Damon L. Williams, Jr.
“We got uninvited, because Blacks weren’t allowed in the country club,” says Williams.
Williams says he wasn’t hurt when he read the country club’s by-laws and regulations—rather, he was confused.
“I didn’t understand why everybody didn’t have access. And I was determined to have access,” says Williams.
Williams’s parents had met during their time at Southern and A&M College, a historically Black college and university (HBCU) in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. They shared their convictions with their two sons, including the importance of education and social service. Williams was raised Catholic and attended private institutions—he was often the only Black student in his class, or one of the few.
That experience with the country club helped open Williams’s eyes. He began to see exclusion everywhere, not just for himself, but for others who had been marginalized. He became what he calls “a student for everybody.”
“I made sure everyone had access, especially my Black classmates and friends,” says Williams.
Tapping into access became a deliberate decision. Williams understood the potentials of social capital, and he methodically and patiently expanded access for himself and others by getting to know everyone he could. He met local leaders and philanthropists, expanding his world through intentional community building. He was so successful, in fact, that by the time he graduated from high school, Williams had achieved access to the same country club that barred him due to his race. Williams didn’t celebrate his achievement alone—he brought all his Black friends with him as they broke the barrier at the club.
“We got to the country club. We disrupted that,” says Williams, with a hearty laugh. “I don’t know if we had a good time, but at least we were in the house.”
Helping others
It’s this attribute of himself, his desire to build access for those neglected by the larger story, that eventually led him to his current role as associate vice president and chief of staff in the Office for Community Relations at the University of Kentucky (UK).
But all along the way, Williams has worked at both public and private institutions—HBCUs and Predominantly White Institutions—that have become top producers of minoritized students.
It took him awhile to connect the dots from his passion to higher education. His first ambition after college was to make money, and he entered the corporate world and earned his MBA from Fontbonne University. Williams found great success in business, but at the same time, felt the effects of imposter syndrome. He often found himself as the first and the only person in boardrooms. He was still intrinsically motivated to extend the ladder of success to those with less access, but he felt lonely in that goal.
“I wanted to be socially just, to do the best for everyone, but also make money,” he recalls. “Everyone didn’t feel that way.”
It’s why, in his late twenties, he chose to volunteer at Georgia State University (GSU), speaking to young college students about his successes. Those lectures became a fundamental first step into his career in higher education, and in 2008, he became special assistant to the director of the TRIO programs at GSU, a series of federally funded programs that assist low-income, first-generation, or otherwise minoritized students attend and graduate college. Williams took a pay cut leaving the corporate world, but he knew it was worth it.
From there, Williams’s career took off. In 2009, he returned to his undergraduate alma mater, Xavier University in New Orleans, an HBCU and the only Black Catholic institution in the world. Williams became the director of the Career Advancement Center, where he would spend the next five years inviting first generation, low-income students, women, LGBTQ+, and other under-represented undergraduates into pursuing their graduate degrees. His dedication to the work would eventually increase student placement rate for Xavier by 50%, building a pipeline to both Ivy League institutions and regional or local graduate schools.
Williams admits that Xavier holds a special place in his heart. Xavier, he says, is a place that “expects excellence,” but also knows students must be supported towards that goal. In his sophomore year of college, Williams had begun to struggle academically and financially, but the leadership and faculty at Xavier gave him the opportunity to continue his education.
Dr. Dereck J. Rovaris, Sr., now retired, is a fellow Xavier alum who spent 21 years working at Xavier in the office of Graduate Placement. He got to know Williams while he was an undergraduate at the school.
“Xavier was everything for us—a tiny college by college standards, but it’s done amazing work to get students to see their potential and actualize it,” says Rovaris.
Rovaris says that Xavier was the critical “catalyst” for both him and Williams “in the vineyard of getting particularly under-represented undergraduates to pursue graduate degrees.”
“Damon has always been able to get students excited about the potential of graduate study,” said Rovaris, who notes that Williams’s ability to captivate and motivate students makes him feel like “a proud papa.”
Dr. Vernon Dunn, director of The Grainger Foundation Frontiers of Engineering at the National Academy of Engineers, first met Williams at one of the summer programs Williams ran at Xavier. Dunn chose to attend Xavier as an undergraduate with hopes of becoming a medical doctor. But the more time he spent studying the field, the less convinced he was that it was the right choice for him. Williams, said Dunn, was able to provide a listening ear, opportunities, and connections.
“He lined me up with great connectors that guided me to and through graduate school. He was the reason I decided to get a Ph.D. That wasn’t supposed to happen,” says Dunn. “It was no where on my radar, and it turned out to be the best fit for me.”
Dunn says he speaks with Williams daily, seeking advice on managing people, navigating spaces, and how to best lead his program of young engineers. Williams sets a high bar, Dunn says, asking those who work for and with him to pay attention to the little things, to get the work done on or before deadline. But, Dunn adds, Williams is also always ready to loosen the tie and get to know the people he works with.
“I appreciate having Damon, a Black man, being direct with me and not sugar coating things. I needed somebody like him to say, ‘No, you need to do this,’ or, ‘That’s a waste of time, apply to these schools, talk to this person.’ I needed that direct, strategic approach to my growth to make me be successful,” says Dunn. “I’m very thankful of where I am today, because of him.”
