"No One Would Want Your Life . . ."

Cooperstown: Who's on First?

2010-08-14T11:37:00.042-04:00

I'm in Cooperstown for two weeks with my baseball playing 12-year old, participating in a summer ritual familiar to serious baseball parents throughout the country. Every summer, Cooperstown Dreamspark runs weekly tournaments at a facility so stunningly perfect in baseball terms that it lives up to its own advertising as the Little Major Leagues.

In most respects, my baseball adventure is identical to that of the 15,000 other baseball families who come here each year. We will win impossible games on walk off home runs by the small kid who has never hit one before, or we will be mercied, maybe even by teams we should have beaten. We will learn about baseball, and we will learn about character. We will take photographs and buy T-shirts. But in one way, my experience is different.

You see, my 12-year old ball player is a girl. And even at Cooperstown Dreamspark, where "dreams come true," they don't sell a little brother's T-shirt that says, "I have no life, my SISTER plays baseball."

At Cooperstown last week, there were 1400 boys competing, and 6 girls. In America, girls don't play baseball. Some of this is by choice; some of it is because they are refused the opportunity by schools which still prohibit girls from participating in America's pasttime.

In my particular corner of the law, I am still often the only woman. I am accustomed to walking into large conference rooms or courtrooms, and finding I am alone in a group of 40 men. I have never been uncomfortable. In truth, I rather like it. But I'm not 12 and still growing into my adult self, and while I may meet the occasional old-timer who is a little confused by me, no one, absolutely no one, ever tells me I can't do what I'm doing.

My daughter's world is tougher than mine, perhaps more like the women entering the legal world in the '60's and '70's, but the rules are the same. And they are, I think, a good reminder that while it may be easier now for women in law than it was thirty years ago, and while we may bend these rules more now than ever before, they still apply and we break them at our peril.

Here are some things my daughter--let's call her Ursa--has already had to learn.

To succeed as a girl in a boy's game:

It is not enough to be good. You have to be better. You may have to be the best.

Ursa is a very good player, but she is not the best. She is good enough to make every team she tries out for, but she is not so good that they HAVE to have her. Often, that alone makes all the difference. They will not change rules for her (e.g., at a school that does not allow girls to play), and she depends on having "enlightened" coaches who see only a ballplayer, not a ballplayer with a ponytail.

Walk like a boy. Talk like a boy.

As a female in a male world, it's important to fit in and not call attention to one's femaleness. In my world, that requires a certain comfort level with off-color jokes and sports banter.

For Ursa, it is the same. She loves her Cooperstown team because they accept her completely. The proof? They don't stop being crude 12-year old boys when she enters a room. And when Ursa takes the field (and no where else), she lopes along in the same rangy saunter of her team mates, shoulders slouched, head bobbing. If it weren't for the ponytail, you'd never know she is a girl.

I have met many girl ballplayers in the last few years. Off the field, some are girly, some are not, like any collection of adolescent girls. But on the field, they are all the same. They all walk like boys. Very young, they realized this was their ticket to admission into the clubhouse.

No short shorts.

Ursa is lucky enough to play very occasionally on a national all-girls exhibition team as well as her usual, local boys' teams. The girls' team competes against boys at big tournaments (including Cooperstown), and at such tournaments, her coach has only one piece of advice that Ursa never gets from her other coaches:

"No short shorts. We want to be remembered for our play on the field; not how we dressed off the field."

Women lawyers have much more freedom in dress now than when I entered the profession, but the fact remains. If you want to be sure you are taken seriously, be remembered for your play on the field, not the cut of your blouse.

____________

Each fall, I take Ursa to tryouts for her spring and summer teams. Some of those teams are highly competitive, and the tryouts are huge. Ursa is always the only girl. I cannot describe the feeling of 200 pairs of male eyes simultaneously pretending not to notice my girl. But I can relay the whispered comments: "Get a load of that pony tail!" "Oh, this is going to be rich."

Some how, Ursa finds the courage to close her ears, time and again, and she saunters to the practice mound, seemingly oblivious.

She looks in. She sets. She deals.

And the snickers are no more: "Hey, that girl can throw!"

That 12-year old is my hero. After all, you can learn a lot from a kid.

For girls' baseball opportunities and to learn more about girls' baseball, visit http://www.baseballforall.com/ and http://www.girlsplaybaseball.org/.

Poem: Tuesdays on Slate

2010-07-06T21:30:00.003-04:00

With my apologies to the Atlanta Review,

which is the true source for the best new poetry

(imho), but which, sadly, does not publish on line . . . .

