The federal courts have long treated Monell v. Department of Social Services as both a watershed and a fortress. In theory, Monell opened the door to municipal liability under 42 U.S.C. § 1983, where a plaintiff can demonstrate that a constitutional violation resulted from an official policy, practice, or custom. In practice, however, the doctrine has been narrowed almost to the point of futility. Courts routinely dismiss Monell claims at the pleading stage, requiring plaintiffs to thread an impossible needle: they must demonstrate not only misconduct by individual employees, but also a policy-level decision or deliberate indifference traceable to policymakers.
That is why the Second Circuit’s decision last week in Chislett v. N.Y.C. Dep’t of Educ., is so significant. For once, the appellate court refused to ratify the all-too-common pattern of district courts short-circuiting municipal liability claims before plaintiffs ever reach discovery. Instead, the panel reinstated a 2019 lawsuit brought by former Department of Education (DOE) administrator Leslie Chislett, who alleged that the City of New York knowingly permitted racial harassment against white employees during anti-bias training sessions and workplace interactions.
The court’s message was clear: when municipal leaders tolerate or condone discriminatory conduct in official programs, that tolerance is itself actionable under Monell.
The Facts: “White Toxicity” and the DOE’s Training Regime
In 2017, Leslie Chislett was tapped to lead AP for All, a high-profile initiative under the Department of Education’s Office of Equity and Access (“OEA”). By every account, she excelled in the role, supervising fifteen employees and expanding Advanced Placement coursework opportunities in line with the de Blasio administration’s public agenda. Yet within her office, a different narrative was cultivated.
Early conflicts arose when a subordinate, Akua Adefope, accused Chislett of “microaggressions” — ignoring, dismissing, interrupting, or otherwise “belittling” staff of color. Adefope lodged a complaint with the DOE’s Office of Equal Opportunity and Diversity Management (“OEO”), which investigated but concluded the conduct did not amount to discrimination. Still, OEO characterized some of her statements as “inappropriate,” a finding that opened the door to further targeting. From that point forward, accusations against Chislett multiplied. Subordinates accused her of “holding employees of color back.” When she resisted or attempted to discipline staff, she was labeled “white and fragile.”
Chislett brought her concerns to OEA leadership. Instead of support, she was “scolded” for raising them, a fact the Second Circuit later highlighted as evidence that DOE leadership was not merely negligent but complicit in fostering hostility.
In 2018, the dynamic intensified under Chancellor Richard Carranza, who announced an unapologetic “equity agenda.” Carranza made his expectations explicit: “If you draw a paycheck from the DOE, you will either get on board with my equity platform or leave.” The push was not symbolic. Carranza created nine Executive Superintendent positions and filled each with a person of color. At the same time, white administrators across the system alleged they were demoted or passed over in favor of less qualified candidates.
Training sessions became ground zero for the rhetoric. In one DOE-sponsored “implicit bias” session, a senior leader declared: “There is white toxicity in the air, and we all breathe it in.” Chislett herself was singled out, accused in front of colleagues of exhibiting “traits of white supremacy.” The message was clear: her race and authority were disqualifying. In routine workplace exchanges, she was told things like, “How dare you approach me out of your white privilege!” simply for questioning tardiness or enforcing deadlines.
Chislett repeatedly elevated her complaints, including to Deputy Chancellor LaShawn Robinson, but they were ignored or dismissed. The daily hostility grew unbearable. Eventually, she was forced onto medical leave and resigned from a career she had spent decades building.
The Second Circuit found these facts, viewed collectively, sufficient for a reasonable jury to conclude that the DOE not only tolerated but condoned racial harassment of white employees. What the district court had minimized as “isolated comments” instead represented an entrenched, top-down pattern of workplace hostility rooted in the very training and policies that DOE leaders designed, implemented, and defended.
Monell in Theory vs. Practice
Since 1978, Monell v. Department of Social Services has stood for the principle that municipalities are not vicariously liable under § 1983 for every misdeed of their employees. Instead, plaintiffs must establish that a constitutional violation was caused by:
A formally adopted policy or ordinance;
Actions of a final policymaker;
A widespread practice or custom so persistent that it effectively has the force of law; or
A failure to train or supervise amounting to deliberate indifference.
