better.” Moving forward requires acknowledging past wrongs and committing to doing better.

One way I’ve committed to doing better is through expanding housing access - one of the most fundamental human needs. After a 27 year corporate career, I began rehabbing houses and later became a landlord. One of my proudest moments was selling a home I renovated (with help from many!) to the couple who had been renting it and had welcomed their first child there. Handing them those keys remains one of my husband and my favorite memories.

I now own three rental homes through Atlanta Housing’s Housing Choice Voucher program (formerly Section 8). Over the years, I’ve gotten to know the incredible families who live in them. One tenant is a vivacious 80 year old woman raising her disabled grandson. When he was two, a stray bullet, meant for a drug dealer next door - ricocheted into their home and struck him as he played on the sofa. Doctors told her he might not live, much less thrive. But she and her grandson proved them wrong. When she shared the story, I teared up. She quickly said, “Those better be tears of joy, because God let me have my baby!” It is an honor to provide their home. And it is heartbreaking that restrictive housing policies, outlined in Richard Rothstein’s The Color of Law, have long forced families of color into unsafe and under-resourced environments.

Another initiative I’m pursuing is developing land I own near that tenant. My goal is a safe, beautiful community where people of diverse incomes, ages, and backgrounds can thrive together. My vision is “revitalization, not gentrification,” a phrase I learned from community organizer Jean-Pierre Bourget. I hope more mission-driven developers join this movement, prioritizing not just profits, but also people when it comes to housing.

The current political trend of defunding DEI initiatives makes no sense to me. If anything, we should be increasing funding. And for those who only care about numbers, McKinsey reports that companies in the top quartile for ethnic diversity see a 27% financial advantage. 

Recently I saw a photo from my former sorority. Today, its membership spans all backgrounds and skin tones. That gives me hope for the generations coming behind us.

Equity matters.