My grandmother, whom my family affectionately referred to as “Bay” because she was the youngest of her siblings, was one of the wisest people I’ve ever known—especially when you consider the fact that she only had an eighth-grade education. She would often tell me, “If you don’t stand for somethin’ you’ll fall for nothin’.” She would impart crucial life lessons to her grandchildren by telling stories about what it was like to grow up picking cotton for a living in the Deep South. Even though she wasn’t born a slave, she was only a generation and a half removed from it. She never lost sight of the fact that there were things in life about which she remained hopeful that her grandchildren would not have to experience—like the gripping fear of a chance encounter with the police, or the life-and-death consequences of being in the wrong part of town past sundown. I remember her stroking my face with the biggest smile and tears glistening on her checks because, as she put it, I was a sweet-faced boy whose smile reminded her of Emmett Till, a black teenager who was lynched in Mississippi in 1955.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but those seemingly random moments with Bay, simultaneously shedding tears of joy and sorrow, helped shape the way I view the world. The stories she shared were her way of offering correction and instruction on how to walk in the world as a black boy, soon to become a man. Like a skilled farmer, she knew how to plant seeds of faith, respect, hope, a sense of justice and integrity for those who would come after her to leave this place better than we found it. It was because of her guidance and my parents’ sacrifices that I have been tremendously blessed to attend and work at some of the finest institutions in the nation. Still, as I watch the evening news, I waver between embodying the hope she exuded and succumbing to the harsh reality of her cautious words reminding me that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

When I think about today’s conversations revolving around diversity and inclusion, I’m struck by how difficult it has become for us to listen to each other, especially how hard it is to listen to views that don’t mesh with our own. It’s no secret the University of Wisconsin–Madison had a rough spring 2016 with incidents of racial bias making headlines. But what most folks don’t realize is that spring 2016 was not atypical. What was unusual about it was the fact that the challenges were front and center like never before. In my mind, that represents progress.

As we wind down 2016, I’d like for us to think about a few steps worth taking on that road to progress:

We need to recognize that individual values shape organizational values. The challenges we face when addressing systemic barriers to diversity and inclusion and how we face them say a lot about our values. It’s important to recognize that the challenges didn’t emerge overnight, nor will solutions magically eliminate them overnight. For some of us, it takes courage to stand unequivocally committed to an ideal or value and to do so publicly. It takes even more courage, and great wisdom, to know when that stance needs to be modified. In my experience, that wisdom emerges when we seek to understand those who are different from us. We become more informed about the world in which we live and, dare I say, more appreciative of our differences as they become unique backdrops for the things we have in common.

We must establish a culture of expectation and engagement around issues of diversity, equity and inclusion. I know many of my colleagues cringe at the notion of something being required, especially if it is perceived to be a form of “indoctrination” that conflicts with the core values of academic freedom and freedom of speech. Let me be clear: I too reject any form of indoctrination that everyone must adhere to, especially if it limits the opportunity for rigorous discussion. I am as passionate about the values of free speech as the next person. What I take issue with is the idea that by emphasizing critical engagement of issues related to diversity, equity and inclusion, we are somehow perpetuating a form of indoctrination. By that logic, rejecting slavery, fighting against abject poverty and human trafficking or supporting the rights of our LGBTQ brothers and sisters could be viewed as forms of indoctrination. Those struggles are born out of a sense of commitment and convictions to do the right thing. Obviously, we still have a long way to go on these fronts, and remaining on the sidelines of these issues seems less and less feasible. I’m encouraged by the cultural shifts that are happening because, as a community, we are expecting more from each other to critically engage.

Engaging diversity and inclusion is a vital component of personal and professional development. No community has ever been transformed for the better by one-off experiences that are supposed to address all of the complexities of racism, sexism and xenophobia in about an hour and a half. The engagement must be organizationally sustained and professionally sought by all members of the campus community.

Progress will demand of us some tough decisions—some born of our free will, others inspired by a sense of professional and moral obligation. Despite the highly polarizing responses we’ve seen this year to how we collectively engage issues of diversity and inclusion, I keep coming back to that hope my grandmother had for those who are part of that next generation. And it is that hope that gives me the strength to, as Bay used to say, “Keep on keepin’ on.”