About

I believe the people who've had to think hardest about who they are — who've carried the weight of code-switching, of translating themselves for institutions not built for them, of performing legibility while doing the actual work — tend to be the most capable diagnosticians in any room. Not in spite of that experience. Because of it.

I spent two decades in technology leadership, most recently as CTO of a national civil rights law firm. I came out and transitioned inside the C-suite. I received a neurodivergence diagnosis late enough that I'd already built a career learning to compensate for traits I didn't yet have names for. These are facts, not disclosures. They are the data behind the diagnostic capability — the reason I can see what's actually happening in a leadership situation, an organizational system, or a person at a threshold, faster than most frameworks are designed to surface.

What that produces in the work is a particular kind of precision: the ability to hold operational rigour and human complexity in the same frame without collapsing either. To name what's actually at stake when an institution has drifted from its purpose, when a leader is performing rather than leading, when the gap between mission and reality has grown wide enough to fracture everything else. To find the crux — the decisive point — and act on it.

The Crux is the practice that emerged from all of that. It works with mission-driven organizations and their leaders through advisory, leadership development, and contemplative practice — at the decisive moments that can no longer be avoided.