When I graduated from law school and started as an associate at a labor and employment firm in Washington, D.C., it felt like I was on the path. You know the one: late nights in the office, long hours researching case law, and the gradual climb toward partnership. It was the trajectory many of my classmates had been encouraged to pursue, and, on paper, it made sense for me.

But something was missing.

As I engaged in the practice of law, I found myself seeking a legal job that allowed me to engage in a different form of advocacy: the opportunity to shape the rules, rather than just work within them. The firm taught me rigor, precision, and the art of lawyering in the service of clients. Still, I missed the policy conversations I had had during law school, the opportunity to think creatively about systemic reform, and the ability to connect legal arguments to broader questions of equity.

Leaving the stability of law firm life was terrifying. Yet it was the leap I needed to take. That leap, as it turns out, set me on a path I never could have mapped out in advance. It was an unconventional trajectory, but it was also the most authentic one for me. That’s the message I want to leave for those who feel hemmed in by traditional expectations of what a law degree should mean. The truth is this: a JD is not a one-way ticket. It is a passport to a vast and varied career.

The Leap: From Law Firm to Nonprofit

The first leap was the hardest. I still remember the unease I felt when I told colleagues I was leaving the firm. I fielded questions like: Why would you leave? Aren’t you worried about the pay cut? What if you can’t come back? All of those were fair questions, but they were framed around a fear of losing status, fear of financial instability, fear of stepping off the well-trodden path. What they didn’t account for was the possibility of growth.

In my first “unconventional” role as a Policy Director at a nonprofit, I stepped into a position where my legal skills were central to shaping policy, building coalitions, and training organizations. Instead of applying precedent, I was helping to build it. I went from reviewing contracts to drafting testimony for congressional hearings, from summarizing case law to co-authoring amicus briefs.

The work was demanding, and the transition was not without risk. However, I gained the ability to connect the dots between legal doctrine, policy reform, and lived experience. This work stretched my JD in unexpected ways. Legal research skills became tools for policy design. The ability to write persuasively became essential for building partnerships. Even my law school experience of running a student organization translated directly into managing staff, consultants, and interns.

Looking back, I realized how often law students are told that their skills are “transferable”—but rarely are we shown just how far they can transfer. Drafting a legal brief and drafting a nonprofit’s annual strategic plan are not as different as they might seem. Both require synthesis of information and a clear articulation of purpose. I loved the work I was engaged in. It felt fulfilling, creative, and impactful. After a few years, I was promoted to serve as the Executive Director of the organization, which was a role I never would have thought was in the cards for me. It was through my legal background that I had the opportunity to serve large populations through policy and advocacy.

The Door to Academia

Perhaps the most surprising twist in my career came when I was invited to teach as an adjunct professor at George Mason University’s Schar School of Policy and Government. At first, I assumed it would be a side passion and a way to give back to students what my professors had given me. My first time standing in front of a classroom filled with eager pre-law undergraduates, I realized I had stumbled into something much more.

Teaching reconnected me to the curiosity that first drew me to law school: the big questions about justice, rights, and the role of institutions. It gave me space to think critically about not just what the law is, but what it could be. Perhaps most importantly, it reminded me that the next generation of lawyers and policymakers needs to see role models who don’t fit one particular mold. When I applied for and was hired as a full-time Assistant Professor of Legal Studies, it felt like the culmination of all those unconventional steps. Each leap, each pivot, and each risk had prepared me for this role.

The Larger Point: The Vast Usefulness of a Law Degree

My story is just one example, but it illustrates a broader truth: a law degree is one of the most versatile credentials you can hold.

Yes, it can take you to the partner track. But it can also take you into nonprofits, startups, think tanks, government agencies, academia, or even entrepreneurship.

The skills you develop in law school, from critical thinking, persuasive writing, the ability to see both sides of an argument, and the discipline of conducting complex research, are not narrowly “legal.” They are universal and allow you to effectively navigate problems and craft solutions.

Too often, law students and young attorneys feel trapped by a narrow definition of success. The firm pipeline is well-lit and well-paved. The alternative paths are dimmer, riskier, and require a leap of faith. However, the profession desperately needs lawyers who take those leaps. We need lawyers who see the connections between law and policy, law and business, law and education. We need lawyers who bring their training to new contexts, expanding not only what lawyers do but also what law means.