Slate

It is Tuesday

and so even

before checking

my stock or

opening my email

to see what has

gone awry while

I was sleeping

or if there is

something newly

funny circum-

navigating

the worldwide web,

I go straight to

Slate to read the

weekly poem

because as

everyone

who attends to

poetry knows

Slate offers the best

new poetry,

except, of course,

for The New Yorker,

which also

publishes old

poetry if

the poet has

recently died

or there is a

new translation

from the Polish,

and I suddenly

wonder: when did

the minutiae

of everyday life

articulated

in triple-barreled

words become

the stuff of

poetry and

whatever happened

to love and loss

and when was it

exactly that

we decreed

that Truth should be

quotidian?

Thank you, Hillary

2010-06-30T22:45:00.000-04:00

I happen to love Hillary. Not so much her politics (though I frequently agree with them), but her endurance. I look at her, and I think: "Everything they said and did to you, Hillary, they would have said and done to me." Something about that independence, and lawyerliness (a certain sassy, witchy strength), combined in a not too, too unattractive package just seems to enrage some people, like a red flag to a bull. (Paradoxically, I almost like Sarah P., because she has escaped this fate, and is very beautiful and powerful, and that suggests to me that we are coming closer to the day when smart and hot are not mutually exclusive concepts - yes, I know the smart is in question, and that's where I say almost, because if she were definitely smart, I would like her even when I don't, if that makes sense to anyone other than me. Run on sentence, deep breath!)

But politics is not the point of my blog, and what I want to thank Hillary for is something we can all agree on. Thank you, Hillary, for the expression, "It takes a village." Those words crystallized something many of us knew intuitively, but had not yet organized intellectually in quite so clear a way.

I have a village. I have written about my "supportive spouse," and he lives in the village, but it has many other residents: a nanny, a house cleaner, a launderer, an errand doer, and a gardener. There are people who accept packages; people who deliver things (clothes, groceries, birthday presents); and people who teach things (flute, baseball). They are all part time (don't assume I have the staff of an English country house), but without them, we . . .
no . . . I, could not do what I do. Without them, I would not have the freedom to travel and try cases and work weekends.

I am grateful for that freedom, even as I recognize the inherent circularity of all: working so hard to make the money to pay the people who make it possible for me to work so hard.

Recently, I was speaking with the (female) general counsel of a Fortune 200 company, and she told me a story about the company's CEO, also a woman. The CEO has children about the same age as mine (who are 10 and 13), and the story is that Ms. CEO has authorized her staff to accept calls from her children, when she is in meetings and on conference calls, and the staff are charged with enforcing the rules: "No, Tommy, thirty minutes is the limit for Nintendo on a school night! You have to finish your math flash cards."

Listening to the story, I was shocked -- I have always rigidly maintained the professional/personal line with my (always female) secretaries -- but also, somehow, thrilled. Is that difference between me and a CEO? She knows how to ask for the help she needs to coordinate all her responsibilities? Or has she crossed an inexcusable line?

The former, I think. And yet, how could I ever ask my secretary to do that? Or expect my children to accept it?

What do you think? Is part of your village at the office?

(Way Too) Close to You

2010-06-08T23:00:00.001-04:00

Has anyone else noticed that, when sitting three-by-three in airline steerage, men are alotted both armrests, and women are alotted no more than one and often none? Or more specifically, men take both armrests as a right, and women do not take any, unless they are seated next to other women, in which case, each politely takes one?

"Bad Mommy!"

2010-05-27T08:00:00.001-04:00

Due to a confluence of circumstances, it recently fell on me to pick my children up from school--not the late "after care" pick-up, which I often do, but the mid-afternoon, when-classes-end pick-up normally reserved for nannies and mothers (mostly) who do not work full time. Planning my day in the morning, I realized I might have to drop off my afternoon conference call if it ran long, but I didn't think much more about it.

Inevitably, though, the conference call began to drag, and I started bargaining with myself over the drop-dead drop-off moment. How long could I manage to stay on the call and still not be late? Let's see, if it takes twenty-five minutes to get to school, no, say twenty (I'll drive fast), then I have to leave at, at, at . . .

When? Oh my god! I don't know. When do I have to be there?

I couldn't make that calculation because . . .

I don't know when my children get out of school!

My Fair Lady

2010-05-18T23:47:00.004-04:00

I was in London on business a few weeks ago. The first day was pre-planned "jet lag day": arrive early, sleep it off, work a little, and walk around in the noon day sun. Early to bed, and tomorrow, you're good as new. (Because I love London so much, I won't complain about the billable day lost in the process).

My hotel was near both Saville Row and the business district, so I took the opportunity of my stroll to look for London business women. I was hoping to confirm that the clothes I had packed would not be too far off base.

Here's what I found:

1) There are no London business women!

