Finding Purpose in the Wake of Adversity
Law and Policy Fellows Blog Series
The year 2025 began wonderfully with me being selected for a temporary work assignment in the Office of Public Engagement, United States Patent and Trademark Office (USPTO). This experience sparked such joy. It was so different from my work as an attorney enforcing patent rules and regulations at the USPTO. This position tapped into my love of teaching. I reveled in watching children grasp patent law concepts, providing guidance to college students on careers in intellectual property, and helping people from so many different walks of life navigate the patent system. I dreamed of finding a way to spend the rest of my career in this space.
This dream turned into a DOGE-inspired nightmare when in February 2025, I was one of a handful of USPTO probationary employees fired without cause. OPM director Russell Vought reportedly wanted to put federal employees “in trauma.” The indiscriminate termination of a handful of probationary employees at an agency that received no federal funding let USPTO employees know that they would not be spared the suffering.
I felt disconnected as the world moved on with little regard for the impact of the actions of the Trump administration on the lives of so many federal employees. I felt singled-out, as Black women like me were disproportionately affected, with more than 300,000 Black women exiting the labor force or losing their jobs between February and July 2025. I found myself almost constantly scouring news reports and social media for some support, for some condemnation of the treatment of federal employees, for some reversal of this acknowledged illegal process, for some reckoning with the apparent discrimination. I spent too much time shouting into the abyss of LinkedIn and other media longing for the occasional affirmation.
The unfairness that I felt was sometimes almost too much to bear. I had worked for almost 20 years in the same position in the excepted service and was two months away from the end of my second two-year probationary period. For 30 years, since graduating from law school in 1993, with occasional exception, I had worked directly or indirectly for the federal government. Now, nearing the end, I would not be able to retire gracefully but would be unceremoniously shown the door.
For a while I felt my faith was faltering. Then I realized what I had truly lost: my faith in man and the rule of law.
Unempathetically, the acting director of the USPTO said my firing as a probationary employee did not matter because I would be terminated when a reduction in workforce occurred. No reduction in force has occurred. My complaint filed with the Office of Special Counsel was denied by form email, not by carefully crafted legal decision, such as I had written to complainants and petitioners so many times over my career; and not on the merits, but on the basis that the 2,000 complaints they had received were too many to adjudicate.
The consideration of the matter in federal court offered some hope, but that hope was short-lived. Ultimately, US District Judge William Alsup acknowledged that probationary employees were illegally fired, but did not order reinstatement. More screaming into the abyss and crying into my pillow occurred when to my amazement, as I sat unemployed receiving $340 a week after taxes in unemployment income, Judge Alsup wrote “the terminated probationary employees have moved on with their lives and found new jobs. Many would no longer be willing or able to return to their posts. The agencies in question have also transformed in the intervening months by new executive priorities and sweeping reorganization.” Relief was limited to having the Department of Commerce place yet another letter in my file stating that the termination was not based on performance or conduct. Presently, I await further action on a class action filed May 2025 with the Merit System Protection Board.
Yet, from a faith perspective, I realize my next steps had already been ordered. On the same date that I was terminated, I attended a conference in the auditorium of the USPTO where Northeastern University School of Law Professor Kara Swanson was a panelist. Between my breaks to go in the hallway and cry a little more, I found the composure to connect with Professor Swanson and express my interest in teaching a course on Intellectual Property and Social Justice. Later, I searched for her on LinkedIn, and consequently, the algorithms then shared with me information on a Northeastern University Law and Policy Fellowship for government employees making career transitions. Northeastern University, and in particular, Professors Sharmila Murthy and Maria Ivanova with the support of Renay Frankel, then managing director of Northeastern Law’s Center for Public Interest Advocacy and Collaboration, saw the suffering of federal employees, and true to the character of Northeastern, with its top public interest law school devoted to social justice, created the fellowship.
The Northeastern Law and Policy Fellowship sparked joy in me again. I engaged with Northeastern University students and was mentored by professors. I gained confidence in my potential for professional success in academia. In the spring of 2026, I taught Intellectual Property and Social Justice at Penn State Dickinson Law. At the conclusion, one of my students wrote “Professor Johnson is warm and open and creates a great class environment where we feel free to share thoughts and experiences and also laugh together while we learn.” I now know that the space inspiring the next generation of attorneys is where I want my career to culminate.
July 2026
About the Author
Nancy Johnson was a Northeastern Law and Policy Fellow during the 2025–2026 academic year. Previously, she spent almost 20 years as an attorney advisor at the United States Patent and Trademark Office. Currently, she is continuing to redefine her place in the legal profession as a contributor to legal scholarship, as an advocate for the marginalized and as a mentor of the next generation of lawyers.
Opinions expressed are those of the authors or their subjects and do not necessarily reflect the views of Northeastern University School of Law or Northeastern University.




