Leadership often emerges from the most unexpected and challenging situations. It is in these moments of adversity—when resources are scarce, voices go unheard, and systems falter—that the true courage to lead is tested.

One of my first experiences was supporting the Women’s Business Forum in Baghdad, Iraq, in August 2003. By now, you might say, “Mishkat, what’s with you and August? Every August, you have something going on!” You wouldn’t be far from the truth, but it’s not only August. It’s a year-round thing.

Back to August 2003, I was invited as a guest speaker to help Iraqi businesswomen establish and sustain their businesses. The convention center conference room was hosting more than 300 women. Most women were wearing the traditional headscarf, long-sleeved shirts, and maxi skirts. I was wearing wide-leg black pants and a short-sleeved business jacket without a headscarf. I was the third speaker. The emotions were high in the room; the Hussein Regime had fallen in April of the same year, marked by the dissolution of the Iraqi Army and the establishment of the Iraqi Governing Council. Yet, amid this fragile landscape, steps were being taken to build peace and promote growth—one of them being the opportunity to empower women economically through the Women’s Business Forum. Straightforward? Not really.

When the first speaker attempted to present her PowerPoint about grants available to women, she was booed off the podium. The audience was shouting slogans against everything: the coalition forces, the governing council, and whatever the speaker was trying to say. Nevertheless, she managed to finish. The second speaker cut her presentation short and referred to handouts. And then, I was the third speaker.

I stood on the podium and kept quiet for a minute or two, allowing the audience to settle down. Then, I introduced myself by saying, “I am a lecturer, but I don’t know how to lecture, so I am here to listen to you. Do you have any questions?” The audience was quiet for a moment, and my heart was pounding, even though I was smiling slightly, trying to reassure those women and build a rapport with them. A woman raised her hand, saying her husband had been arrested—it was a lawless time, and she was scared, with no mind for business. Another woman said her older son had been taken, and a third said she was a widow and afraid of living alone. Another woman followed suit. None of their concerns were related to the topic of business opportunities, but these women wanted to be heard, and they had a lot on their minds.

Once the questions ended—or at least this was what I felt—I raised my hand, even though I was on the podium, and said, “Can I help you by providing some information? You can take it or leave it, but at least you’ll know about it.” I saw many women nodding in agreement. I tailored my comments to fit their concerns, demonstrated empathy with their issues, and acknowledged that I didn’t have all the answers but had some. I also shared my experience as a divorced mother raising a child on her own.

“It’s hard and daunting what we women go through, but if you have resources or a business, I hope you keep it and use the income to hire an attorney to represent your husband or son, or hire a guard to provide protection. In this economy, you will be better off with resources than without.” Then, I slowly guided them to my topic: the legal background they needed to establish a business. I was invited to speak in my capacity as a former attorney and a current faculty member of the Law School at Baghdad University. Not only did I finish my keynote without being booed, but the women followed me to my car, asking more questions. It didn’t matter that I looked different or wasn’t wearing the headscarf. What mattered was the connection and the rapport we built. The organizers gave me a note of appreciation, which meant a lot to me.

Some of them answered right away, and others replied within two to three days. When the first faculty member came to my office, they saw a round table with two chairs away from my desk. I didn’t take notes unless they allowed me to. I made sure to ask before I recapped the session. I wanted to build trust and usher in a new beginning. Some of them wanted extended leave from work, which I granted, and others wanted to initiate their own educational projects, which I approved and supported with resources. By the end of the day, the department succeeded as a team.

These lessons guided me when I was tasked with establishing the first veterans’ court in Ukraine. Unlike my earlier experience, resistance wasn’t the primary challenge; instead, it was navigating the unknown. I wasn’t a judge, nor had I ever worked in a veterans’ court, but I had honed skills in facilitating discussions and collaborating with subject-matter experts. So, I reached out to U.S. judges and experts with the mindset that even though I was the Managing Academic Director at the National Judicial College, I wasn’t a judge, and my role was to organize the effort and build rapport with the team internally before we engaged the Ukrainian judges.

I shared my experience living in a war zone without any supporting programs and how my son and I sought help at our expense after settling in the U.S. I took the time to educate myself about the role of veterans’ courts and responded to the team’s request to learn more about Ukraine’s judicial system. Working with judiciary giants like Judge Russell, Judge McCune, and Judge Engel, in addition to connecting with my colleague Glen Stewart, was the highlight of my tenure at the College. Not only was the workshop with Ukrainian judges successful, but one team member also volunteered to go to Ukraine to help set up their court. Shortly after, Court Review published my article on the role of the judge in establishing a veterans’ court, which I co-authored with Judge Williams-Byers and Ms. Amber Menchio.

What I’ve learned is that leadership transcends borders and industries. Whether in Baghdad or Baltimore, the core principles remain:

• Listen with humility: Leadership begins with understanding the needs and concerns of those you serve.
• Act with purpose: Real change requires action—not just intentions or rhetoric.
• Foster resilience: Adversity can be a catalyst for innovation and growth when approached with the courage to adapt.

I invite you to reflect: How have you turned adversity into opportunity in your leadership journey? What steps can we take to ensure that no community is left behind?

Let’s continue this conversation and inspire one another to lead with resilience, empathy, and purpose.