Meet Dominique

The Origin Story: A Legacy of Civic Duty

Dominique's commitment to public service didn't start with her. It runs generations deep. Her great-grandparents — her grandmother's parents in North Carolina — spent election days driving neighbors to the polls. That was their tradition. Dominique grew up hearing those stories, and she grew up around family who served in the federal government, including her father, who protected the President as a member of the United States Secret Service. When you know that many people working inside cabinet-level agencies, public life stops being abstract. Government has faces you love. Service is a job your family does.

Her pivotal moment came in ninth grade. She was taking Local, State & National Government — the required civics class — and her teacher assigned a months-long project following the 2000 presidential election. Students gathered news clippings, tracked political cartoons, watched the debates, and were expected to turn the project in the day after Election Day. The final page asked one simple question: who won? Dominique and her classmates walked into school that morning with no answer. The country didn't know who its next president was. For a thirteen-year-old who had grown up believing the machinery of government was something solid, that was a formative crisis — and a formative invitation to pay attention.

At the same time, she was being bussed into Suitland High School for its magnet program. The contrast between the neighborhood she was bussed from and the communities her classmates lived in — District Heights, Capitol Heights, Forestville — was stark, and it stuck with her. That's when she first wanted to get involved and fix things. What she didn't realize yet was that wanting to fix it wasn't enough. It would take a career of detours — federal service, a housing firm across five states, consulting for Congress, teaching college students, guest-lecturing at a law school — before she had the insight to understand how these systems actually work, what's actually broken, and what a real fix looks like. That is the path that brought her back home to run for Prince George's County Council District 6.

The Scholar-Practitioner: Turning Pain into Policy

Dominique's academic path in Politics and Philosophy at Washington & Lee and George Mason University was always intended to be a stepping stone toward the law, but life provided a different, more grueling education. As a survivor of domestic violence and dating abuse, Dominique realized that abuse had been normalized in her world until a graduate school internship with the Red Flag Campaign opened her eyes to the difference between interpersonal abuse and healthy relationships. This revelation changed her trajectory. She began teaching college students in Northern Virginia about the "red flags" of abuse, eventually taking this mission into the federal government.

At just 25, while working for the U.S. Department of Education, Dominique wrote a healthy relationships curriculum and a bill to fund its teaching in schools. She argued a simple, powerful truth: it made no sense to teach sex education without the context of the relationships in which those acts occur. She requested a meeting with then-Secretary of Education Arne Duncan, who, after a 15-minute presentation, told her this was her "legacy." Following his advice, she authored and self-published What Happens In This House in 2016. The book became a required text at George Mason University and the foundation for her non-profit, We Teach Love, which eventually reached international audiences as far as Uganda.

The Pivot: From Federal Service to Real Estate Reform

Dominique's entry into real estate was born out of frustration. At 26, after buying her first home in Bowie, she was appalled by the poor service and lack of care from the agents she encountered. She decided to get her license simply so she would never have to hire another agent again.

However, political shifts in 2016 threatened the federal agency where she was working (the Office of Financial Research at the Department of the Treasury). Facing a "Reduction in Force" (RIF), Dominique didn't look for another government job. Instead, at age 30, she doubled down, earned her broker's license, and launched her own firm. She vowed to right the wrongs she had witnessed, paying her agents 80–100% commissions, prohibiting predatory practices like "wholesaling," and providing rigorous one-on-one training. By her fifth anniversary, she had expanded her brokerage to five states. During this time, she launched a subsidiary dedicated to her late grandfather: The Kirby Institute.

The Kirby Institute: Dismantling the Housing Industrial Complex

What began as a subsidiary evolved into a "think-and-do tank" fueled by Dominique's firsthand encounters with racism and discrimination in Southern real estate markets. These experiences led her back to the law as a consultant for the highest levels of government.

Dominique has identified and defined what she calls the "Housing Industrial Complex"—the framework that upholds a culture of discrimination and wealth extraction. Today, she applies this redefinition in her work as: A Consultant to Congress—advising federal and state officials in Maryland and Georgia on equitable solutions. An Educator—having taught college students and guest-lectured at Washington & Lee University School of Law on civil rights and racial justice. An Expert Witness—providing the professional and ethical clarity needed to settle housing disputes.

Ethics as a Practice, Not a Slogan

Every politician says they believe in transparency, accountability, and fairness. Those words are cheap. Dominique wanted to know what they actually require when you have to make a decision and defend it — which is why she earned a master's in ethics. It's not a talking point. It's a framework for every vote, every conflict, every resident who trusts her with a problem.

Other candidates believe in ethics. I have a master's in it — and I'll govern like someone who had to defend a thesis.

The "Why"

Dominique remains a proud Marylander, carrying a family legacy of civic duty, the heart of Accokeek and Suitland, and the resilience of a survivor into every room she enters. Whether she is training 1,000+ housing professionals or advising on federal policy, her mission is to ensure that "home" is a sanctuary of safety and equity — not a site of extraction. For Dominique, housing is the "Sale of Survival," and she is dedicated to making sure that survival is never again used as an excuse for inequity.