Theresa Wilson, Esq.

I attribute my strength and success to two anchors in my life: faith and family. My journey has not been without profound challenges, but even in my darkest moments, I have always believed that hope exists, we just may not see it yet.

One of the most defining experiences of my life came during my second marriage, when I was trying to have a child. I became pregnant with my daughter, but at about six months, I had to give birth knowing that she would not survive outside of my womb. She was still alive within me, but I knew that when she was born, I would also be saying goodbye. No mother is ever prepared for that reality.

I named her Kaylee Hope.

At the time, I did not fully understand why “Hope” felt so important. I only knew that it did. It was an act of faith, an unconscious belief that somehow, someday, I would find meaning in that loss.

What I came to understand later changed everything. Just three months before becoming pregnant, while trying to conceive, I was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm located on my carotid artery. It was at a critical stage, one that could have taken my life without warning. Had I not been in the process of trying to have a child, my doctors would not have ordered the imaging that ultimately led to that diagnosis.

In a very real way, my daughter saved my life.

It took time, grief often does, but eventually I found the light within that darkness. And I realized that even when we cannot yet see the purpose, hope is still present. I named her Kaylee Hope because, deep down, I trusted that her life, however brief, would carry meaning.

And it did.

The best career advice I ever received was this: stay the course—especially when the road doesn’t feel fair.

Early on, I was told that if you are committed to meaningful work, you will inevitably face obstacles that have nothing to do with your talent, your preparation, or your integrity. Some barriers will feel personal. Some will feel systemic. And many will feel unjust. But the advice was simple and powerful—don’t let those moments define your direction.

Instead, become an overcomer.

That means showing up with persistence when it would be easier to step back. It means continuing to do the work, even when recognition is delayed or opportunities don’t unfold the way you expected. It means trusting that your drive, your discipline, and your purpose will carry you forward, even when the path is unclear.

What I’ve learned over time is that careers are rarely linear. You don’t always end up where you thought you would be. But if you stay grounded in your values and committed to the work, you will find yourself exactly where you belong.

And often, that place is more true to your purpose and creates more change in the world than the one you originally imagined.

The advice I would give to young women entering this field is this: protect your spark.

Each of us has something within us that drives us, something that existed before the world told us who we should be. When you find that thing, nurture it, honor it, and refuse to let it be diminished.

So often, as women, we are conditioned to prove ourselves, to chase validation, or to fit into spaces that were not designed with us in mind. In that process, it is easy to lose sight of what originally called us to this work. But your power is not in becoming what others expect, it is in staying connected to who you already are.

I once came across a question that stayed with me: Who were you before the world told you who to be? For me, that answer is my commitment to ensuring that children are safe, supported, and well. That is my spark. It grounds me, it guides my work, and it sustains me, especially in challenging moments.

For someone else, that spark might look different. I see it in my daughter, who is nuero-divergent. It lives in her love for singing and performing. But even that, she uses as a vehicle for purpose, for expression, for social justice. Your spark doesn’t limit you, it expands you.

So whatever your spark is, protect it. Let it guide your decisions. Let it fuel your persistence. Because when you build a career rooted in that truth, you are not just succeeding, you are leading with purpose.

The legal and educational systems are at a critical inflection point when it comes to advancing racial equity and inclusion efforts. The challenges are significant, persistent systemic disparities, increasing resistance to DEI initiatives, and the ongoing need to confront both implicit and structural bias within institutions that shape opportunity and outcomes. The statistics show the impact of these tensions with an increase in the lack of diversity and the employment concerns for people of color. At the same time, this moment presents a profound opportunity. There is space to reimagine how we train professionals, embed equity into policy and practice, and build systems that are more transparent, accountable, and responsive to the communities they serve. We have the ability to develop transformative programs, elevate new leadership, and create frameworks that move beyond intention to measurable impact. Ultimately, the challenge and the opportunity are intertwined: to not only respond to inequities, but to fundamentally redesign systems in ways that produce lasting, equitable outcomes.

The values that guide both my personal and professional life are equity, justice, empathy, and service. They are not abstract ideals for me, They are principles I actively live out in how I lead, how I make decisions, and how I show up for others. I am deeply committed to advancing equity and justice by addressing systemic barriers and ensuring that all people, particularly those who have been historically marginalized, are seen, heard, and supported. Empathy grounds that work. It allows me to connect across differences, to listen with intention, and to lead with both compassion and accountability. Service is the thread that ties it all together. Whether in my professional roles or within my community, I see my work as being in service to others, especially those who are most vulnerable. And alongside all of this, I remain rooted in my commitment to family and community, which not only sustain me, but also remind me why this work matters.