Lessons for the Unconventional Path

For those considering (or already walking) an unconventional legal path, here are a few lessons I’ve learned along the way:

1. Success is not linear.

Your legal career will seldom unfold in a perfectly straight line, and that is more feature than flaw. Each pivot, whether voluntary or unexpected, builds skills that prepare you for opportunities you cannot yet imagine. Sometimes the most meaningful doors open not because you stayed on the “expected” path, but because you took a turn when others might not have. Embracing a non-linear journey allows you to see success as cumulative rather than sequential. I encourage you to read this article by Caroline Castrillon. From creating alignment between work, personal values, and purpose, and teaching resilience through adaptation, Castrillon’s article details why non-linear career paths are the future of work.

2. Transfer your skills with confidence.

Lawyers often underestimate how powerfully their training equips them for roles outside the courtroom. The ability to parse precedent translates naturally into analyzing policy, and the persuasive writing skills honed in legal writing can become powerful tools in reports, grant proposals, or advocacy campaigns. Even oral argument skills—thinking quickly, anticipating counterarguments, responding thoughtfully—can translate directly into boardroom presentations or fundraising pitches. Your legal education is not narrow; it’s one of the most broadly applicable toolkits you can carry. If you are wondering where to start, read this report from Massachusetts Law School on 600+ things you can do with a law degree (other than practice law).

3. Build your network.

Every transition in my career was made possible because of relationships I had formed, particularly mentors who encouraged me, colleagues who opened doors, and peers who collaborated on shared projects. Networking is not just about collecting business cards or adding connections on LinkedIn. It is about curiosity and cultivating authentic relationships with people who recognize your potential and are invested in your growth. Some of my closest mentors and professional supporters are people I first reached out to simply because I was genuinely interested in their stories, how they built their careers, what choices shaped their path, and what lessons they had learned along the way. Reaching out before you “need” something not only feels more authentic but also creates a stronger foundation for trust and mutual respect. When you approach people with curiosity and sincerity, you often find that they are eager to share advice and open doors you never expected. When you surround yourself with people who inspire you, opportunities tend to follow.

4. Embrace the fear.

Career change will always feel uncomfortable, but that discomfort is a sign of growth. Leaving the firm for a nonprofit was daunting; stepping into executive leadership was intimidating; teaching undergraduates for the first time was nerve-wracking. Yet each leap into the unknown brought new skills, new confidence, and new opportunities.

At the same time, I recognize that not everyone can make these kinds of pivots without careful consideration of their own circumstances. Career leaps often involve financial trade-offs, uncertainty about stability, and ripple effects for family and loved ones. Being able to take a risk can itself be a form of privilege, and it is important to acknowledge that reality rather than gloss over it. But fear and practicality are not opposites. You can both honor your responsibilities and still allow yourself to take calculated risks. For me, embracing fear has meant moving forward even when the outcome was uncertain, while also being honest about what I could manage and when.

5. Redefine success.

Too often in the legal profession, success is measured by a single yardstick. I posit that a one-dimensional vision of achievement leaves out countless lawyers who find fulfillment, impact, and leadership in different arenas. Success can mean shaping policy, teaching students, building organizations, or creating balance that allows for both professional excellence and personal well-being. The challenge and the opportunity are to define success on your own terms, not someone else’s.

Why This Matters for the Profession

Encouraging unconventional legal paths isn’t just about individual fulfillment; it is about the health of the profession itself. If we continue to funnel the majority of law graduates into firms, we narrow the scope of what law can do. When lawyers step into nonprofits, academia, government, or business, they bring legal rigor to spaces that need it. They expand the reach of legal thinking into areas like tech policy, workplace equity, climate change, and public health.

If you are a law student wondering whether you are cut out for firm life, know this: there are countless ways to use your degree. If you’re an early-career attorney feeling restless, remember that leaving the “path” does not mean leaving the profession. And if you are a seasoned lawyer reflecting on your career, consider mentoring those who are daring to chart new courses. Law is not a monolith. It is a toolkit. And like any toolkit, its true value lies in how creatively and courageously we use it.

As for me, I’m grateful I leaped. I’m grateful I left the security of a firm to chase the uncertain promise of policy and advocacy. I’m grateful I helped build organizations that mattered, taught students who inspire me, and carved out a career that reflects not only my legal training but also my passions. My hope is that others will feel empowered to do the same.

Shea Holman Killian is an Assistant Professor of Legal Studies at George Mason University, where she teaches various law and government courses and guides students through the Jurisprudence Learning Community (JPLC). She also serves as a member of the Schar School of Policy and Government’s Gender and Policy Center advisory board, contributing her expertise to advancing gender equity in policy and governance. Outside of George Mason, Shea serves as Counsel at the Purple Method, providing strategic legal guidance, overseeing policy development, and collaborating with stakeholders to create safer and more equitable workplaces.