I wandered through bustling London streets, for two hours on a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, and I simply could not find any exemplars. At first I thought I was in the wrong place, or it was the wrong time, but there were businessmen everywhere in classic London business dress: chalk stripes, colorful shirts, cufflinks and flashy ties. Where were the women?

I cannot explain this, except possibly, as pure law of numbers. Are there still so many fewer women in the business world in London than in the United States?

Finally, I found a few. And I do mean a few, two maybe, in that whole long walk. I saw a small handful of others in meetings the next day, and I learned something else:

2) On my (admittedly small) sample size, London business women dress like U.S. business women dressed twenty years ago.

The women I saw and met were all wearing skirts or dresses. ALL of them! And (with the exception of some extraordinary shoes--we didn't wear those in the early '90s!), the skirts were the same stodgy, man-like skirt suits we abandoned in 1999.

Now, I have nothing against skirts and dresses. I often wear them, but increasingly, when I'm at my most lawyerly -- in court or for a pitch to a prospective client for a hundred million dollar case -- I wear trousers. Elegant, shapely, female trousers, but trousers, nonetheless. (I'm especially partial to Elie Tahari.)

Trousers are an evolution. When I started practicing law, they were not permitted. With the exception of a few (old and now deceased) judges who made clear their views on the abomination of women in trousers, the rule was unwritten. But it was universally followed. There were slightly more elegant versions and considerably less elegant versions, but the norm was skirt suits with nude stockings and a low square heel. Designers had not yet learned how to design suits that were female without being frilly, so they put women in male suits plus boxy skirt.

What was wrong with trousers? I don't know, really. There's no answer to that, except that there was something vaguely frightening about it, and not just to men. Somewhere, subconsciously, we were all afraid--men and women alike--that if the women did everything just like the men--if the women were not only lawyers but, gasp, even wore trousers--we would all lose our way.

London can be a confusing city. But the maps are excellent and omnipresent. If you keep your head, you can't get too terribly lost. I'm pretty sure in a few years, the women in trousers will be everywhere.

(But, please, keep the shoes). Ooo, la, la.

All the Young Men

2010-05-09T19:12:00.003-04:00

An email from one of my male colleagues made me smile the other day. He's a senior associate I work with a lot, and rely on even more. I had sent him some last minute revisions to a motion we were filing, and he emailed back: "Ok 2 call u later? @ the dr w/ R for his 2 year old check up."

Now, it wasn't the "u," or the poor grammar that made me smile (I'm just old enuf 2 think u should always use ur best English 4 ur boss). It was something much more enlightened that I am finding to be almost as common among his peers as text-speak: specifically, male forthrightness about family commitments.

Twenty years ago, when I was a young lawyer (how awful that sounds!), men didn't take their 2-year olds to well-baby visits, and women pretended they were going somewhere else: "Unfortunately, I'm out of the office at that time on another engagement." That state of affairs wasn't good for any of us. The men I know are all good fathers, and they would have liked to be at that appointment (and at the school plays and birthday parties and recitals), and the mothers didn't like going to those appointments alone. Even worse was the sense we shared that we had to hide what we were doing, like it was somehow shameful to be a parent.

Twenty years ago, we knew how to write a proper note to our boss.

Twenty years ago, we understood that the workplace is a formal setting.

But if excessive informality is the price we have to pay to let fathers be fathers and mothers be honest, I'll take it.

Reply to colleague?

"Ok. It can w8. Talk 2 u l8r."

Praying for Ash (a/k/a Travel Hell)

2010-04-25T16:37:00.000-04:00

Dateline: 30,000 ft over Charlotte (Thursday, April 22 – 11:45 p.m.)

Though I originally meant it tongue in cheek, today is one of those days embedded in one of those weeks in one of those months when, truly, no one would want my life.

It’s nearly midnight, and I’m trying to get home from Richmond, on my third plane after one cancellation, two re-routings, and additional avian indignities (including being ejected from a flight I got on standby after the true seat owner showed up). By the time I get home, I will have been up for 22 hours for a client who won’t let me bill travel time.

I could have stayed in Richmond, of course, but this way, I will wake up in my own bed and send my children off to school tomorrow. And that, my friends, makes all the difference.

Here’s a snapshot of the seventh circle of travel hell.

____________

Week One: Monday. Up at 4:30 am for the first flight out for two days in Chicago. No, not really Chicago, that would ok (sort of). What I mean by “Chicago,” is a strip mall/fast food/absolutely must-rent-a-car exurb of Chicago. Back Tuesday night, kids already in bed. Wednesday: office, no time for lunch. Thursday, marathon “day trip” to Richmond. Friday: kiss the kids, work from home.

