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I was a DEI hire and I didn't know it. But I own it. That opportunity in my 20s did exactly what DEI initiatives are meant to do. It opened a door that had long been closed to many fellow African Americans with my credentials. It set the stage for my career. And I still cite it proudly in my bio: staff reporter, Fortune magazine.

The year was 1995. Back then, we didn't call it diversity, equity and inclusion. We called it affirmative action. That same year is when the Federal Glass Ceiling Commission issued two reports about "Making Full Use of the Nation's Human Capital." The commission released its first report in March 1995 and its final recommendations that November. It stated:

"The Commission recommends that all CEOs and boards of directors set companywide policies that actively promote diversity programs and policies that remove artificial barriers at every level."

As the commission pressed for corporate America to embrace diversity, I had just stepped into a role where my employer was answering the call. By November 1995, I had an office in the Time & Life Building in midtown Manhattan, reporting for the prestigious business magazine famous for its Fortune 500 and other influential business rankings.

I had met my future supervisor, Rosalind Klein Berlin, at a National Association of Black Journalists (NABJ) convention and career fair held that summer in Philadelphia. She approached me as I stood in line waiting to speak to recruiters for Time magazine about the dream job I had pined for ever since I created my school's paper in seventh grade.

Roz asked to see my résumé. I had earned a master's degree in journalism from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, interned at the Chicago Daily Defender, worked as a stringer for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, and even freelanced internationally while living in Israel. As Roz and I chatted, I never budged from the popular Time line.

Weeks later, Time hadn't called, but Fortune did. By phone, Roz asked, "So, do you want to work here or not?"

I was barely settled in the role when a fellow reporter told me the truth about my position. Roz previously had hired nearly a dozen reporters, none of whom were Black. Corporate told her to remedy that. I became the third Black reporter on staff as a result. A few months later, Roz mentioned to me that my salary came from a special diversity budget of the magazine's parent company. My white colleagues, meanwhile, were paid directly by Fortune from the start.

I am proud to have been a DEI hire if that is what it took for a major employer to notice my skills.

As the glass ceiling report stated: "Affirmative action, properly implemented, does not mean imposing quotas, allowing preferential treatment or employing or promoting unqualified people. It means opening the system and casting a wide net to recruit, train and promote opportunities for advancement for people who can contribute effectively to a corporation and, consequently, the nation's economic stability."

I am proof that opening doors to diverse talent strengthens, rather than weakens, a workplace. While I contributed to many cover stories — several about Bill Gates and other CEOs — I also offered several ideas about diversity.

My proudest achievement was pitching a new list to then-managing editor John Huey: "The Best Companies for Minorities." He approved. The list launched a couple of years later. By then, I had left the magazine. At some point, it was renamed the "Best Workplaces for Diversity," and the most recent list I found on its website was from 2019.

Fortune was a trailblazer with that list. Diversity makes a difference. Now, 30 years after I started there, such lists are in jeopardy and so are some career opportunities for younger versions of myself. Affinity organizations like NABJ, which celebrates its 50th anniversary this year, rely on sponsorships and participation from major corporations, some of which have been rolling back their involvement in diversity programs as conservatives launch assaults on everything DEI.

This is exactly why it's more important than ever to push back against the erasure of these programs. I call on more people of color, especially African Americans, to openly applaud the programs that opened doors for them. I see too many people who instead are loudly proclaiming on social media and in news interviews how they were not a DEI hire. By going on the defensive, they reinforce the false narrative that DEI is something to be ashamed of — when in reality, it's a vehicle for access, not a handout.

While not every person of color has a DEI hire story of their own to tell, they probably can tell ones of their parents or grandparents. Ultimately, these are also their stories and our history.

My door was opened wide enough that I went on to write for the Wall Street Journal for five years and many other publications, including Trump magazine. Yes, the Donald had a magazine and I wrote for it. The issues were displayed on my bookcase for years until I sold that home.

Without Fortune on my résumé, Trump magazine editors might never have commissioned my writing. So, in a twist of irony, Trump has a DEI initiative to thank for the high-quality articles I contributed to his namesake publication.

Share your DEI story to show we are qualified for our roles, and that the system works.

Sheree R. Curry is the co-president of the National Association of Black Journalists Minnesota (NABJ-MN), formerly known as the Twin Cities Black Journalists. She also wears many other hats, including still covering news about corporate America for national media outlets.