In college, I had a mentor that I admired with all of my heart. JB was more than a professor or advisor, he became my family away from home. In his office, I would sit for hours talking about my classes, my hopes, my dreams and my fears. I felt safe with his support and encouragement to be adventurous, to be bold, and to make mistakes as I entered adulthood. JB never ran out of words of wisdom, but somehow he always circled back to his favorite question, “What do you want your legacy to be?” 

When I began my career path in nonprofits, I was sure that my legacy was set in stone. No matter what organization I worked for, or what position I held, I tried to create a legacy through my actions. From direct advocacy to program management, I was on the front lines of trauma work. In my mind, the long work hours and self-sacrifice were just the inevitable consequences of establishing my legacy. Who had time to eat, or sleep, or be with my family, when there was a world that needed to be saved. The thing is, after all of those years of building my legacy, supporting victims and doing amazing work, my soul was weary. I started to view trauma as not the enemy, but the symptom of larger problems. I revered trauma as a work colleague. It showed up daily in my work life wearing hues of black and purple on bruises of survivors or the sunken eyes of emotionally drained coworkers filled with stress and anxiety. Trauma was inescapable and all of my life’s work felt in vain. I was not building a legacy that addressed the true problems of our society, but rather a legacy built on soothing the unending symptoms of trauma. I felt complicit in life’s game of fixing the wounded, just to throw them back out to the wolves.

It was during 2020, I had time to do some deep self-reflection due to my pandemic boredom, and I sought to change my legacy. I left my job, left the state, left the life I had built, and moved to New England to start a new chapter . I had the honor and privilege of working closely with JT of JTC. Jess and I spent hours upon hours discussing survivors, advocacy, and how we could build a legacy of prevention instead of reaction. These talks turned into ideas, the ideas turned into opportunity, and here we are building a business together. 

At JTC, we are grounded by the mission of the organization. Preventing gender-based violence isn’t solely focused on domestic or sexual violence. We are tackling a long held ideology that some people are inherently better than others. Racism, sexism, ableism, any-ism. We enjoy the challenge of working with individuals and organizations to get to the root of the trauma and create practical solutions that work for them.

To JB and all my mentors along the way, thank you for pushing me outside of my comfort zone. Thank you for asking me the really hard questions and providing me with a safe space to make mistakes. I feel that I know what my legacy will be now. It won't be built on the foundation of action, but rather preventing trauma through education and connection.