Paul Petruska on Purpose-Driven Leadership, Community Roots and What It Means to Show Up

Paul Petruska has built his career on connection, trust, and an unshakable sense of purpose. With nearly 30 years of experience spanning law, nonprofit leadership, business, and education, he brings a steady, grounded energy to everything he does. Whether he’s helping transform a housing project into a thriving neighborhood or mentoring the next generation of leaders, Paul Petruska is always focused on impact, not ego.

He currently serves in leadership roles at the High Point Housing Authority, USTA St. Louis, and Flance Early Childhood Center, where he works to expand access to opportunity and build stronger, more inclusive communities. In this conversation, Paul Petruska reflects on what keeps him motivated, how he defines success now, and the lessons he’s learned along the way.

When things get tough in your work, what helps you keep going?

It always comes back to the residents. I’ve been through seasons where funding was uncertain, crises hit unexpectedly, or decisions were just plain heavy. In those moments, I think of the mom who brought in her daughter’s college acceptance letter. Or the child who finally feels safe enough to play outside. That’s what grounds me. It’s why I do this.

Is there a shift happening right now that really excites you?

Yes. The idea of housing as a human right is gaining real traction, and that’s exciting. It’s not just activist language anymore—it’s part of policy discussions. That kind of shift in thinking means we can start to design housing as more than shelter. It becomes a foundation for equity, health, and mobility. That changes everything.

What challenges are you most focused on right now?

One of the biggest is changing the narrative around public housing. There’s still this harmful idea that it’s the end of the road. That kind of mindset limits funding, opportunity, and even how residents see themselves. At HPHA, we work to push back on that every day. We invest in the community, share real stories, and create places like Legacy Ridge that reflect dignity instead of decline.

Let’s talk about Legacy Ridge. Why does that project mean so much to you?

It’s the most powerful work I’ve ever been part of. Legacy Ridge isn’t just a development—it’s a symbol of what’s possible. I remember standing where the old Daniel Brooks Homes used to be and seeing families gather, kids laughing, energy returning to that space. That moment made it real. It wasn’t just about rebuilding housing. It was about bringing joy and hope back to a place that had lost them.

You work across so many different fields. How do you think they’re evolving?

I think we’re moving toward more connected systems. Legal services, education, housing, financial support—they’re starting to exist under one roof. That’s smart. Because stability in one area affects everything else. I also think youth development is changing. It’s not just about grades or test scores anymore. It’s about identity, resilience, and building leaders who know their roots and their worth.

What would you say to someone just starting out in law or community work?

Start by listening. If you come in thinking you’re going to fix everything, take a step back. The real power is in the people you serve. Titles and credentials don’t matter as much as your ability to build trust. Ask who’s missing from the conversation. Then figure out how to make space for them.

If you could give your younger self some advice, what would you say?

I’d tell myself that it’s okay to carry people’s stories with you. I used to think that separating personal and professional life was the only way to protect myself. But I’ve learned that empathy isn’t a burden—it’s fuel. It keeps the work real. Those stories are part of the reason I stay committed.

You’ve mentioned St. Louis as a big part of your story. What makes that place special to you?

St. Louis shaped my sense of justice. It’s a place where struggle is visible, but so is strength. I learned what it means to serve by being part of a community that doesn’t give up. The barriers I saw there, and the people who kept pushing through them, taught me how to lead with compassion.

Outside of work, how do you take care of yourself? What brings you joy?

Family and food. I love discovering new restaurants—especially places with soul food or creative fusion dishes. Sitting around a table, eating good food, swapping stories—that’s my reset. It’s where I feel most myself, most connected. It reminds me that joy doesn’t have to be complicated.

You’ve done so many different things—law, business, teaching, nonprofit work. What ties it all together for you?

I think I’m a connector at heart. Whether I’m speaking at a conference, mentoring a student, or leading a team, I’m trying to bring people together. I want to make complex things feel clear. I want people to feel seen and heard. And I want to help move things forward, in a way that lasts. That’s been the throughline in everything I’ve done.

How has your idea of success changed over time?

It used to be about recognition. Titles, accomplishments, and resume builders. That stuff still has its place, but now, success for me is about alignment. Am I doing work that feels true to who I am? Is it creating real opportunities for others? If I can say yes to those questions, then I’m where I need to be.

Do you have a quote or a personal motto you come back to often?

Maya Angelou said, “When you know better, do better.” That one’s stuck with me. Leadership isn’t about getting it perfect the first time. It’s about reflection, growth, and responsibility. I try to hold myself—and the people I lead—to that standard. Keep learning. Keep showing up better tomorrow than you did today.

What’s next for you, professionally or personally?

I’m focused on building bridges. Between systems, between people, between ideas and action. Whether that’s through expanding youth programs, reimagining housing, or mentoring new leaders, I want everything I do to point toward justice. I’m less interested in climbing now. I’m more interested in lifting.

Last question—what do you want your legacy to be?

I want to be remembered as someone who made space for others. Someone who believed in second chances, who helped change the story, who stayed grounded in the community. If I can leave behind stronger neighborhoods and more open doors for the next generation, I’ll be proud of that.

Thank you, Paul Petruska, for sharing your journey and perspective. Your work reminds us that leadership doesn’t come from a title—it comes from the way we show up, listen, and build something that lasts.

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