In what appears to be a stunning dismantling of the U.S. Department of Education’s civil rights enforcement mechanisms, recent developments reveal a system in freefall—gutted, redirected, and silenced under the Trump administration.

Take California, where a mother sought justice after classmates racially abused her Black daughter—calling her slurs and mimicking whip sounds during a slavery lesson. The U.S. Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights (OCR) had launched an investigation. But that probe, and many others, abruptly stopped when the department suddenly shuttered its California regional office in March and fired all of its employees. “I thought we were finally getting somewhere,” the mother said. “Now we’re back at square one.”

This is not an isolated case. In South Dakota, the OCR reneged on a previously approved agreement meant to protect Native American students from systemic discrimination—reversing course by claiming the effort would now unfairly disadvantage white students.

The first 100 days of Trump’s latest term have seen the OCR, once a vital watchdog enforcing anti-discrimination laws, reduced to a skeletal shadow of its former self. Education Secretary Linda McMahon is reportedly “reorienting” the agency—away from protecting marginalized communities and toward culture war crusades.

Priorities Rewritten, Protections Reversed

Now, the OCR has pivoted toward issues aligned with the administration’s agenda—most notably launching investigations against schools that allow transgender girls to participate in girls' sports. A transgender fencer from Wagner College competed in a women’s tournament at the University of Maryland. Within days, the OCR launched a special investigation against both institutions, threatening federal funding. No formal complaint from the public was filed—just pressure from conservative media.

Internal data obtained by ProPublica reveals that in March and April, over 90% of civil rights complaints were dismissed without investigation—far above historical norms. Previously, only about 70% were tossed, often due to technicalities. Meanwhile, investigations that once took months or years are now either fast-tracked or abandoned altogether.

Attorneys inside the OCR say they’ve been overwhelmed and shut out. One reported inheriting 380 cases after their office was closed. “The job is now impossible,” they said. “Families are pleading with us, but we’re drowning.”

A “Shadow OCR” With a Political Agenda

Where once a transparent, impartial process determined whether a civil rights complaint warranted investigation, the current OCR operates behind a veil. A new “Title IX Special Investigations Team,” spearheaded by OCR head Craig Trainor and working with the Department of Justice, bypasses career attorneys entirely. These investigations target schools based on ideology—particularly those that support LGBTQ+ students or diversity programs.

Even more concerning is the creation of a new online “End DEI” portal, designed to collect grievances about diversity initiatives. Unlike standard complaints, submissions here are not reviewed by trained OCR legal experts. Where they go remains a mystery—even to OCR employees.

Trainor has personally signed off on letters that label transgender girls as “biological males,” using politicized language attorneys say was never part of the agency’s lexicon. “They’re bypassing protocol and rewriting the law in press releases,” said a former OCR official.

Civil Rights Abandoned

The shift has left families like Genevieve Goldstone’s in limbo. Her son, a disabled student in California, was reportedly locked inside a “reset room” at school. She filed a federal complaint. But after the California OCR office was closed, communication stopped. “Nothing’s been done to protect the kids,” she said.

At last count, more than 12,000 discrimination investigations were pending nationwide. The department’s public database hasn’t been updated since Trump retook office.

Now, conservative groups like America First Legal—founded by Trump loyalist Stephen Miller—can directly email Trainor and see cases rapidly launched, sidestepping normal channels. “It’s misusing our office,” said a current OCR attorney. “We’re being weaponized.”

Final Hope Flickering

To many students and families, the OCR was the last hope for justice in an education system rife with inequality. That hope is flickering out.

“They’re calling and emailing and saying, ‘I thought you all were going to help me,’” one attorney said. “And all we can say is—we’re trying. But it’s not enough.”