Lauren Wu

I attribute my success, above all, to mentorship and relationships that have endured over time.

At every stage of my career, from internships to executive leadership, I have been shaped by mentors who showed me what leadership could look like in practice. Sometimes they were formal managers, sometimes peers, sometimes people I quietly aspired to become. I’ve been intentional about staying connected to those relationships over the years, and I still seek guidance from mentors and mentees today. Mentorship, when done well, is bi-directional and lifelong. These relationships have carried me not just through professional decisions, but through life. Mentors are cheerleaders, sounding boards, and steady presences during hard seasons. They are also the people you celebrate wins with, ask for templates from, and eventually stand beside as peers.

One mentor in particular captures this for me. I met him decades ago when I was an intern with the Alternate Public Defender’s Office in San Diego. As a Superior Court Judge, he later swore me into the California Bar, and over the years, our relationship evolved into a deep, mutual friendship. We have supported each other through marriages, health crises, career changes, parenthood, and growth. That relationship — and others like it — is the quiet throughline of my success.

I would also be remiss not to name my mother. She is the foundation beneath everything I’ve built. She showed me what it means to be a strong woman through sacrifice, steadiness, and unwavering belief. She supported my education, encouraged my dream of becoming a professional ballerina (which I was for a few years), and made it possible for me to pursue my ambition without apology. She remains one of my closest friends and greatest sources of strength.

Ultimately, my success is not something I achieved alone. It is the result of community, mentorship, love, and people who believed in me long before I fully believed in myself.

The best career advice I’ve ever received was this: pay attention to how your body and values respond to an opportunity, not just how impressive it looks on paper — and don’t be afraid to set boundaries.

Early in my career, I was taught to pursue roles that signaled success: the right titles, the right institutions, the right trajectory. A mentor helped me see that alignment matters more than optics, and that noticing discomfort early is a form of wisdom, not weakness.

Just as important, they reminded me that it’s okay, and necessary, to set boundaries, both at work and at home. That advice reshaped how I lead and how I live. Boundaries aren’t barriers to success; they preserve you. They protect your energy, clarify your values, and make it easier for others to understand how to work with and respect you. They also prevent burnout before it becomes inevitable. Especially after experiencing a significant health disruption, this guidance became non-negotiable.

Careers are long, nonlinear, and deeply human. The most meaningful success comes from building one that you can sustain, where your ambition, health, and integrity can coexist over time.

If I were giving advice to young women entering the legal field, I would say: pursue law school for the right reasons and focus on finding an area of law that truly excites you. One that ignites you from within. For me, that's privacy and compliance! The law is demanding, and curiosity and purpose are what sustain you over the long term, not prestige alone.

Seek out mentors at every stage of your career and invest in maintaining those relationships. Learn from people whose values you respect, not just those with impressive titles. As you progress, make it a priority to mentor others and help guide the next generation of legal professionals. Mentorship is not a phase of your career; it’s a responsibility that grows with you. Plus, mentorship turns into friendship, which is quite a beautiful thing.

I would also encourage young women to build careers that are sustainable, not just successful. Set boundaries early. Pay attention to how environments make you feel, how leadership shows up under pressure, and whether you are expected to perform at the cost of your health or humanity. You do not need to become harder, louder, or less yourself to succeed in this field.

Finally, remember that careers are long and nonlinear. It’s okay to change paths, step back, or redefine success as your life evolves. The goal is not just to make it into the profession; it’s to stay whole while you’re there.

One of the biggest opportunities and challenges I see right now is the incorporation of AI into the legal profession.

When used responsibly, AI can be a powerful tool for efficiency, effectiveness, and accessibility. For lawyers with disabilities, chronic pain, or invisible health conditions, AI can be the difference between being able to show up fully or being pushed out of the profession altogether. Used well, it can reduce cognitive load, support drafting and analysis, and allow lawyers to focus their energy on what truly matters.

At the same time, AI understandably creates fear. Many worry it threatens jobs, professional identity, or the future size of the legal workforce; concerns that extend well beyond law into many professions. Those fears shouldn’t be dismissed. But I believe the real opportunity lies in how we design, govern, and train AI. When built with appropriate data, logic, guardrails, and ethical oversight, AI doesn’t replace lawyers; it strengthens them. AI can handle baseline work such as drafting, templating, and stress-testing logic, freeing lawyers to focus on the parts of the job that drew many of us to law in the first place: critical analysis, judgment, negotiation, and problem-solving. That is where human expertise remains essential, and where AI can be a true amplifier rather than a threat.

Alongside this, stress and burnout remain persistent challenges in our field. And more broadly, we are navigating a moment where long-standing assumptions about civil rights, ethics, and the rule of law are being tested. That reality places a responsibility on both current and future lawyers to remain grounded in their values, lead with integrity, and align their actions with the profession's core purpose. This moment requires not just technical adaptation, but moral clarity; using new tools wisely, protecting access and inclusion, and ensuring that progress does not come at the cost of our humanity.

Integrity, empathy, responsibility, family, and service are the values that anchor both my work and my personal life.

Integrity means aligning my actions with my values, even when it’s inconvenient or costly. It shows up in how I practice law, how I advise leaders, and how I make decisions under pressure. I care deeply about doing work I can stand behind — work that protects people, honors trust, and reflects ethical judgment rather than expediency.

Empathy shapes how I lead, teach, and serve. It allows me to recognize unseen burdens, understand complexity, and design systems (legal, organizational, or technological) that work for real people, not just ideal ones.

Family keeps me grounded and reminds me why sustainability matters. It influences how I think about boundaries, time, and the kind of legacy I want to leave, both professionally and personally.

Finally, service reflects my belief that expertise carries responsibility. Whether through mentorship, board service, teaching, or community engagement, I believe in using my skills to widen access, strengthen institutions, and support others.

Together, these values guide how I work, lead, and live — with intention, care, and a commitment to leaving people and systems better than I found them.