This interview is based on a conversation with Christina Jones, 40, the CEO of a nonprofit and management consulting firm based in Washington, DC. It has been edited for length and clarity.
My son, Xavier, less than a year old at the time, was fast asleep in his crib while I worked on a policy document as midnight approached.
I was relatively new to my position at a Minnesota-based nonprofit that helps survivors of gender-based violence, and I wanted to demonstrate my value to the organization.
It was a shared document with other team members, so many could see that the timestamps indicated that I was revising it at 11 p.m.
One of my colleagues, a mom of teenagers, tried to coach me in a soft, gentle way. “You don’t need to be in here so late,” she said. “You need to get some rest.”
I was ambitious and constantly pushed myself
Instead of listening to her, I manipulated the system. I started setting my late-night emails to schedule-send so they arrived at 9 a.m. the next day.
Triple-checking that the Ts were crossed and the Is were dotted was second nature to me. Women, especially Black women, are so often trying to prove ourselves because we want to show we belong.
For me, it goes back to my parents and community saying that we have to do twice as much to get half of what everyone else has.
It felt especially true for me in my 20s and early to mid-30s. I was ambitious and forging my legal career, including several years in the office of the attorney general for the District of Columbia.
The long hours and stress levels were OK for me because I was married without kids. Still, I continued in the same vein after I had Xavier, now 5, because I wanted to create so many things in my life and demonstrate my worthiness.
Then my perspective changed. It took a vehicle collision involving my car and a tractor-trailer to make me reassess the situation.
My husband, Jason, two girlfriends, and I were driving to a restaurant on January 18, 2025, to celebrate my 39th birthday when it happened.
Thankfully, we were traveling at a low speed and emerged relatively unscathed with a few scratches. It was traumatic, but it might have been so much worse.
Prayer helped me reach a decision
The experience scared me into thinking that I could have been taken out. The fact that it was my birthday made it particularly significant — a reminder that I only have one body and time is not infinite.
I’d already been waffling about what to do about my current job for several months. Although it was interesting and challenging, I wondered whether I should start my own consultancy.
Fear had put me off. I earned six figures, my company paid 75% of my health insurance, and provided a 3% match to my retirement. The role was fully remote and offered other perks.
I prayed a lot about it, asking God what I should do. It became very clear that I needed to listen, not sit on my dreams, and take this bet on myself.
I needed buy-in from my husband, Jason, because it could have put our household at risk. Still, he and my mom were very supportive. “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” they said. “You’re an attorney. You can go get another job if it doesn’t work out.”
I’m a firm believer in not burning bridges and leaving a position as graciously as you came in. I resigned in mid-June 2025 and served two months’ notice.
My firm, Command Joy Co., which helps people in the nonprofit field turn passion into sustainable impact, was launched last August.
I’m still learning and growing, but the company is thriving. There is great satisfaction in guiding creatives through the business side of things.
My family forces me to unplug — in a good way
One of the most challenging aspects of entrepreneurship can be a feeling of isolation. As a result, I go to lunch intentionally three or four times a month with other business owners and spitball ideas.
As for me-time, I’ve learned what recharges me, whether it’s being near water or relaxing with friends.
My top priority is always my family. Having Jason and Xavier forces me to unplug in a good way.
I like to think of my life right now as a slow unfold. Just because you were something in one season doesn’t mean you have to stay like that in the seasons that follow.
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