Week Two: Monday, yes, your Honor, it would be my pleasure to spend the entire day travelling to and from Richmond (again!) for a five minute status conference. Tuesday, parent teacher conference (Teacher: “He would definitely benefit from more time with you. Do you think that could be arranged?”). Tuesday night, red eye to London. Arrive 6:45 a.m. GMT. Wednesday, quick shower, new clothes, try to look presentable despite night on plane and jet lag. Listen from somewhere deep inside exhaustion as my disembodied voice explains, “Yes, the Court is requiring you to produce those documents.” (Is that really me talking?) Client insists on long slow dinner. Drink too much and be too jolly. Thursday, Friday, London, London. Saturday, EU. More clients. More drinking. More jolly. Sunday, home.

Week Three: Monday, office. Tuesday, California. Wednesday, California. Thursday night, red eye to New York. Friday, may not get to shower. (Yikes!) Try-to-look presentable despite night on plane and continent lag. Listen to foggy disembodied voice. No time to drink. No time to be jolly. Please, US Air, please: home for dinner?

_____________

Every fall, there is a 2L who says to me, “You travel so much. That must be very exciting.” And you know, perhaps it is. After all, once you get to those places, there are such remarkable people there, and such interesting problems. But, oh my, the journey . . .

Working at Home

2010-04-20T22:33:00.002-04:00

These are the days I like best. Early spring, cool in the morning with a mist that clings to daffodils. Before settling down to work, with my papers and computer, sprawled across the bed, I always walk through the garden, admiring each new plant and the promise of harvests to come. I visit my chickens, and take a few minutes to savor them as they peck and fuss and hunt for food.

In an hour, I will be on a conference call with opposing counsel in a multi-hundred million dollar case. He's a New York lawyer in every sense--the good and the bad--and he cannot imagine the setting in which his call finds me. It makes me smile, the contrast between the obstructionist arrogance that is my life, and this bucolic setting that is also my life.

Working at home is one of the reasons I can do what I do. When I am not traveling, I work at home several days a week. Working at home saves me two hours in a car each day; it lets me pick my daughter up from baseball; it means I can help my son with his multiplication tables. Forget "part time," alternate work schedules and technology that allow remote work are critical to the long-term success of big firm lawyers who are also mothers. But how many firms allow it?

In our case, when I was diversity coordinator, we implemented an "alternative work policy," that allows many types of non-traditional work structures, including working from home. So far, though, most of the lawyers who really work from home--consistently, successfully and no questions asked--are like me, so senior, that we don't need policies, we just do it. I suppose that's the way it will always be: first, you have to prove yourself. And I suppose, too, that even the option and the capability are progress. After all, most of the lawyers in my firm who work from home are male, and having a "policy" that the men use too, well, that's the quickest route I know to long-term acceptance.

Casual Friday

2010-04-16T09:20:00.002-04:00

Ok, I am just going to say it: "I hate casual Fridays."

It is 8:54. It takes me an hour to drive to work. And here I still am in the closet, ankle deep in discarded outfits. What to wear, what to wear?

Casual Sunday is easy. I wear what I want. Those marvelous jeans I've loved so long that the belt loops are tearing off. A tight sexy skirt and boots. (No, wait, that's casual Saturday). PJs?

Those same jeans used to be the casual Friday standby. Dressed up with a black cashmere sweater and boots. Something expensive in my ears. Neat, comfortable, but together. Attractive, but not too sexy. It all said, she's comfortable enough to be really comfortable, but wow, I'll bet she's scary in court.

But now what?

Khakis? Too dowdy.

Short skirt and sweater? Umm, that's a little too short.

Jeans with ripped belt loops? What does she think this is - a rock concert?

The other jeans? Why was it again that I never wear them? Oh, yeah, right. Mom jeans!

Vintage Marimekko mini-dress? Well, maybe. Wait, no. That might reveal my personality. We NEVER do that at the office.

Can't I please just wear my lawyer costume?

Please . . .

The Whole Cloth: Threads of Affirmative Action

2010-04-04T18:49:00.003-04:00

Our law firm diversity web page includes "profiles" of diverse attorneys in the firm. Recently, the new diversity coordinator and marketing manager asked me if I would like to be profiled. Certainly, this offer was intended as a compliment and a way to honor my past contributions as diversity coordinator, but on reflection, I declined.

I say, "on reflection," to make clear that I did not decline out of continuing pique over the firm's general failure to compensate me appropriately for my contributions when I was the firm diversity coordinator. And I did not decline because I am opposed to the whole idea of the profiles. To the contrary, I like them. They were my idea, and they do celebrate and honor our diverse attorneys, both for their success and for their difference.

