On Black Leadership: A Conversation With Kim Taylor-Thompson On Carving Her Own Path

January 15, 2025
Kim Taylor-Thompson is a Black women in Leadership
By Candice C. Jones
This column is for Black women in leadership because very little in the public dialogue reflects that experience. We must find and cultivate relationships with people whose methods, manner, and success we want to emulate. Kim Taylor-Thompson is one of those people for me. 
She went from Riverton Houses in Harlem — the child of the great jazz and Civil Rights legend Billy Taylor — to Yale Law School. She was the first tenure-tracked Black woman at Stanford. She ran the D.C. Public Defender Service, taught leadership strategy to Fortune 500 companies and government agencies, and moderates the occasional Socratic dialogue. 
I recently had the privilege to reflect on Black women’s leadership with Kim. She spoke about finding her path, the culture shock of stepping into white institutions, and the importance of restorative spaces. We also happened to connect shortly after the election, which made the discussion of Black women’s leadership all the more timely.
Candace C. Jones: We are in a moment in history where the leadership of Black women is part of our national discourse. What is that bringing up for you?
Kim Taylor-Thompson: If we learned anything from the election, it is that this country essentially dismisses the voices of Black women. There are things to be learned from that. We have to stop ceding our voice to others, be clear about who we are, and not drift toward the center. There’s a real need to disrupt and transform. The more we avoid that, the more likely it is our voices will be dismissed, the issues we care about will be lost and people will suffer. 
You are a pioneer in justice reform. Your family background is more music royalty than law. What led you to law?
I had no musical talent! What I did have was an example from my dad. He used his music in ways that were rebellious and empowering. He considered jazz a uniquely Black American gift to the world. He wanted people to hear it, see it, and embrace it for free. His goal was to be in and of the Black community — to help it channel its pain, its pride, its passion — and to understand its history through music.
I had to find another way to do that. Growing up, I’d watched folks who looked like me get in trouble. They would turn to somebody who didn’t look like them or understand their life experience. I thought they deserved to have someone representing them who had a wealth of education and experience, coupled with an intimate understanding of what it’s like to be in their communities.
You went from Harlem to Yale, Yale to D.C.,and then teaching law at Stanford. Were there culture shocks along the way? 
Culture shocks were everywhere. While I was in Harlem, my parents took me out of a school that was predominantly Black and put me into a school downtown where I was the third Black student to attend. I was in third grade and felt like a specimen. It was alienating. I learned to come home to the comfort and warmth of my parents to help me navigate that. They taught me at an early age that you need to remember to be yourself, even in those settings.
I hear a theme of finding spaces where you could be your authentic self.
You don’t make it through living in a country where you’re marginalized without restoring yourself by one—being reminded that you are not crazy and two—learning that there are people who have your back no matter what.
Whatever hits you take in the world — your friends, family, and community will remind you that you have this strength, beauty, power, and voice that cannot be taken away from you. You cannot function without a core group of people reminding you who you are in those moments when you forget.
How would you describe your leadership “style”?
I think my leadership style is inclusive. I’ve been in situations where folks who looked like me were not invited to the table, or if they were, they were silenced. I want to get different perspectives, because that allows you to check your judgment, come up with better alternatives, and to see around corners. Other people’s perspectives extend your vision.
Who inspired you as a leader? 
I wasn’t exposed to a lot of women leaders or Black women leaders early on. Leadership books didn’t exist, so I went to Malcom X, George Jackson, Claude McKay, Dee Brown, W.E.B. DuBois, folks that helped me understand how to have a voice in a culture looking to silence it. They helped me realize I had a place, and I had perspective that was important.
I’ve been lucky to have you as a mentor. Who mentored you?  
Charles Ogletree was this amazing strategic thinker — always rooted in Black communities, in how we use our voice and how we understand our history. Most people would describe him as smart, talented, and really nice, but if you did something harmful to communities he cared about, he was also a devastating opponent. I watched that and said, “OK, it doesn’t have to be loud, but it can be decisive, and this is a line you do not cross.”
Randolph Stone pushed me into the leadership role of [D.C.] public defender. I didn’t want it, but he helped me see how my experience with individual clients could inform policy in ways people weren’t allowing it to be informed.
Jerry Lopez recruited me to Stanford. There were so few people of color on the faculty. I watched him in faculty meetings take on the angry-person-of-color role. He said, “Yeah, I’m doing that for you. You can’t hold that role, as much as you want to. You’re not tenured. It will hurt you, so let me take the blows.” Jerry taught me that as leaders, we’re sometimes the ones who have to take the arrows so others can develop and get themselves established.
There’s a lot of debate about what you have to tolerate as a leader. 
At Stanford, I was the first woman of color on the tenure track, and the students of color wanted me to talk about why it was important for the institution to be desegregated.
I got pulled aside by a white woman who said she didn’t like the way I criticized Stanford in public. She said, “That’s not the way we do things.” I said, “I’m not going to change who I am just because I’m here.” She thought she could school me. You have to check that.
What advice would you give to an emerging leader who is working to find her footing?
Surround yourself with people who can be a sounding board and help you hone your thinking. Make sure you have people working with you who have your back, who give you candid feedback on what you’re doing and what’s going on around you. Remember who you are. There’s something unique about your voice and your perspective, and something critical about your way of moving issues forward.
What’s giving you hope right now?
Me. Also, family and other young leaders who are saying, “I’m not just going to sit here and let this plan unfold that hurts my communities.” There are enough people who are angry, particularly Black women, that we might see some changes. So that gives me hope.
RELATED CONTENT: 5 Reasons Why We Need To Discuss Black Leadership
Candice C. Jones joined the Public Welfare Foundation in Washington, D.C., as its president and CEO in 2017. Previously, she served as Senior Advisor at Chicago CRED, an organization that focuses on gun violence in Chicago. 
Candice received her J.D. from New York University School of Law. To learn more aboutCandice’s background and work, find her on LinkedIn.








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