Before Thursday's Supreme Court decision affirming the University of Texas at Austin's limited use of race in admissions decisions, I had steeled myself for bad news: The fact that the nation's highest court decided to hear the case for a second time, that Justice Elena Kegan had recused herself from the case; and the likely swing vote would be Justice Anthony Kennedy, who has been skeptical of race-conscious admissions, did not bode well.

I've argued from the start that Fisher v. UT-Austin was a curious case. Abigail Fisher, who brought the suit against the university, experienced what many students face when they apply to college - not getting in to her college of first choice. I've witnessed this a number of times. Three years later, these students are brimming with pride for their school: Their friends, the faculty and shared experiences shape their impressions of college. They might occasionally wonder, "What if?" But more often, they're focused on graduation, graduate school or a job. As a graduate of Louisiana State University, Ms. Fisher hadn't suffered harm; rather, it was a common experience where one's plans, in the words of Robert Burns, "gang aft agley," or, "go often askew."

Second, I have personally witnessed the attacks on diversity in higher education for some time. I matriculated to UT-Austin in 1990, the recipient of an affirmative action scholarship. I was instantly drawn into discussions about my worth - did I in fact belong at the university, being asked my SAT scores, the whole gamut. But I found mentors among the students, staff and faculty who noted that many students of all races also suffered from "imposter syndrome." For students of color, however, our skin was an invitation to question if we were in fact "qualified." (White students, regardless of their standing, are rarely asked such questions. The default assumption is that an unqualified student of color "took their spot," rather than a slightly more qualified white student - which is precisely what the data showed happened in Fisher's case.) The questioning and scrutiny actually served as motivation to achieve to my best ability, and those mentors pushed me further than I imagined I would ever go.

From teaching at E.O. Smith Educational Center in the Houston Independent School District in the 1990s, to earning a doctorate at Harvard University, to presently serving as an associate professor and assistant vice president at UT-Austin, I hope to serve as an example of the possibilities that education can provide to young people. Before the first Fisher case, I saw students of color and their allies conduct teach-ins to share experiences of racial discrimination. Even those from affluent backgrounds could point to experiences of being racially profiled and being asked to speak as a representative of their race - what social scientists term "microaggressions."

In some instances, they shared experiences of racial violence, ranging from name-calling to assault. As UT-Austin President Gregory Fenves stated Thursday in his message to the UT community, "Race continues to matter in American life. It affects individuals and communities." Simply wishing that this is not the case is not enough to eradicate barriers that limit the potential of underrepresented students of color.

The Supreme Court's decision affirms UT-Austin's commitment to educate the citizens of Texas and the nation. Equity and inclusion are pillars of excellence, and we can only meet our public mission via a racially and ethnically diverse student community. There is a compendium of social science research that illustrates the educational benefits of diversity for all students. Indeed, interaction and friendships are critical in dismantling stereotypes and discriminatory beliefs: This is impossible if campuses fail to reflect the spectrum of experiences in the fabric of American life.

While demographic changes have been reflected in the composition of the student body at UT - the first-year class has been predominantly students of color since 2010 - these gains have not been uniform across all communities. In the 1986 to 2010 interval, the Latino population has more than doubled (11.1 percent to 23.1 percent) and the Asian American population has almost tripled (6.3 percent to 17.3 percent.) But the African-American population has only increased incrementally (4.2 percent to 5.1 percent). (I wish to make it clear that there are still significant challenges for Latino and Asian American students, such as completion rates, retention and campus climate concerns.)

For years, students of color have articulated the need for upholding UT's efforts to bring diversity to the university community; theirs has been an invisible, stressful labor. This was exemplified when the late Justice Antonin Scalia stated in December that perhaps black students at UT should be in "lower-track schools." It was an affront to the hard-working students on the Dean's List, in honors programs and double majors who go on to great graduate schools and jobs. Black students, and their allies of every background "clapped back" via social media, demonstrating that they in fact had excelled at UT-Austin and other predominantly white institutions across the nation.

Thursday's news only reinforces the significant work we need to do to create an inclusive and welcoming environment for underrepresented students. But it is gratifying to know that the research and testimony of people like the family of Heman Sweatt, the Houston civil servant who took UT-Austin to the Supreme Court in 1950 after being denied admission because he was African-American, made an impact on the court.

Inclusivity and excellence needs to permeate all aspects of society. The Fisher decision highlights the central role higher education plays in these efforts.

Reddick is an associate professor in Educational Administration at the University of Texas at Austin, where he also serves as assistant vice president of Research and Policy in the Division of Diversity and Community Engagement, and also as assistant director of the Plan II Honors Program.