Today we’d like to introduce you to Regina Harris.
Hi Regina, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work-life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today?
Who I Am – Regina A. Harris
From Hamilton Park to the School Board — the long way around, with a stop for pizza.
Growing Up in Hamilton Park
I’m a Hamilton Park girl. I grew up in that small, historic African American community in North Dallas, in a family that gave me a great deal of support, and that turned out to be the template for everything I have done since. Hamilton Park shaped how I see neighborhoods, schools, and what it means to look out for the people around you. I went to Richardson ISD schools from pre-K all the way through twelfth grade, the same district I would end up serving decades later, though I had absolutely no idea about that at the time. From there I headed to Grambling State University and earned my bachelor’s degree in public relations.
“Not Enough Experience”
Then came the letters. So many letters. I had a public relations degree and an internship with Tracy-Locke Public Relations on my résumé, and the rejections still kept arriving with the same line: not enough experience. If you have ever been young, qualified, and told no over and over again, you know exactly what that stack of envelopes does to a person’s confidence.
What finally opened a door was not a PR firm. It was an administrative assistant job at one of Coca-Cola’s Dallas field offices. I took it. And without realizing it, I had just started a career in food service.
The Parking Garage Interview
I spent about five years at Coca-Cola before I heard that Pizza Hut, Inc. had moved its headquarters from Wichita, Kansas, to Dallas. Opportunity had literally relocated to my city.
So, I did what a determined woman with a full-time job and no time to spare does: I slipped out of the Coca-Cola office, changed into my interview clothes in the parking garage, drove over to Pizza Hut, and interviewed. I got the job — in Operations.
I loved it there. Honestly, one of my favorite jobs I have ever had. It was fun, the people were great, and there was an unreasonable amount of very good food. I worked my way up to Training Development Manager, which meant I got to train field staff on how to make pizza and wings. Yes, that was my actual job. Yes, it was as fun as it sounds.
Thirteen years in, “The Hut” went through a massive layoff, more than 800 of us at once. Through connections I had built over the years, I landed a new opportunity training City of Dallas staff. But that ending taught me something I have carried ever since: your relationships are the one part of your career that cannot be eliminated in a restructure.
How PTA Turned Into a Campaign
Somewhere in there I became a mom, and my son’s life became my calendar. School activities. Cub Scouts, where I served as Den Mom. And PTA, which I did not expect to become an entire second job.
PTA grew me. I served as PTA President at my son’s junior high school and again at his high school, then as Vice President of the Council of PTAs. I learned how a district actually works, the budgets, the meetings, the politics, and the gap between what gets announced and what actually reaches a classroom.
Then a mom approached me about running for the Richardson ISD School Board.
Let me be clear about where I was standing at that moment. I was a mom. A single mom. Signing up for yet another “volunteer opportunity” was not remotely on my radar. But I kept circling back to one thought: kids who look like me — Black and Brown kids — needed a champion in Richardson ISD, and so did a lot of parents and communities who were not being heard. Rita Pierson taught us that every kid needs a champion. So, I finally asked myself the question that changes everything: why not me?
Election Night
I ran in 2019 against three other African American women. The campaign was long, hard, and expensive in every sense of the word.
Somewhere in the middle of it, I was told flatly that I would never pull 51 percent against a field that size and that I should prepare for a runoff. That nearly flattened me. My campaign funds were running short, and I did not think I had any more wind left under my wings.
Election night was endless. We booked a hotel suite, voters and family came out to sit with me, and the results crawled in. Eventually everyone went home. Around 2 a.m., a very good friend called and said, “YOU WON.”
I could not believe it. And then, almost immediately: now what? I was scared, because winning meant I had to show up and show out, for the people who voted for me and for the people who did not.
That night also made me the first Black woman elected to the Richardson ISD Board of Trustees. In the district I attended from pre-K through twelfth grade, I was the first. Being first is an honor, and it also means you walk into every room carrying more than your own name.
Nothing Like I Imagined
My first years as a Trustee looked nothing like whatever I had pictured.
Four months into my term, COVID hit. We were scrambling to figure out how to keep kids learning and, more urgently, how to keep feeding the kids who depended on a school meal to get through the day. That is not a policy abstraction. That is a child who eats or does not eat.
Then came the mask and no-mask years. In the middle of that, our Board President determined she did not have what she needed to continue in the role, and I became President of the Richardson ISD School Board, the first Black woman to serve as President. I had already served as Secretary and Vice President, but I was still new, and now I was leading through the toughest stretch of decision-making the district had faced in years.
Our Superintendent at the time was a strong advocate for DEI. Many in the community supported that work and some did not — and here is what I learned about serving in public: you hear and feel the negativity far more loudly than the support, even when the support is larger.
Several months into my presidency, the Superintendent resigned. That was another hard chapter. She was loved by many, and many believed the board had terminated her. That is not what happened; the decision was hers. But the misunderstanding stung, and it was emotional for everyone involved.
The Fight Right Now
Public schools across the country are managing funding shortfalls, teacher shortages, and declining enrollment all at the same time. The work is hard on staff, on students, and on families, and we are in a real battle with legislators over the future of public education.
I remain on the board as a Trustee, and last year I was selected for the Texas Association of School Boards (TASB) 2025 Board of Directors.
I keep doing this for a simple reason: every child has the potential to learn. Advocating for kids matters, and sometimes the most important part of the job is helping a child see that potential in themselves.
The One I’m Proudest Of
I was raised by a family that showed up for me, so I showed up for my son — all the way through grade school and honestly to this day. I am certain that steady love and support is why he graduated from Richardson High School with honors and went on to Oklahoma State University.
