Latinas Uprising: Nubia Willman on Bar Success, Brand Building, and Rising into Your Own Power

Nubia Willman didn’t set out to become a digital pioneer for Latinas in law, but that’s exactly what happened when she launched Latinas Uprising in 2014.  At a time when social media was still finding its footing in the professional world, Nubia saw a gap in representation and filled it—creating the first online platform dedicated to supporting and uplifting Latinas in the legal field.  What started as a blog is now a thriving community of over 30,000 followers, where she shares career advice, civic engagement opportunities, personal reflections, and yes—her favorite beauty finds.

For first-gen and early-career attorneys, her platform is like having the best of both worlds: part bada*s mentor who’s been through it all and wants to see you win, part hilarious office bestie who tells it like it is and knows exactly when you need a pep talk.  She’s honest about the hard stuff and always delivers encouragement that’s both practical and spot on.

Nubia’s credibility goes beyond social media.  She’s spent her career serving immigrant and marginalized communities, first as a legal aid attorney, then as Director of the Office of New Americans under Chicago Mayor Lori Lightfoot.  Today, she’s Chief Programs Officer at Latinos Progresando, one of the Midwest’s leading immigrant rights organizations.  Her ability to combine legal expertise, policy insight, and community connection is what makes her a trusted voice both on and offline.

I sat down with Nubia in early June 2025 to talk about her journey, the beginnings of Latinas Uprising, and what continues to drive her forward.  She shared her best advice for passing the bar exam, the necessity of building a professional brand on social with integrity, and the transformative impact of creating spaces where others feel seen, supported, and empowered to grow into their full potential.  

Sara Santoyo: You’ve been a leading voice in the Lawtina community for years and were the first to use Instagram to speak candidly about the realities of being a Latina in law.  I want to get into that soon, but let’s start at the beginning.  What was your law school experience like as a first-gen woman of color?  And if you could go back, what would you tell your younger self?"

Nubia Willman: When I think back to law school… oof.  It was rough.  And honestly, I think it’s rough for everyone, no matter your background.  The whole point of law school is to break you down.

For me, it felt like stumbling through the dark, and every now and then I’d manage to flip the right switch just to make it to the next room.  I grew up poor, so both the culture of law school and the broader culture of power were completely foreign to me.

The legal coursework was hard, but I was able to master that.  What was much harder were the unspoken norms and the overall culture of the legal profession.  I went from college straight to law school; If I could go back, I’d tell myself to take a gap year or two to get my footing and better understand those culture differences.  I think that would have been more helpful and I would have at least entered the field with mentorship and guidance that I just did not have.

SS: Let’s talk about the bar exam since so many students are in the thick of it.  You’ve offered a lot of guidance on this over the years.  Based on everything you’ve seen and heard from students, what are the top three pieces of advice that make the biggest difference for bar takers?

NW: The first thing I always say is to rest.  People think pulling all-nighters and studying non-stop is sustainable.  It’s not.  I tell folks all the time to just take a weekend off.  If you're reading and nothing’s sticking, you need a break.  I was really fortunate that when I was studying, my now-husband needed a full night’s sleep for work, and we didn’t live in a space where I could be up with all the lights on so I had to go to bed at a reasonable hour.  At the time, I didn’t realize how much it helped, but it really did.

Also, recognize that you have to set boundaries, especially with family.  I think this is where self-sabotage can creep in—you don’t study because you’re helping with a family emergency, and then, well… of course you didn’t pass.  There’s always a reason to step in and help.  But you have to set those boundaries and clearly stick to them, even if it rubs people the wrong way.  This is the last big hurdle.  After that, you can be the go-to babysitter forever, but for now, you have to say no.  I remember telling my husband in July, “You’re responsible for your own dinner… I can’t help you here.”  It’s not easy, especially for Latinas who feel responsible for everyone.  You just have to get comfortable telling folks, “I can’t do it.” 

Finally—and I know this is easier said than done, because you can tell people a million times and they’ll still freak out (I had plenty of breakdowns myself that summer)—remember that you’ve done this before.

The bar exam feels terrifying, but when I sat down and saw the first question, I realized, Oh!  This is just like a law school exam.  Obviously time moves faster, but you've trained for this.  It’s totally human to panic, but once you realize you’ve seen this before and you know how to handle it, things start to feel more manageable.

SS: All great advice.  Let’s fast-forward to 2014, when Latinas Uprising was born.  What was going on in your life then?

NW: It was my fifth year of practice, and I was working at a legal aid, primarily handling gender-based violence cases.  I loved the work and thought I’d be there forever.  Thankfully, the field was beginning to recognize the effects of vicarious trauma, and our agency encouraged us to find creative outlets.

So, ever a millennial, I thought I’m going to find an online community!  That felt more comfortable to me than going to my local affinity bar for whatever reason.  I figured I’d find a space where other Latina lawyers were connecting and sharing resources.  I googled and googled but found nothing.  What I did come across was a report by the Hispanic National Bar Association and a book called Everyday Injustice about Latino lawyers.  That’s when I learned Latinas made up less than 2% of the legal profession at that time.

Suddenly, all the confusion I’d carried about why law school felt so brutal started to make sense.  With my sociology background, it clicked that this wasn’t just about me.  A lot of it was structural and systemic. 

I figured if the data showed this struggle was widespread, others were probably feeling the same and the community I was looking for didn’t exist yet.  So I started sharing what had been difficult for me in the hopes of making it easier for someone else.  From there it just grew.

SS: Was there ever a moment, especially early on, when you doubted yourself?

