When Grand Rapids City Attorney Anita Hitchcock announced her retirement, the moment carried more than the usual weight of a public official stepping away after decades of service. It marked the conclusion of a uniquely impactful career—one defined not by titles or legal victories alone, but by an enduring commitment to empathy, equity, and the belief that justice is as much about healing as it is about enforcement.
“I didn’t take a straight line,” Hitchcock says. “But I still got there.”
Born to a teenage mother and raised in Grand Rapids from the age of two, Hitchcock grew up shaped by service. “I’m my mother’s child,” she explains. “She sacrificed so much for other people. I didn’t want to be that. And then—I grew up. And I am that.” Her life’s trajectory, marked by resilience and unexpected detours, reflects both the quiet strength of her roots and a fierce sense of purpose. From working factory jobs at Steelcase to supporting seminary students at Calvin University, Hitchcock’s journey toward the law was winding but always intentional.
Her early inspiration came from watching the infamous Sam Sheppard case unfold on television, and the passionate defense mounted by F. Lee Bailey. “At 12, I wanted to be an attorney,” she says. “That case stirred something in me.” But college, marriage, and motherhood interrupted that plan. “Don’t give up,” she advises. “Sometimes it’s not a no—it’s a not yet.”
Hitchcock set out to make her mother proud, gaining admission to University of Michigan. But life intervened. She eloped and had a child a year later. After dropping out of U of M, Hitchcock went to work at Steelcase for 13 years, and she made good money doing it. But at one point she decided that was not what she wanted to do her whole life. She decided to finish her college degree at Aquinas and then went to work at Calvin College (now Calvin University). Eventually, she realized that wasn’t the end of her professional ambitions, even though she found a lot of satisfaction in her job there.
“It was too sterile for me. I wanted to go out in the world and make a difference,” Hitchcock said.
After seven years, she made a bold pivot and enrolled at Thomas M. Cooley Law School. Her original goal was to go into estate planning, but without prior experience, law firms weren’t biting. It was suggested she apply to the City of Grand Rapids to gain practical legal experience—a role she hadn’t imagined for herself. Yet from that unexpected starting point, Hitchcock rose steadily, ultimately becoming city attorney in 2016 after a national search—breaking barriers as the first Black woman in the position and redefining what the role could be.
Her tenure will be remembered for its quiet but radical shifts: steering the department from a punitive framework toward one centered on restorative justice. “We started asking young people not just about what they did that got them in trouble, but what they wanted to do with their lives,” she says. “If they said they wanted to be a nurse, we told them to go to GRCC and figure out how to apply. That became the consequence—taking responsibility for your future.”
In that framework, justice became human again. It became local. And it became possible.
As she nears retirement, Hitchcock channels the words of Langston Hughes: “What happens to a dream deferred?” Her answer: “It’s not a dream lost.” The reference is deliberate—and deeply personal. Like Hughes and Lorraine Hansberry, whose “Raisin in the Sun” echoes through Hitchcock’s worldview, she sees justice as inextricably linked to dignity and aspiration.
And like Hansberry, she has lived through—and worked within—the contradiction of being asked to serve in a system that often works against her own community. “Some people were upset with me, asked me why I wanted to be a city attorney,” she recalls. Some saw the role as one that inherently stood in opposition to their interests. But Hitchcock believed her presence in that office could serve a higher purpose. She understood that the position came with discretion—she could influence which cases were pursued and how justice was applied. In her view, that kind of authority, when held by someone with empathy and lived experience, could be used to build trust and affect real change.
That empathy also shaped her relationship with the Grand Rapids Police Department. Hitchcock didn’t just represent the city in litigation—she helped reshape its culture. She led initiatives to address bias in traffic stops and partnered with national leaders in police reform, including consultants from President Obama’s 21st Century Policing Task Force. Her approach was clear-eyed and collaborative, recognizing both the strengths of the local department and the urgent need for continued evolution.
Still, she remains deeply concerned about the fraying relationship between youth and law enforcement. “It breaks my heart when I talk to kids in schools and hear how they see the police,” she says. “They see them as the enemy. And that makes me sad.” Her dream for retirement? Not travel or rest—but more time in Grand Rapids Public Schools, building bridges. “I want to help kids see that people like me—lawyers, police—aren’t adversaries. We can be their advocates.”
That duality—tough-minded reformer and nurturing mentor—has defined her leadership. Her office has become a training ground for young lawyers, many of whom may not have considered public service as a path. She started internship pipelines, pushed for diverse hiring, and built what she proudly calls a “culture-first” team. “I don’t just hire for talent. I hire for team fit,” she says. “That’s the greatest accomplishment for me. I can leave knowing this team won’t miss a beat.”
And yet, stepping away is not easy. “This job is non-stop,” she admits. “Most days, you’re handed a problem and expected to solve it. And I’ll miss that. I’ll miss the people.” But she’s also excited to reclaim parts of herself long deferred: reading voraciously, writing, maybe even publishing her book “God’s plan is greater than the devil’s plot,” she says with a laugh. “And I want to take up painting.”
In the end, Hitchcock’s story is not just about a woman rising through the legal ranks—it’s about a woman redefining power through presence. She showed that justice, when rooted in community and compassion, can be transformative. That the law, wielded with care, can bend toward restoration. And that even a dream deferred by decades can still blossom into something enduring and extraordinary.
Her legacy isn’t the last page—it’s a powerful chapter in the story of a city whose legacy is still being written.