Forging strategic partnerships
Williams’s ability to connect HBCU students to graduate programs caught the attention of Emory University, where he would be recruited in 2014 as the director of Diversity, Community and Recruitment. In his three years there, he created the Office of Diversity, Inclusion, and Community in Emory’s Graduate School and the Emory Diversifying Graduate Education (EDGE) program. At Emory, he created over 100 internal and external initiatives, recruiting plans that targeted under-represented and international students. Applications from under-represented students increased by 10% during his first academic year.
As his reputation grew, Williams was recruited by Northwestern University, where he served as assistant dean of diversity and inclusion between 2017 and 2021, and then until 2022 as the Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion lead of Northwestern’s Public Health Program. His efforts helped to lead to the graduation of the most diverse class in the history of Northwestern.
“We doubled diversity attraction, admittance, retention, and graduation during the time I was there,” he says. “We did some great work.”
Williams is quick to say ‘we,’ eager to share the credit with those whose dedication and service helped him and his office achieve their ambitious goals. Northwestern, he says, is a place with a great diversity of programs and ideas, thought, and discipline.
“Because of the dean leads, the vice provost, the team members working with me, we were able to do great things with faculty and faculty fellows. I needed them to speak the language [of diversity,]” says Williams. “I was a conductor, an architect there, and people bought into the mission.”
Through the efforts of his department, Williams says he was able to recruit and retain an entire class of graduating students to pursue their graduate degrees at Northwestern. The institution now has a Hispanic Serving Institution (HSIs) initiative and partners with HSIs. Northwestern also now has an HBCU pipeline program with HBCUs Spelman College, Howard University, and Xavier. Williams’s time there refined his philosophy on diversity.
“When you want to do diversity, you have to have intentionality. Look around. Who don’t you see? You don’t see women? Go get women, go to where they are. Don’t see a population of veterans? Go get them!” he says. “That’s my philosophy. Move it forward—disrupt it. If you’re not ready to disrupt it, you’re not ready to do it.”
That philosophy, and his dedication to achieving his goals, inspired Dr. Katrice Albert, a veteran higher education administrator, to ask him to consider joining her where she serves as vice president of community relations at UK.
The request, she says, seemed to take Williams by surprise.
“He said, ‘Kentucky?’” she says with a laugh.
Albert, another Xavier alum, first got to know Williams when he would bring potential graduate students from Xavier to Louisiana State University, where she previously served as vice president for Equity, Diversity, and Community Outreach. They reconnected at a Xavier homecoming, where Williams sought out her advice on his career trajectory. Neither of them could predict back then that they would end up working together in the Bluegrass State.
“Our discipline is hard. And it’s always been hard. It’s not easy to do inclusive excellence work in higher education. And what strikes me about [Damon] is not only the ability to do very hard work and make it look easy to others, but to have this humor that brings people closer to him, this aura, this good spirit,” says Albert. “[Damon] has a moral context that says, ‘Yes, this is hard, but we’re colleagues and we can do this hard work together. And have a good time doing it.’”
Albert calls his ability to connect across multiple sectors an “essential skill” and a “leadership competency,” one that draws people in and engages them in difficult work.
“He’s very committed to K-12, in making sure those folks in K-12 understand they can have a trajectory all the way through graduate education,” says Albert. “He’s not afraid to start young and know you have to pour into those people for a long time. it’s not quick.”
It’s the deliberate pouring into others, the nurturing of others and their goals, that can often slow down the personal objectives of higher education leaders who have an “an ethos of care,” Albert says. It’s one of the reasons that Williams has taken as long as he has to officially pursue his Ed.D., which he is expects to defend in 2026 at New York University.
“When you are so people-centered, your whole world is revolving around seeing other people reach their greatness, so you spend limited amounts of time working towards your own radical professional goals and your own radical self-care,” says Albert. “This man is so focused on helping others reach heights they might not have even imagined for themselves, he sacrifices time, energy, research, effort, and social capital for others.”
It’s one of the reasons Albert has pushed Williams to put himself first and to complete his terminal degree.
“I have visions of grandeur, seeing him rise to a university president, or the CEO of a major foundation or think tank committed to educational outcomes and closing achievement gaps,” says Albert.
For Williams, his goals are more modest, at the moment. He says he is interested in vice presidential roles, or other positions that allow him to continue increasing and creating access and opportunities. He is inspired by the guideposts set for him by civil rights leaders of the past, artists and writers like James Baldwin, whose face adorns an enormous poster in his nicely decorated office.
Williams recalls one of his early trips through Kentucky, when he first contemplated taking a role there. It was 2020, shortly after the murder of26-year-old Breonna Taylor.
Williams seemed taken by the spirit of Ida B. Wells, the pioneering journalist and activist, who would travel to dangerous counties after a lynching in pursuit of a story. He drove to the city of Louisville where Taylor had lived and was killed at the hands of police officers who forced entry into her home. On his drive back home, an advertisement on Pandora radio advised him that the Speed Art Museum was adjacent to the University of Louisville campus, and, as an avid art lover, Williams decided to stop by. As he toured through the paintings and exhibits on display, he turned a corner and was surprised to see the face of Taylor, painted by artist Amy Sherald, staring back at him from the end of the hall. Williams says he immediately burst into tears.
There, as he sat on a stool in front of Taylor, clothed in Tiffany blue with a defiant hand on her hip, Williams wrote a missive for himself that he follows to this day. “I promised to continue the work,” says Williams. “Breonna is anchoring me to continue to do the work.”