NW: At the beginning, I definitely felt a little sheepish.  Social media was still new, and I worried people would think I was silly for taking pictures and writing a blog.  I wasn’t questioning my voice or perspective because I knew I had something to share.  But I did wonder how I’d be perceived.  It’s funny—I‘ve gone from being this “silly girl” posting on Instagram, to now this “lady who’s too old for TikTok!”  So, side comment: for women, it’s never the right time to do anything, apparently.

SS: Ugh, that’s so true!  We just have to do it anyway.  Have people ever questioned your professionalism because of the platform?

NW: Early on, some people were confused about what I was doing.  Especially older attorneys who weren’t on social media and were dismissing it as maybe a young person’s game.  But now, after being in the profession this long, I see that mindset almost as an abdication.  Social media is one of the most powerful tools we have to connect and communicate with people.  You can’t just ignore it.  

Over time, people began to see the value in what I was doing, especially the way I was able to reach and connect with others on a much larger scale.

SS: Now that social media is more widely embraced, a lot of professionals, both young and not-so-young, are wanting to build a platform.  What advice would you give to someone looking to establish a professional brand presence on social? 

NW: When I started, it was hard to know what was appropriate to share about work.  I’m naturally risk-averse, and my supervisors were even more so, which honestly helped me stay grounded.  Now, people are posting “day in the life” videos and a lot more behind-the-scenes content.  I think the real question for some young attorneys is: Do you want to be an attorney, or a content creator?  When you’re just starting out, you have to focus on your craft.  I was nearly five years into practice before I launched Latinas Uprising, and it began as a blog.  So my advice is to just be careful.  You worked really hard for your license.  Protect it.  Always think about how something you post might come across if a client or employer saw it. 

For me, work has always come first.  I took an oath, and I take that responsibility seriously.  

That said, if you’re a more established professional looking to promote yourself or your firm, you absolutely should be on social media.  You don’t need to be dancing, but you do need to understand how to use and leverage the tools.

When it comes to civic engagement, the need is especially clear.  Latinos are among the highest users of social media and are disproportionately targeted by misinformation and disinformation. That’s why it’s so important for trusted voices that also have subject matter expertise to be part of the conversation.  

SS: Was there ever a moment you felt like giving up on Latinas Uprising?  

NW: Honestly, no!  There’s always been a sign to keep going, like a random comment on an old YouTube video saying, “This helped me so much!”  Those little moments remind me it’s really making a difference.  And now, as I move into new stages of my career, I try to share the first time I’m on stages, or in different spaces so that folks know they can get there too.

SS: I once heard a professor define one’s calling as a relational experience where we respond to a deeper sense of purpose by using our gifts in service to others, not just ourselves.  It seems like Latinas Uprising is a living expression of that for you.  

NW: Yes, that’s so accurate.

SS: I’ll share a quick story.  When we ran into each other at an event at UCLA, you met my daughter who was ten at the time.  You gave her a Latinas Uprising pin, and she treasured it.  That small gesture gave her such a sense of pride and connection to her identity and to something bigger than herself.  It was special to witness.  

So who was one of those people for you?  Who lit that first spark of inspiration?

NW: Oh, I love that story.

Honestly, growing up was difficult because I lived in a really turbulent household.  But I always had this sense that I was going to be an attorney.  I can’t tell you why or what the catalyst was for me, it was just there. 

One of my biggest mentors was former Mayor Lori Lightfoot, who was also my former boss.  She was the first supervisor who didn’t just see what I had done, but what I could become.  She saw my potential and she believed in me.  For her to identify abilities in me that I was second guessing and say, “Nubia can do it; I want her advice,” or “I want her in the room,” or sending me out as a surrogate even when people didn’t want me there—I can never thank her enough for that.   And you know, she’s a black woman in America so to have seen her leadership up close and for her to have faith in me was incredible.  

SS: She saw your capability, not just your capacities in the moment, and she created space for you to rise into it.

NW: Yes!  Exactly.  

SS: What do you hope your legacy will be?

NW: With Latinas Uprising, I hope it’s remembered as a space that helped people move from self-doubt to self-belief.  A space that reminded them they already had what they needed to succeed—that the tools were inside them all along.

I don’t need anyone to say, “I went to law school because of her,” though that has happened and now I’ve seen a couple generations of incredible attorneys who were pre-law when we first connected.

What means the most is when someone says, “She helped me tap into what was already inside of me.” 

That’s the legacy I hope to leave.  I want folks to know they don’t need anyone’s permission to unlock their own potential, but it does help when someone shows you that it’s possible for you, too.  That’s what I hope Latinas Uprising has done.

SS: Just like what Mayor Lightfoot did for you. 

NW: Exactly.  And that’s what I want to keep doing for others.

SS: Thank you for everything you do for the community, for your advocacy, and showing up in all the spaces that matter.  

NW: Thank you so much!  I really appreciate it.  I’m glad we were able to make this conversation happen.  

Through Latinas Uprising and her body of work, Nubia turns visibility into action and advocacy into lasting impact.  In a world where Latinas and women of color are still too often overlooked, even a shared makeup tip becomes an act of care, connection, and visibility.  In fact, every truth Nubia shares is a rallying call for us to rise together, rise louder, and rise stronger.  To step fully into our potential and claim our rightful place in the legal profession.  Her work has sparked a quiet revolution that’s rooted in belonging, courage, and the belief that we rise highest when we rise together.

Sara Santoyo is on a mission to diversify the field of law, one woman of color at a time. As a first-gen attorney who passed the hardest bar exam in the nation and who overcame the barriers she faced as a WOC in law to land her dream attorney role, she developed the skills and confidence that comes from knowing that she can turn any adversity into an advantage. Sara now devotes her professional life to coaching young WOC lawyers to do the same and more.