When Tennessee Supreme Court Justice Holly Kirby and I sat down on the sofa in her office, she suggested we “hijack” the standard retirement interview questions. I was totally on board with that suggestion. After all, I’ve known Holly since our days in the University of Memphis Student Senate, where she was speaker and I was speaker pro tempore. We both went on to study at the Cecil C. Humphreys School of Law, and I’ve had the privilege of watching her career unfold — from her years at Burch, Porter and Johnson, through becoming the first woman on the Tennessee Court of Appeals, to her tenure on the Tennessee Supreme Court.

Our conversation wasn’t just a checklist of professional milestones. It was two old friends catching up — about families, her daughter’s upcoming wedding, her retirement at the end of June and a long-awaited trip to Italy with her husband. But, as anyone who knows Holly might guess, the talk soon deepened. After years on the appellate bench, she has been reflecting on leadership and on what it means to wield power with humility and purpose.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about leadership,” she said. “Not just in the sense of guiding others, but in the sense of understanding what it requires of you.”

Justice Holly Kirby and her husband Russell Ingram with their dogs, Doc, lying down, and Charley, seated.

Learning to Wield Power

When Holly first joined the Supreme Court, she viewed the work as a natural continuation of her intermediate appellate court service: analyzing legal issues, interpreting precedent and crafting opinions. But the role of a justice on the state’s highest court quickly revealed itself to be something broader and far more powerful.

“I didn’t initially appreciate how powerful the Supreme Court is,” she reflected. “In fact, I may have even shied away from it a bit. On the Court of Appeals, we focused on resolving the legal questions before us. But at the Supreme Court, you begin to realize you’re shaping not only the law but the system itself. It’s a very different kind of responsibility.”

2025 Tennessee Supreme Court: from left, Justice Dwight Tarwater, Justice Jeff Bivins, Chief Justice Holly Kirby, Justice Sarah Campbell, Justice Mary Wagner

It was her late colleague, Justice Cornelia “Connie” Clark, who showed her what that kind of power could mean and how it could be used wisely.

“You build coalitions, you build community. That’s how good law and good leadership happen.”

The Example of Justice Clark

When Holly recalls Justice Clark, her admiration is unmistakable. “By her example, Connie taught a master class in how to wield power,” she said. “We shared being introverts by nature, so her ways were relatable to me. She was unassuming and humble, and yet when it was needed, she was unafraid to embrace the power that came with her position.”

Clark modeled a leadership style built not only on authority but also on relationship. She understood that persuasion, a skill at the heart of both law and leadership, isn’t about volume; it’s about credibility, empathy and openness.

Tennessee Supreme Court investure, 2014

“She taught me that wielding power begins with the ability to persuade and to be persuaded,” Holly said. “You have to approach every issue with an open mind, ready to listen and to grow. Real strength lies in being able to build consensus, to build community, to collaborate.”

That lesson was nowhere more evident than in Clark’s work beyond the courtroom. From her leadership in helping to establish the Access to Justice Commission to her efforts connecting faith and law through the Faith and Justice Alliance, she led through inspiration by appealing to both intellect and compassion.

“Of course, you still have to do your due diligence,” Holly added. “You have to marshal facts, find data-driven information and build your case. But Connie showed me that persuasion also comes from the heart. When people can feel that you genuinely care about the issue at hand and also about them, they’re inspired to act.”

It was a quality Holly carried forward in her own leadership. “That was when I realized it wasn’t enough to be ‘just Holly.’ Once you take on a role like this, you have to be more. You must embody the integrity and steadiness that the position demands.” Holly went on, saying, “Connie showed me that power isn’t about control, it’s about inspiration and caring. It’s about how you use your position to bring others along.”

Tennessee Court of Appeals, 1995

The Role and the Person

At one point, our conversation turned to a shared experience: the professional recognition that accumulates over time. We laughed about the plaques, certificates and occasional awards dinners, but beneath the laughter was a deeper understanding.

“The recognition isn’t really because of you as a person,” Holly said. “It’s because of the role you’ve held and, more importantly, how you’ve held it.”

In law, perhaps more than in most professions, roles carry enormous weight. They come with public trust, and that trust is renewed or lost based on how those roles are inhabited.