And for all those reasons, I felt I should accept, or as it felt to me, acquiesce. But the truth is, when it comes to my own career, I continue to be uncomfortable with being singled out or recognized as diverse. I continue to feel that the world is teaming with people just waiting to say, "Aha, you see. She is only a senior partner because they needed a woman."

It's silly. Really silly, on so many levels.

First, I have no doubt that my successes are real and earned, and I have no doubt that the people who know me, including my partners and my clients, know that. So why am I so insecure?

Second, there is no question I'm female. It's not a secret. Everyone who meets me figures that out in the first nanosecond. And I like being female. So who am I kidding?

Third, when I'm honest with myself, part of my success is certainly because I'm female. Not in the affirmative action, her-gender-is-her-identity, give-her-something-because-she's-diverse sense many of us fear, but because my femaleness is part of the essence of me, and it cannot be teased out. It is part of my success, and part of my failure, sometimes it is a cause of each, sometimes not, but always it is present.

And this knowledge, that our diversity characteristics are threads that provide structure or color to the fabric of ourselves is one of the best aspects of modern evolving diversity culture. In my case, there is a female aspect to the way I work, and collaborate, and network, and carry myself, and yes, even flirt, that enhances and is part of my professional success. I haven't succeeded BECAUSE I'm a woman, but being a woman is part of my success because it's part of me.

So what am I afraid of? I'm afraid of the past, and I can't quite manage to accept that it is past. I still worry that being recognized for being female overstates that one thread of who I am and by making it the whole cloth, undermines the fact of my success on the merits.

I'm afraid that if they pull out that one thread, the entire cloth unravels.

Am I wrong?

Poem: "If Only It Were True Dr. Williams"

2010-03-17T10:24:00.001-04:00

A lawyer's poem, for anyone who's ever been late to court:

so much depends

upon

a yellow

taxi

stalled in
traffic
beside the Triborough tolls

Not So Bad After All . . .

2010-03-05T20:02:00.000-05:00

Wow! Breaking news: the Saudi government is poised to allow Saudi women to argue cases in court and to set up their own law firms. This follows a move a year ago which permitted women to work for (male) law firms in a paralegal-type role.

On the one hand, you go girls! On the other hand, it certainlly puts my daily "struggles" in perspective.

And yet, I wonder. They will face so many challenges which I cannot even imagine, but perhaps not the challenge that defines my life: being female in a male law firm. Perhaps, by having their own firms, they will succeed more quickly and more definitely (at least in their permitted niche which is, of course, representing women in family law matters) than we have.

Here's a great quote from today's Saudi Gazette: "Most Saudi women lawyers are graduates of foreign universities, such as those in the United States, UK and Egypt, because no university in the Kingdom offers law courses for women. 'Based on their educational background, many Saudi women lawyers are good and we therefore expect a good performance from them,' Audhali said."

To which I say, "Amen."

Some more links for the curious:

Times of India article
Arabian Business article
LA Times blog
International Law Society article from 2009 re women in paralegal roles
Saudi Gazette article from 2009 re women in paralegal roles

Definition of "Supportive Spouse"

2010-02-27T13:07:00.001-05:00

I recently had lunch with a young woman, just entering the profession, who wanted my advice on being-a-woman-in-the-law. I told some war stories, and we talked about clothes, and women judging women, and I gave her my usual, it-is-hard-but-it-is-possible-and-the-key-is-to-have-a-supportive-spouse (or partner or whatever) advice, and then suddenly, for the first time in the many years I have been giving this spiel, I suddenly realized what a "supportive spouse" is. Eureka!

A supportive spouse is NOT someone who thinks: "Of course, you like your job and you went to law school all those years and it's just as impotant as what I do." Nor is being a supportive spouse about the money (who doesn't need two salaries these days?). A supportive spouse is someone who simply cannot imagine you being or doing anything else: someone for whom your being a lawyer is so bound up in who and what you are, that for him (or her, I suppose, but this feels like a him conversation), just as for you, there aren't any options and you haven't made a "choice" to do this, it just is, and because it is, we have to work together to make it work.

Counting the Types - Part II

2010-02-22T08:49:00.004-05:00

The great irony of diversity initiatives is that they revolve around the counting of the types. How many women, men, African-Americans, out lesbians, Latinas? And because it is one thing we can chart--the easy metric--it threatens to swamp all other considerations. The numbers do matter--I cannot deny that--because almost all law firms large enough to have "diversity coordinator" also have a legacy of being controlled by straight, white, males, and the purpose of the diversity initiative is to change that long time legacy.

