Lawyering can be chaotic and confusing. We are supposed to question everything, consider all sides, and use emotions to make an evocative argument. Yet, we are trained to bow down to authority, fight only for the side we represent, and never let our own emotions get in the way.
At law school, I studied five years’ worth of academic texts to understand the unseen social structures which govern us ubiquitously. My world was expanding, and I was growing and evolving everyday, writing critical research papers to make sense of this new nuanced world. Only after graduating did I question, has this world expanded only in theory?
When I got enrolled as an advocate, there was a five-minute viva and a seemingly endless ceremonial lecture. I sat by myself in the crowded hall, listening to senior members from the bar telling us how women shouldn’t leave their hair loose or wear make-up, somehow stretching the rationale to the nobility of the legal profession.
Soon thereafter, I would wear the armour of my black coat and run through courts, knowing only the two lines of submissions I repeatedly rehearsed in my mind. The thing is it did get better. The ‘Lawyer’ sticker on my car meant by-passers would give me way, the auto drivers would not haggle (too much), and coffee service in court got quicker. It was scary but also very exciting. Each day held the possibility of making groundbreaking submissions, even in the most banal proceedings.
Maybe it was youth or naivety, but there was a strong belief that if I kept going, I could change the world! One day, I was stepping down the stairs of the Magistrate Court, hearing some commotion but not really paying attention to it. Suddenly, in broad daylight, within the court premises, I saw a lawyer slap a witness! And I froze.
Working within the criminal justice system, one cannot escape frequent references to injustices – there’s custodial torture, bribery, and mind-numbingly long delays. But the sight of someone in my uniform being so blatantly violent changed something within me. I didn’t do anything as a ‘lawyer’ that day, but the guilt of my non-action made me question whether it was enough to hold high ideals in my mind, while being a passive observer to wrongs all around me.
I wish I could say that I have since been able to stop every injustice I observed, but you and I both know there are fights way above the social capital I hold. That slap, however, shaped the kind of lawyer I became. Personally, this has meant standing up to authority, even when there could be less than ideal consequences. Professionally, I create evidentiary trails and plan strategic challenges, knowing from experience that eventually one can only hope for the best, and prepare for the next fight.
At last, and at the very least, I became a lawyer.
