Alicia Scott: This is my story
I am a grandchild of the Great Migration West, a descendant of the millions of African Americans who fled the racial violence of the South and Midwest from 1910 to the 1970s in search of safety and equality. My family landed in Compton, California, where I was born and raised. I graduated from Compton High in the mid-'90s—in its peak years of gaining a national audience around resistance to police brutality. Organizing people around social issues was embedded in me at a young age. My high school senior class pulled of something amazing. Wanting to have the best senior year possible and a prom with the theme and music we wanted, all the Black kids banded together, decided on a slate of candidates for student body government, and won every seat. Just like that, I was elected Commissioner of Activities, planning our senior prom and choosing the playlist. This would ultimately be my first run for office!
Growing up in Compton, I didn’t grasp that I was living in a government-sponsored urban war zone. We had great teachers who told us what was going on, but kids couldn’t comprehend that stuff. But even amid all that was going on in my city, I kept reaching for more, eventually earning a B.A. in Political Science from the University of Maryland and an M.A. in Diplomacy and International Commerce from Norwich University.
Being raised by Boomers—the activist generation—meant that education and justice were non-negotiable in my house.
At 21, I landed my first real job that didn’t involve waitressing or selling makeup (though trust me, I’ve got stories from those days). I was hired by a boutique wealth management firm in Beverly Hills. It was a small, private advisory firm run by two Jewish partners, a man and a woman. Working there shifted how I saw the world. One day, I was stepping into some of LA’s most extravagant mansions, and the next, I was grappling with the stark realities of wealth and inequality.
That job launched my career in financial services, and over the next decade, I climbed the ranks at major firms, proving I could tackle just about anything. The industry was changing fast, and I kept pace, even picking up SQL programming along the way. At National Planning Corporation and Pacific Life, I led key departments. I pulled off some game-changing moves, like implementing an early version of a “paywall” that saved the company hundreds of thousands by shifting registered reps to digital client statements instead of mailing them out every quarter. That kind of problem-solving landed me a seat at corporate development tables, often as the youngest leader in the room. Then came the 2008 financial crisis. The industry was in upheaval, and like so many others, I had to recalibrate. Success, especially for women, often comes with trade-offs. One marriage down, one daughter in tow, I remarried and made a bold move—South Korea became home.
Living abroad had always been a dream; once I got there, my ability to connect with and mobilize people kicked in. In 2009, my military family relocated to Uijeongbu, South Korea, where I volunteered with the 8th Army, working to strengthen relationships between soldiers and their host country. I helped establish the first Army Family Readiness Groups at USAG Camp Stanley and Camp Red Cloud, delivered the keynote for Black History Month at Camp Stanley, and led a Soldier Christmas Gear donation program—a joint effort between the Korean Businessmen’s Chamber of Commerce and the USFK 1st Signal Brigade.
By 2011, we were back stateside, settling just outside Savannah, Georgia. I worked for the Department of the Army for a few years, where I had my first up-close encounter with blatant workplace discrimination. Leadership would say things like, “You speak as if you have as much authority as the Director” and “You walk like you’re in charge.” My boss, the Director, an Italian woman with her own battle scars, once told me about volunteering to room with Black students during desegregation at the University of Alabama. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted about her peers who had begun attacking me for my “uppity” ways. That conversation stuck with me and has fueled my passion for bringing people of different ideological backgrounds together.
Eventually, my role was cut during federal sequestration. The Obama years. Things were heating up.
In 2014, we left Hinesville and moved into Savannah proper, where I wasted no time causing good trouble. I wrote a personal finance column, then a political op-ed column for The Savannah Herald, the city’s oldest Black newspaper. I also contributed a community column to Well Fed Magazine, covering Savannah’s arts and food scene. Around that time, I founded Introspect Consulting Group, advising elected officials and nonprofit executives on public policy and strategy.
And because I can’t sit still, I also launched an artistic positive energy movement called Walls of Hope. It started as a simple Facebook post—an idea to flood Savannah’s most violence-prone neighborhoods with powerful words and images. The right people showed up, and we made it happen. The artist behind all the paintings? He’s world-famous now.
By 2016, my consulting firm had racked up several big municipal campaign wins, which led to me being tapped as the Georgia Regional Field Director for the Bernie Sanders Presidential Campaign. Then, in 2018, I had a realization: real, lasting change requires a seat at the table. So, I ran for Georgia House District 164 as a Democrat. I came painfully close, losing by just 871 votes in one county out of three.
That year was a whirlwind. In the middle of my campaign, I co-organized a movement along with the Girl Scouts of America to rename Savannah’s Talmadge Bridge and gave a TEDx Savannah talk on America’s Confederate monuments. In a perfect twist of fate, my political opponent—completely unaware of my involvement—introduced the very bill to rename the bridge in the Georgia General Assembly. Imagine doing your opponent’s work for them. I swear I didn’t plan that… or did I?
After my political run, I made the leap to Atlanta. My daughter had graduated high school and joined the U.S. Air Force, and my husband and I, having done the parenting thing together, decided to part ways as friends. In Atlanta, I became Executive Director at LaunchPad2X, an organization supporting women entrepreneurs. It was a refreshing shift—still about leadership, but now focused on economic empowerment. With my background in finance, estate planning, and running large P&L centers, I helped women navigate the startup world in ways many had never been taught.
One of my proudest moments was organizing the 2019 Women’s Entrepreneurship Day Conference at UPS Global Headquarters, where we put powerhouse women on stage to share their journeys with emerging entrepreneurs. Many of those women have since built thriving businesses across Atlanta and beyond. Bringing hundreds of women together and creating networks of support was the real win.
Then the pandemic hit. Funding dried up, and it was time to recalibrate. Years earlier, before I ever moved to Savannah, I had met Dr. Mildred McClain—a force in the Environmental Justice movement. She made it her mission to turn me into a climate and environmental justice advocate. I started working with the Port Working Groups before leaving for Atlanta, so when my time at LaunchPad2X ended, I found my way back to the fight.
That led me to the Partnership for Southern Equity, where I ran the Just Energy Programs, led the Just Energy Academy Leadership Development Training Academy, and produced a documentary film called the The 4th Arm focused on Black women organizing in the climate and energy justice movement across Georgia. I was part of the early efforts pushing for a Clean Energy Standard (CES), working on the Bipartisan Infrastructure Bill (BIF), and eventually, contributing to the Inflation Reduction Act, the largest clean energy and climate investment in U.S. history. I was part of history, y’all.
In 2022, I took a leap and founded Coalitico LLC. Not long after, I landed a contract as Georgia State Director for the U.S. Energy Foundation and U.S. Energy Action Fund. My job? Consulting for a major national foundation, helping to organize the Georgia Climate Funder’s Collective, and bringing together a coalition of NGOs across the state working on clean energy and climate change. On top of that, I was tasked with developing an equitable funding strategy to help them push Georgia’s clean energy transition forward.
That coalition took off. It became the largest clean energy advocacy group in Georgia, and by 2024, the state had climbed to the top ranks nationally for securing federal clean energy funds. It started as the Georgia SFCI Coalition, but by the time I stepped away, it had grown into something even bigger—an independent powerhouse known as the GOST group. Strong, organized, and charging ahead without missing a beat.
My journey through finance, politics, advocacy, and philanthropy has given me a front-row seat to how deeply connected our society truly is. Along the way, I’ve honed a knack for solving complex problems, bringing people together, and crafting strategies where everyone wins—that’s my superpower. If you’re reading this, I hope you’ll bring me on board to work some of that magic for your organization too.