In my view, though, the key to the last sentence is "time." A powerful diversity initiative involves cultural change (more on the features of a good diversity initiative some other time). A powerful diversity initiative does NOT entail making hiring decisions that tear apart the fabric of the firm: specifically changing to a lateral-based model of partner-hiring, rather than growing ones own partners

A very significant majority of the partners and senior partners at my firm have been with us since they were young lawyers, even summer associates. It is a part of our culture--a really, really good part of our culture--that lawyers who join our firm, make it their professional home. Firms where lawyers stay for an entire career are endangered species, but we are one of the few. We have thirty and forty year partners who were summer associates together. I have been with the firm almost twenty years--straight from a federal clerkship--and am both a senior "insider" and, in some groups, a "newbie." We are partners in the very old school sense: friends and comrades.

While I would like to change some things about my firm's culture to make it easier for women and minorities to succeed, that partners-in-arms quality is what makes us extraordinary, as lawyers and as a business. As a practical matter, that culture is achieved by hiring young. When we hire a summer associate or first year, we see a future partner. With only rare exceptions, our partners are not laterals, they come up through the ranks.

Of course, that means that the diversity initiative will take time to "filter up." In our case as a result of a strong diversity program, our recent hires--young laterals and summer associates--reflect the diversity of the schools we visit and the recruits we seek. At the more junior levels, our associate population significantly exceeds the norms of other firms for numbers of women and minorities.

That all sounds good, right? So why am I frustrated? I'm frustrated because many of our well-meaning clients require us to fill out annual diversity surveys, which often determine whether we can continue to receive assignments from these large corporations. And the surveys are uniformly myopic, whether in form or in implementation. They care about only one thing: numbers. In my view, that focus guarantees failure in the long run, because hiring is less than half of the diversity picture; retention is the rest. And retention is about who you are and how you're making sure that the diverse lawyers you hire will stay. Retention is about firm culture.

Most of the forms we receive are nothing more than that: "Dear Law Firm Administrator: Please report how many male partners, female partners, Hispanic partners, female associates . . . ." Others are more sophisticated (some of my partners say "intrusive"): "How much money did your law firm contribute to pipeline programs this year?" "What programs do you have in place to encourage openly gay or lesbian associates?" "How does your diversity initiative influence your recruiting?" [These are not real quotes.]

But at the end of the day, it's only the numbers that matter. Even with the few companies who ask the right (viz., intrusive) questions, we are told. "Ok fine, you're doing all the right things, but we will not be able to continue to retain you because you have too many white male partners. The numbers have to be different before next year's survey." The implicit message is either, "Fire those guys!" (That can't be what we're meant to do . . .) Or "Run out and hire a bunch of minority and female laterals you don't know so that you can report them next year. Sure, you'll have lots of turn over and instability, but at least you'll have the numbers for next year's boxes."

We are not told: "Wow, what innovative programs (true)! What a tremendous job you are doing diversifying your associate ranks. Look at all those women poised to make partner in the next few years. Stay the course!"

In short, the people who most want the change are the ones who are now standing in its way, incentivizing firms to doctor their numbers and penalizing the firms working toward long term, real cultural change.

Mean Girls

2010-01-27T09:01:00.003-05:00

Earlier this week, a teenager in a town not too far from here hanged herself after six months of bullying and cyber-tormenting by the high school cool girls. Even after her death, the gloating continued on Facebook. Her tragedy and the arrogant, narcissistic cruelty of the tormentors has captured local attention and fills the radio talk shows.

Yesterday, I heard a talk show caller (male) comment that "it wasn't surprising," because "women are always that way." He went on to relate a story of a friend who was a lawyer at a large downtown law firm: "My friend says the women senior partners terrorize the junior women partners. It's brutal."

I will be the first to agree that society of women operates on different rules than the society of men, and that women (like men) can be thoughtless and even cruel. I claim no special "kindness" for my sex. The queen bee phenomenon exists (though it is usually a single hard-bitten survivor), but truly, I am shocked by that caller's account of a group of senior women ganging up against the younger ones. Perhaps his tale is accurate, I cannot say because I do not know the name of the firm, but I doubt it.

I have spent twenty years in large law firm settings, and by and large, the women have looked out for each other. Within firms, the more senior women - especially we few senior partners - generally do our best to mentor the young ones: we de-brief them after sexist encounters, give them a "heads up" about particularly difficult clients or opposing counsel, and share strategies for navigating firm hierarchies.

The women's network in the larger legal community is also strong. We may not be chummy (after all, we are often opposing each other in court), but within our jurisdiction or practice area, we few, senior women keep tabs on each other. We compare experiences and women's "war stories," even about our own firms, and in a pinch, when the issue is a woman's issue, and not a case, we back each other up. I have seen it and experienced it again and again.

