Dear Friends,

 

Feels like yesterday that a 26-year-old version of me was sobbing over a fax machine, wondering how we could possibly keep faith with the clients who were relying on us. 

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The Tennessee Justice Center was me and Gordon in an unfinished attic, surrounded by boxes of files transferred to TJC in the wake of cuts to federal funding for Legal Aid. TJC had no budget. I had a $17,000 annual stipend and a cracked laptop that showed only half a screen at a time. We paid bills out of pocket. We had no idea how to run a business, let alone raise enough money to keep the lights on another month—much less thirty years. 

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And yet, despite how illogical it felt, it also felt like the only choice: to continue representing our clients through what we naively hoped would be only a temporary betrayal of our nation’s commitment to Equal Justice Under Law. Thirty years later, as I write this surrounded by ice in every direction, Winter Storm Fern feels like an almost too-perfect metaphor for 2025 and for the last three decades of TJC’s work. Over and over again, we have felt powerless, hemmed in by forces far beyond our control. Yet the power of community has sustained us. Storms sometimes devastate the very lives of the poor. More often, their suffering is driven by leaders who pursue political gain at the expense of human dignity; by bureaucracies so careless or incompetent that harm becomes routine; by corporations whose greed eclipses their duty to the people they are paid to serve. 

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These storms bring fear, loss, pain, and despair. Despair is always at the door. 

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But we never let it in. 

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Because thirty years have shown us again and again, that destruction calls forth extraordinary love. Thousands of people—clients, staff, partners, donors, volunteers— step forward and light the way. They remind us of Mother Teresa’s simple truth: we belong to each other. That is what Winter Storm Fern revealed so starkly. We all need each other. And the good news is we have each other. 

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Our clients show us the miracles that inspire us the most. In 2025, clients summoned extraordinary courage to speak out about a broken system that was leaving hundreds of thousands of Tennessee children, seniors, and families hungry. They told their stories despite personal attacks and real risk. Because of that bravery, a federal court ordered the state to begin fixing the food assistance system that is meant to protect more than 700,000 vulnerable Tennesseans from hunger and malnutrition. 

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System change is slow. There is still much work ahead. But it is humbling to witness the strength it takes for clients simply to survive each day and then to see them go further, speaking up for justice in courtrooms, in the media, in the legislature, and in Congress. 

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You cannot hear their stories and forget that we belong to each other. You cannot witness their courage without being awestruck by their radical hospitality—showing up not just for their families, but for their neighbors and their state. Some people may need a once-in-a-generation ice storm to learn that lesson. Our clients remind us every day. 

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We can, and we must, take care of one another. And when we do, the results are lasting and transformative. 

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As you read about the work TJC and our community accomplished in 2025, you will see a year marked by chaos, loss, and disruption unlike any we have faced before. You will also see unprecedented innovation, generosity, and solidarity. 

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Thank you for everything you do to ensure this justice work has real power. Here’s to thirty years of standing together and building systems strong enough to weather any storm.