My name is Tina, and for years I thought I knew what success meant. I thought it was being comfortable and my ability to do things with ease, but I was very wrong.
I was born to a respected engineer and a business woman, I grew up in comfort. I had quality education from kindergarten to my first degree and a family that believed in my future — my life was a checklist of privilege.
When I graduated I joined one of Nigeria’s most prestigious firms, everyone congratulated me. I was living the dream. But how true was this dream without purpose?
Yet every time I walked past a crowded magistrate’s court or heard stories of people languishing in detention without legal help, a quiet question nagged me: Is this all there is? How can I make a change?
That question became louder one rainy afternoon. I was at court filing documents for a big commercial case when I saw a frightened teenage girl at the clerk’s desk. She had been arrested for hawking without a permit. She had no lawyer, no money for bail, and no one to speak for her. Watching her, I felt something shift inside me.
That night I couldn’t sleep. I opened my jotter and wrote at the top of the page: “Privilege to Purpose.” Underneath, I listed the skills, contacts, and resources I had and how I could use them for people like that girl.
A few months later, I took a leap of faith and founded Tinaris Legal Clinic. It started as a small pro bono desk with just me and two volunteers. We focused on indigent inmates, women, who had been left behind by the justice system. We negotiated bail, challenged unlawful detentions, and ran “Know Your Rights” outreaches.
It wasn’t easy. I gave up many evenings and weekends, lost weight from stress, and endured people calling me “too idealistic.” But with every released inmate or detainee from unlawful detention, every widow who got her property back, every young man who finally had legal representation, I felt something I had never felt in the corporate world — deep, sustaining purpose.
Today, Tinaris Legal Clinic has grown into a network of volunteer lawyers and advocates across the state. We’re still small, but our impact runs deep. When I speak at conferences or meet young lawyers, I tell them:
“Privilege is not the destination — it’s the platform. Every skill, connection, and advantage you possess is a tool. The question is: what are you building with it?”
Looking back, I see the girl I once was ambitious, eager, and searching for meaning. I smile knowing I’ve finally aligned my life and my work. My journey from privilege to purpose isn’t finished, but it’s the most meaningful case I’ll ever take on.
TINARIS WORLD 