In the large dollar, complex lawsuits that are my specialty, there are rarely more than two or three senior women among the many lawyers and law firms involved. When the deposition breaks, or the judge dismisses the jury, we all head to the same place, and we are alone there for days and hours and weeks over the course of a complex matter. Being generally adverse, we can't talk about the case, and most of us don't talk football. So what do we do? Well, we're girls, so we start with the easy stuff, "Wow, I love your shoes!" And then, we dish: "Did you hear that Smith & Smith finally made a woman senior partner? I didn't think they'd ever do that . . ." Before long, it's personal: "How good is your firm about part time?"

So, mean girls be damned, but don't damn us all: the sisterhood of the Ladies Room is strong.

Unequal Pay

2010-01-17T23:41:00.002-05:00

I began this blog, in part, to talk about my life as the chief diversity officer of a mid-sized (70-100 lawyer, multi-city) law firm. As of December 31, 2009, I resigned from this post. I will keep writing all the same. With or without the "badge," my passion for the problem will not wane. After all, this is my life.

Why did I resign? Interestingly, though it was an unwelcome shock to my firm's governing body, and though I have since discussed transitional issues with each of its members, not a single leader of my law firm asked me that question.

Perhaps they know, and knowing me, they know that if they ask, I will tell them, and the one thing they do not want to know, is the answer to the question, why did I suddenly quit.

But the answer is not a secret: I resigned because I suddenly realized that the job had become my own personal glass ceiling. My firm had asked me to take on the role because it knew I had the passion, commitment and talent to imagine and direct a cutting edge diversity initiative. Somewhat reluctantly (because I suspected this day might come) I did what I was asked (women so often do - ironically, we are the archetypical "good soldiers"), and I succeeded beyond my own expectations. I even succeeded, I think, beyond the firm's.

But in the end, the firm was unwilling to value my work. Sure, they patted me on the back, and praised me, and said, "wow, this is incredible." But in a law firm, that's not "value," that's spin. Law firms know only one way to value their partners' contributions: money. If it matters, you'll see it in your pay check at the end of the year. It's crass, but it's unambiguous.

As I've learned, a CDO has two options: wear the badge, schedule monthly committee meetings, and continue to bill the same hours as in the past; or leap into the role, like a case assignment -- or like the critically important business development project it is -- and give it the time it needs and deserves. I'm not much into "badges," so I took the second course.

It's the classic problem. Unequal pay for equal work. Women and minorities are typically the people tasked to lead the diversity program. Everyone agrees that program is a core "business development" program, but at the end of the year, when it comes time to divide the profits, golf counts, diversity doesn't.

Question: When will the position be properly paid?

Answer: When it's filled by a straight, white male.

P.S. My replacement is female, and she too, will be expected somehow to run one of the firm's most significant and far-reaching programs, innovating all the while, without missing more than a handful of billable hours. She's a marvelous woman and an incredibly hard worker. If anyone can do it, she can.

God speed!

The Laws of Men and Women in the Workplace: Part III

2010-01-11T08:28:00.002-05:00

And last, but not least, the rules of social engagement:

10. Make sure to include women lawyers in social invitations (especially when on the road: drinks, dinner, etc.) to the same extent that you would/do their male counterparts. And generally, think of them as lawyers and colleagues, not as women. (Naturally, this rule does not extend to inappropriate jokes, venues, etc.. There, the rule is, if you wouldn't do it with a woman present, don't do it in business at all. Corollary: Don't apologize if you swear in front of a woman, unless you would apologize to a man in the same circumstances. This is an outdated concept that assumes women are not fit for the rugged business world.)

The work/social boundary is a particularly tricky issue because business and social rules are in conflict and there is no consensus on how to interleave them. For example, it is a business norm for the junior person to hold the door/carry the bags for the senior person, and it is a social norm for the man to do these same things for the woman. Because there is no consensus on how to handle these matters, no matter what you do, someone will consider you rude or be offended. You may find it easiest to navigate these rules differently with different women. When in doubt, however (or if the navigating gets too hard), err on the side of business rules in a business setting. If you give offense, at least it will be for rudeness, not for sexism or perceived discrimination.
As for greetings, stick with shaking hands unless you know the woman quite well and know she is comfortable with a kiss-on-the-cheek/hug approach. Better to be too cold than too familiar when it's work.

I have spent years struggling with these issues and norms. I used to bristle every time a man I worked for/with did something like open a car door for me or offer to carry my suitcase. Now that I'm more self-confident and know my partners and friends better, I find I have different rules for different people. With some, I will allow it because I know it is intended as a courtesy and is not meant to diminish me, but with people I do not know so well, I still insist on business, not social rules when I am working.