On paper, this framework allows plaintiffs to hold governments accountable when misconduct reflects institutional choices rather than isolated mistakes. In reality, district courts have so often raised the bar that Monell claims rarely survive summary judgment. Judges frequently characterize discriminatory acts as “stray remarks,” demand multiple similar incidents before allowing discovery, or insist that plaintiffs name a final policymaker at the pleading stage—requirements far beyond what Rule 8 demands.
The effect is predictable: many meritorious claims die on the vine, insulating municipalities from accountability.
What the Second Circuit Did Differently
In Chislett v. City of New York, the Second Circuit refused to indulge this reflexive dismissal. Rather than treating the allegations as speculative, the court tethered its reasoning to specific record evidence:
DOE officials leading equity trainings told staff there was “white toxicity in the air, and we all breathe it in.”
Colleagues accused Chislett of exhibiting “traits of white supremacy,” labeled her “white and fragile,” and snapped, “How dare you approach me out of your white privilege!” when she attempted to discipline subordinates.
A supervisor publicly scolded her during a training session, reinforcing the notion that her management style was itself a manifestation of “white toxicity.”
When Chislett escalated her complaints to then–Deputy Chancellor LaShawn Robinson, she was dismissed rather than protected.
The panel also noted Chancellor Richard Carranza’s explicit directive: staff must “get on board with his equity platform or leave.” That statement, coupled with the creation of nine new “Executive Superintendent” positions—all filled by individuals of color during Carranza’s tenure—was treated not as coincidence, but as probative evidence of an institutional policy.
Against that backdrop, the court concluded that “a rational jury could find that the administration condoned the racial harassment.” That sentence is deceptively simple yet doctrinally significant. It recognizes what plaintiffs’ lawyers have long argued: when senior leadership not only ignores but normalizes discriminatory conduct, the municipality’s “custom” is established.
Equally important, the Second Circuit rejected the district court’s attempt to dismiss the conduct as “mere insults.” Persistent stereotyping, ridicule, and hostility—especially when embedded in mandatory trainings and ratified by high-level officials—are not trivialities. Under both Title VII and § 1983, they constitute actionable harassment.
Why This Matters Beyond DOE
The Chislett decision is not confined to the Department of Education. It underscores a broader truth: municipal liability does not require a written policy manual instructing employees to discriminate. Customs are proved by what leaders tolerate.
Here, DOE’s leadership didn’t just fail to intervene—they actively reinforced the conduct. Equity trainings repeated tropes about “white toxicity.” Supervisors dismissed complaints and labeled legitimate management decisions as “racist” or “fragile.” The Chancellor himself warned employees to embrace his equity agenda or leave. Taken together, these are not isolated incidents; they are hallmarks of an institutional culture.
That recognition matters far beyond the school system.
In policing: Courts often dismiss Monell claims despite repeated evidence of excessive force or unconstitutional stops, reasoning that misconduct is “aberrational.” But if senior commanders ignore body-cam footage or bury civilian complaints, that tolerance is itself policy.
In corrections: Sexual abuse by guards is frequently brushed off as individual misconduct. Yet when wardens ignore complaints or retaliate against whistleblowers, the pattern becomes custom.
In housing: Discriminatory voucher refusals are treated as landlord choices. But where city agencies know of the practice and look away, liability should attach.
The Second Circuit’s willingness to credit the facts in Chislett is a corrective against decades of judicial narrowing. It restores the basic premise: condonation is action.
District Courts as Gatekeepers
The other lesson is procedural. Too often, district courts act as gatekeepers determined to keep plaintiffs out. They dismiss Monell claims under Rule 12(b)(6) or Rule 56 not because the allegations lack substance, but because judges demand a smoking-gun memo or a list of identical prior incidents—standards that go far beyond what Monell or Rule 8 require.
In Chislett, the district court fell into that trap. It waved away repeated slurs at DOE trainings as “stray remarks,” minimized Chislett’s humiliation as “subjective,” and treated Carranza’s ultimatum as benign. The Second Circuit refused to play along. It reminded the lower courts that the question is not whether a judge personally believes harassment occurred, but whether a jury could reasonably find liability.
That is a critical distinction. If harassment codified in mandatory trainings and tolerated by high-ranking officials is dismissed as too thin, then Monell is not a doctrine at all—it is a dead letter.
By reinstating Chislett, the panel effectively rebuked the district court’s gatekeeping impulse. It preserved the jury’s role as fact-finder and signaled that municipal defendants cannot count on early dismissal simply because their policies are expressed through culture rather than ordinance.
