Daily Inspiration: Meet Shiré Wortham

Today we’d like to introduce you to Shiré Wortham.

Shiré, we appreciate you taking the time to share your story with us today. Where does your story begin?
I was born to a teen mom and raised by my paternal grandmother from the age of four. I’m the oldest of four siblings but the only child between my parents. Because of the big age gap, I grew up feeling like an only child—often lonely, carrying emotions I didn’t have the language for at the time. I now know I was in what’s called hidden foster care. My grandmother stepped up, and I’ll always be grateful for her, but that experience came with a lot of internalized anger, pain, and confusion I’ve had to work through over time.

Even through the chaos, I always knew I wanted to help people, I just wasn’t sure how. I started college as a nursing major, but after one sociology class my freshman year, everything shifted. I saw myself and my community reflected in the systems we were learning about, and I knew social work was where I was meant to be. I became the first in my family—on both sides—to earn a bachelor’s, then a master’s, and now I’m working on my doctorate in social work.

I’m a mother of two boys, and they’ve been a big part of my why. I lead as the Associate Director of Social Services at a legal nonprofit in Los Angeles, where I oversee programs for caregivers, expectant and parenting foster youth, and youth in other versions of out-of-home care. I also mentor MSW students as they step into the field.

In 2021, I also co-founded an event planning business with one of my close friends after she pointed out how much I loved creating meaningful, beautiful spaces for people to feel celebrated and seen. It’s one more way I get to channel creativity and joy, even as I continue doing the hard work of advocacy and systems change.

I’ve experienced a lot of trauma in my life, but I’ve never stopped moving forward. My story is one of resilience, purpose, and showing up fully; not just in spite of my past, but because of it. I didn’t get here because it was easy. I got here because I refused to let the trauma I experienced define the future I’m building, for myself and for others.

We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
It’s definitely not been a smooth road. From birth to age four, I lived in an environment that was unsafe. It was not a space meant for children, and I carry the impact of those early years with me, even now. That kind of start shapes how you see the world and how you learn to protect yourself. When I went to live with my grandmother, things stabilized, but the emotional weight didn’t just disappear. I was raised outside the formal system, but still separated from my parents. I struggled with trust, attachment, and feeling like I truly didn’t belong anywhere.

One of the biggest hurdles I faced came when I tried to apply for college. Because my caregiving situation wasn’t legally documented, I ran into serious issues with FAFSA. I didn’t qualify for the support I actually needed. It felt like the system was saying, “You don’t exist,” even though I was doing everything right. I almost didn’t go to college because of it, and I had to fight hard just to be seen and supported.

Since then, I’ve navigated higher education as a first-generation college student, worked full-time while raising two boys, and led programs and teams in spaces where I’ve often been the only Black woman in leadership. I’ve dealt with imposter syndrome, burnout, and the emotional toll of carrying my community’s stories while still healing my own..

Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
I’m the Associate Director of Social Services at a nonprofit legal advocacy organization in Los Angeles. My work sits at the intersection of law, social work, and racial justice, supporting youth in out-of-home care, expectant and parenting foster youth, and the caregivers who step up for them. I lead programs that are often the only form of consistent support these families receive, and I advocate within legal systems that historically weren’t built to prioritize well-being or equity.

What I specialize in is bridging the gap between systems, between disciplines, and between people who’ve never shared space before. I’m known for bringing a authentic lens into everything I do; whether it’s shaping program models, mentoring social work students, training legal teams, or sitting at the table with leadership to push structural change.

What I’m most proud of is the work I’ve done to create reflective, responsive programs that actually honor the lived experiences of the communities we serve. I helped develop and expand a two-generation support program for young parents in foster care, and I’ve been a key part of leading a caregiver support initiative that has shifted the caregivers—not as secondary, but as essential. I’m a member of a Black Birth Worker Advisory Council, advocating for culturally grounded, community-led solutions in reproductive health, perinatal mental health, and child welfare.

What sets me apart is that I don’t just lead from theory—I lead from lived experience. I am the community I serve. I’ve navigated the systems I now work to transform. That gives me a different kind of insight, one that’s rooted in truth, humility, and vision. My leadership style is relational, unapologetically justice-driven, and deeply intentional about creating space for others—especially Black & Brown women and youth—to lead, heal, and thrive.

Do you have any advice for those just starting out?
My advice for anyone just starting out, especially folks from marginalized communities is this: your lived experience is not a deficit; it’s a source of power. You don’t have to leave parts of yourself at the door to be “professional.” The systems weren’t built with us in mind, but that doesn’t mean we don’t belong. In fact, we’re the ones who can reimagine what these systems could be.

I wish someone had told me earlier that rest is part of the work. You don’t have to prove your worth by burning out. The mission will still be there tomorrow, take care of yourself so you can show up with clarity and purpose.

Also: find your people. Whether it’s mentors, peers, or folks who just get it! You need a community that reminds you who you are when the world tries to make you forget. You don’t have to do this work alone.

Lastly, trust your path. You might not have it all figured out at the beginning, and that’s okay. I started out thinking I’d be a nurse. Now I’m in social work leadership, working on my doctorate, and running a business on the side. The journey might twist and stretch you, but if you stay grounded in your why, it’ll also grow you in ways you never imagined.