“You realize,” Holly said, “you’re being recognized not because you’re Holly Kirby, but because of how you’ve tried to live out the responsibilities of being Justice Kirby. The role itself carries meaning, and how you hold it.  That’s what people remember and what they value. It gives purpose and meaning to the life you choose to lead.”

That distinction captures something essential about both women’s legacies. For Connie Clark and Holly Kirby, the true power of the position has never been about authority — it’s been about service. Leadership, for them, means using power responsibly and with empathy, so that justice remains accessible to those who need it most.

“The recognition isn’t really about you, it’s about how you inhabit the role you’ve been entrusted with.”

TBA President Ed Lanquist, Kirby, ABA Chair of the House of Delegates Jonathan Cole, 2024 ABA Annual Meeting

Feeling the Fear and Doing It Anyway

When I asked Holly about what has made her career feel truly meaningful, she didn’t hesitate. “Knowing that the work matters,” she said simply. “Not the title, not the recognition, as appreciated and important as that is, but the actual work. When you can look back and know that lives were affected for the better, that the law was made a little more just, a little more accessible. That’s what gives it meaning. That’s what makes you want to keep going even on the hardest days.”

And yet, she was also candid about something that doesn’t always make it into the polished narratives of distinguished careers: fear. “There have been moments of fear and anxiety,” she said, her voice steady but honest. “When you step into a new role, when you take a hard position on a controversial case, when you speak a truth that some would rather not hear, there is fear and anxiety. I don’t think it ever fully goes away.”

There was anxiety in 1995, when she was appointed as the first woman in Tennessee’s history to serve on the Court of Appeals. At the time, she was quite aware that, if her performance as a judge wasn’t excellent, some of the older men on the court would draw a broad conclusion that women couldn’t “cut it” as judges. She had to push through the anxiety and do the work.

What has stayed with her over the years, and what she would pass along to any young lawyer or leader, is that courage is not the absence of fear. It is moving forward in spite of it. “You feel the fear, you feel the anxiety,” she said, “and you do it anyway. Because the work is bigger than your anxiety about it. Because the people depending on you deserve your best effort, even when — or maybe especially when — that requires stepping onto uncertain ground.”

That spirit of leading from the heart rather than purely from the head or from a desire for self-preservation has defined Holly’s tenure on the bench. She speaks of authenticity not as a buzzword but as a discipline. “You can’t lead people well if you’re performing a version of yourself you think they want to see,” she said. “They sense if you are inauthentic. They know. The only real foundation for trust is being genuinely who you are, by living out your values, your doubts, your commitments.”

It is, perhaps, the most countercultural piece of leadership advice one could offer in a profession that prizes precision, certainty and decorum above almost all else. And yet Holly has embodied it — in her writing, in her mentorship, in the way she shows up for colleagues and litigants alike. She has led not with armor, but with openness. Not with detachment, but with genuine care.

Kirby as chief justice at State of the State 2024, with then-Judge Mary Wagner, behind, awaiting confirmation

A Season of Reflection

As retirement approaches, Holly’s reflections are suffused not with melancholy but gratitude. “I don’t know exactly what’s next,” she admitted with a smile. “I’m looking forward to my daughter’s wedding, our trip to Italy and whatever life brings. But I also know I’ll keep thinking about how we lead, how we listen and how we use whatever power we have to make things just a little better.”

Her outlook is humble yet active, grounded yet forward-looking but it is also emblematic of her career. Holly has always seen leadership as stewardship, a responsibility to use one’s role for the benefit of others. That conviction, learned through mentorship and lived through years of service, will undoubtedly continue to guide her beyond the bench.

After all, as her friend, I know this: Holly may describe herself as “just Holly,” but the example she has set is anything but ordinary.

Kirby dominating at Jenga during TBA’s 2024 Convention

A Legacy of Integrity

In a judicial career marked by intellect, compassion and unflinching fairness, Justice Holly Kirby leaves behind far more than a body of opinions. She leaves a model of leadership grounded in humility, honesty and courage; these are the qualities that ensure justice stays human.

Her reflections are shaped by the example of Justice Connie Clark and her own thoughtful approach to wielding power. This should remind us that leadership in the law is not about the accolades we receive, but about how we hold the trust we’ve been given.

That may be the best definition of access to justice there is: to lead with integrity so that others may follow, not in reverence, but in faith that the system works because people like Holly Kirby made it stronger. |||