The Broader Civil Rights Landscape
The Chislett case also forces a reckoning with the politics of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI). On one hand, defenders will argue that the misconduct reflects poor execution, not defective ideals. On the other, critics will claim it proves DEI is a cover for reverse discrimination. Legally, however, that debate is beside the point. The Second Circuit was clear: when government tolerates or institutionalizes race-based harassment—whether against white, Black, Latino, or Asian employees—it exposes itself to liability under § 1983.
The record in Chislett shows why. This was not a one-off comment. For years, DOE employees were subjected to official trainings where “white toxicity” was described as environmental poison. Supervisors branded Chislett as “fragile” or accused her of “white privilege” when she attempted to perform basic managerial duties. Complaints were elevated to senior officials, including a Deputy Chancellor, and ignored. That is not ideological sparring—it is state-sponsored humiliation.
The irony is striking. The de Blasio administration, which prided itself on progressive racial equity, may now generate one of the most significant precedents for white plaintiffs alleging racial harassment. That is the dual edge of civil-rights law: its protections run to all races. Title VII, § 1981, and § 1983 are colorblind in their reach, even if enforcement on the ground often is not.
The broader lesson is this: municipal liability is not a partisan weapon. It attaches wherever government creates or condones a culture that marginalizes people based on protected characteristics. That applies equally to conservative administrations that look the other way on police abuse and to liberal administrations that rationalize bias under the banner of equity.
Takeaways
For plaintiffs’ lawyers, Chislett is a roadmap. Do not stop at cataloging slurs or hostile acts. Document how leadership responds. Were complaints ignored? Were trainings weaponized to reinforce stereotypes? Were high-ranking officials complicit or dismissive? Those are the building blocks of a Monell claim.
For municipalities, the ruling is a warning. It is not enough to issue lofty policy statements or adopt the language of equity. When your policies create spaces where certain employees are demeaned based on race—and when leaders refuse to intervene—you are no longer just a bystander. You are the defendant.
For the courts, the message is humility. Too often, district judges elevate their own skepticism over the jury’s role. Chislett reminds us that the jury, not the judge, decides whether a hostile environment was condoned. To dismiss such claims at the threshold is to usurp that role and undermine civil-rights enforcement.
Most importantly, for civil-rights enforcement as a whole, Chislett reaffirms that Monell is not an empty shell. Municipalities cannot shield themselves behind “good intentions” or bureaucratic inaction. Condonation is policy. Silence is policy. And when those choices inflict constitutional harm, the courthouse door must remain open.
Conclusion: Monell Reaffirmed
The Chislett ruling is not a revolution. It does not rewrite Monell, nor does it hand plaintiffs an automatic win. What it does is something more important: it breathes life into a doctrine that too many courts have treated as a dead letter. By holding that a rational jury could find DOE leadership condoned racial harassment, the Second Circuit reminded us of the doctrine’s core purpose — accountability for institutional choices, not just individual misconduct.
For years, district courts have used Monell as a trapdoor, dismissing meritorious claims at the pleading stage or on summary judgment. They have demanded smoking-gun memos or repeated “identical” incidents before allowing discovery, ignoring the obvious: customs are proved by tolerance, not paperwork. Chislett resists that narrowing trend. It affirms that when leadership hears complaints, watches hostility unfold in official trainings, and still does nothing, the city itself owns the consequences.
That principle matters beyond the Department of Education. It matters in policing, corrections, housing, and every other public sector where rights are fragile and culture is policy. The Second Circuit has said clearly: condonation is action. Tolerance is a custom. And customs, when discriminatory, give rise to municipal liability.
If this precedent takes hold, it may finally restore balance to Monell. Municipalities will remain shielded from vicarious liability for rogue acts, but they will not be immunized when their leaders normalize harassment or discrimination. That is the equilibrium the Supreme Court envisioned in 1978 — and it is the equilibrium civil-rights enforcement demands today.
The takeaway is simple but powerful: Monell is not a shield for municipal indifference. It is a tool for accountability. Chislett reminds us that equal protection is not optional, and no government can claim progressive intent or administrative convenience as an excuse for tolerating harassment.
If courts follow this lead, Monell’s promise — accountability for institutional wrongs — may finally match its practice.