He is now a teacher in Oklahoma City. I am incredibly proud of him, and I am proudest of how much he cares about every single one of his students. A Richardson ISD kid who grew up to teach somebody else’s kids — I could not have asked for a better answer to the question of why any of this work matters.
What I’m Building Now
Professionally, I have started my own business, RAHtify, LLC. RAHtify creates meaningful, sustainable change in individuals and organizations through evidence-based practices — the kind I have watched work in schools, government agencies, nonprofits, and private sector businesses. Through RAHtify I help leaders, teams, and students reach their goals with transformative training, coaching, and development strategies.
If that sounds like a strange landing place for a woman who once trained people to make wings, I would argue it is the most logical one there is. Every job I have held has been some version of the same work: figure out what a person or a group is capable of, then build the thing that gets them there.
I also work with federal agencies as an EEOC Counselor and Investigator — still fighting the good and important fight for equity, just from a different seat.
From Hamilton Park to a boardroom, by way of a parking garage and a whole lot of pizza. I would not script it any other way.
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
Smooth? Not even a little.
It started right out of college. I had a public relations degree from Grambling and an internship with Tracy-Locke, and I still collected rejection letter after rejection letter telling me I didn’t have enough experience. I never did land that PR job. I took an administrative assistant role at Coca-Cola instead, and that detour turned into a whole career I never planned.
Then thirteen years into a job I genuinely loved at Pizza Hut, I was one of more than 800 people laid off at once. You don’t prepare for that.
The campaign was its own kind of hard. I was a single mom running against three other Black women in 2019, and somewhere in the middle of it I was told flatly that I would never pull 51 percent and should brace for a runoff. My funds were running out and I didn’t think I had anything left. Election night dragged until 2 a.m. before a friend called to tell me I’d won.
And then the job started. Four months in, COVID hit and we were scrambling to keep kids learning and — more urgently — keep feeding the kids who depended on a school meal to eat that day. During the mask fights, our Board President stepped down and I became President as a still-new trustee. Months later our Superintendent resigned, and a lot of people believed the board had pushed her out. That wasn’t what happened, but the anger came anyway.
Here’s what I’ve learned about serving in public: you hear the criticism much more loudly than the support, even when the support is bigger. You have to decide to keep showing up anyway.
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know?
RAHtify, LLC operates on three words: Educate, Transform, Empower. We create meaningful, sustainable change in individuals and organizations through evidence-based practices, and we work across federal and state agencies, school districts, unions, nonprofits, private employers, community advocacy groups, and individual leaders. We’re based in Dallas and serve clients remotely and nationwide.
The work lives in two signature program areas.
The first is EEOC and workplace equity. I’ve conducted more than 50 investigations, counseled over 100 cases, and served five federal agencies. That experience became training: Understanding Your Rights, How to Respond to a Discrimination Charge, EEO Compliance for Managers and HR Teams, and FAD Writing and Investigation Fundamentals. Most people encounter the EEOC process at the worst moment of their working life and have no idea how it works. I teach them how it works.
The second is education advocacy and board leadership. Six and a half years of school board leadership sits behind Navigating Your School Board, Effective Advocacy for Students and Families, School Board Governance Essentials, and one I care about more than almost anything I offer — How to Run for School Board.
That last one is personal. In 2019 a mom approached me about running, and I nearly said no. I was a single mom, my funds ran short, and I was told outright I’d never win. I did, and I became the first Black woman elected to the Richardson ISD Board of Trustees. Nobody handed me a manual. So now I write the manual, because the next woman who gets that phone call shouldn’t have to figure it out alone.
What sets RAHtify apart is that I’ve sat in every seat I now serve. I’m not a consultant who studied these rooms from the outside. I’ve made the decisions I coach people through — as Board President during a pandemic, as a trainer at Pizza Hut and for the City of Dallas, as an EEO counselor working federal cases right now.
Brand-wise, I’m proudest of the butterfly. Transformation isn’t a slogan for me; it’s the actual product. And the name carries my initials, which was deliberate — my name is on every room I walk into.
What I want readers to know is that all of it is one job: figure out what a person or group is capable of, then build the thing that gets them there. Every child has the potential to learn, and so does every adult. Sometimes the most valuable thing I do is help someone see that potential in themselves.
Find us at www.rahtify.com.
How do you define success?
For a long time I would have told you success was the win. Getting the job. Getting the title. That 2 a.m. phone call telling me I’d won.
I don’t think that anymore. The night I won, my very next thought was now what — and that’s when I understood the win isn’t the thing. It’s the beginning of the obligation.
These days I measure success three ways.
Did I show up for the people who didn’t choose me? That was the promise I made myself that night. Anyone can serve the people who voted for them. The test is whether you serve the ones who didn’t, and whether they can tell you meant it.
Did somebody get through a door because I went first? Being the first Black woman elected to my district’s board was an honor, and it was also evidence of how long that door stayed shut. Being first only counts if you’re not the last. That’s the whole reason I teach a course called How to Run for School Board — my win means nothing if the next woman has to figure it out alone the way I did.
Did a kid see something in themselves they hadn’t seen before? Rita Pierson taught us every child needs a champion. I keep coming back to that, because I’m not sure I’ve ever done anything more important.
And honestly, my clearest measure of success is a person. My son graduated from Richardson ISD with honors, went to Oklahoma State, and is now teaching in Oklahoma City. He didn’t just get educated by the system I fight for. He turned around and went back in to serve it.
That’s success. That’s the whole thing.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.rahtify.com