The Laws of Men and Women in the Workplace - Part II

2009-12-20T18:31:00.002-05:00

More observations. For numbers 1 - 3 1/2, see my prior post: The Laws of Men and Women in the Workplace - Part I

4. Respect people's schedules and non-work lives. Plan to accomplish work, whenever possible, during relatively normal business hours. All of us in this line of work understand that we will have to work a lot of nights and weekends, that we have to be available at odd hours, and that we will have to miss family time, vacations, and other personal commitments from time to time. That's part of our reality. But there are times when it is unavoidably necessary, and times when its simply a matter of one person's scheduling priorities being deemed more valuable than another's. Save the crazy hours for when it is truly necessary, based on extreme deadlines and court/client-imposed obligations, not based on poor planning of other lawyers whose nights and weekends are free. This is important to everyone-not just women-but women are often particularly sensitive about commenting on it because they are concerned (justly) that complaints will be perceived as whining or as evidence that women are not able to survive in our workplace.

Consider the following examples:

How many times have you heard someone embrace both of the following parallel but inconsistent thoughts: (a) "Let's not schedule the meetings for Thursday afternoons because Joe is coaching his son's soccer team this fall. He's sgreat with the kids." And (b) "Jane couldn't make it. I think her daughter has a ballet recital or something. Who knows? Let's just go ahead without her."
How many times has someone convened a meeting at 4:30, rather than 3:30, simply because they lost track of time and had to go to the gym at lunch, without considering that day-care may have a 5:30 pick-up deadline?

One way to make clear to everyone that family and vacations and personal commitments are important is to be open about one's own. For example, don't just say, "I'll be out of pocket that day" (because you're embarrassed or worry you'll be judged for what you're going to be doing). Say, "I'm sorry. We can't do it Wednesday unless absolutely necessary because I promised my daughter I'd help her move." Be open about your other commitments. By doing so, you validate everyone else's complicated life and make it possible for us all to navigate each other's priorities more effectively.

5. Keep in mind that women tend to carry around huge loads of guilt. When we work full time, it is perceived as selfish and a "choice" we have made to the detriment of our children, lovers, etc.. We are constantly battling against that. We feel that we are failing everyone by not having enough time for anyone. For many women, if that burden becomes too great, work will be the first thing we will give up because that is the "correct" societal choice to make and we will be praised for it. As a result, it's important not to add to the guilt load of women associates.

6. Don't make choices for a woman based on what you think she would want. Let her make them herself. For example, don't assume that someone will not want to work on a particular matter because it involves a lot of travel. If you want her to work on it, ask her. Give her the right to make that decision herself.

7. Do not assume that women will get along well with other women simply because we are all, well, women. Sometimes we like each other and sometimes we're incredibly hard on and competitive with each other. Women often get along better with men, particularly women who have succeeded in male institutions.

The Laws of Men and Women in the Workplace: Part I

2009-12-13T13:14:00.001-05:00

Some time ago, one of my male partners (back then, they were all male but one) asked me for some thoughts on working with female lawyers and how it may be different from working with other men.

Of course, I cannot speak for all women (or any men) or all situations. Just like men, we are more different than we are similar. But risking the sweeping generalization, I identified some loose commonalities and rules. I think they made sense to him. I know they have made sense to a few other women I have shared them with.

I would love to know from anyone who reads this whether they resonate with others, have application beyond law and beyond the male/female divide, and what else should be added.

Here are the first four observations, with more to follow later:

   1. Women tend to need more positive reinforcement and feedback than men. Women want to be thanked and praised, and silence is often taken as proof of failure, rather than proof that there is nothing worth commenting on. This doesn't require much. Just remember to say, "nice job," or "that was very helpful, thank you," and to pass along compliments from others, especially clients. The payback in loyalty and job enthusiasm can be huge. This is very closely related to point 5, to follow later.

   2. Women tend to be more quiet about their accomplishments than men, expecting that their successes will be "noticed." Women frequently will under- rather than overstate their role. This reticence causes two problems. First, it means that women's accomplishments are often overlooked. For example, when it comes to self-evaluations, there is a perception that everyone will blow his own horn and that self-reported achievements must be "taken with a grain of salt." Often, with women, the opposite is true and far from overstating, a woman is downplaying her role in a success. (This is all the more true if there are other women working on a matter who may hear what is said. The intra-woman social dynamic is complicated, and we are very hard on each other when the rules are broken.) Second, when a woman's achievements are not spontaneously "noticed," she is likely to fret about being unappreciated, which can be very destructive.

   3. This is related to 2 Women often will not ask for what they want, such as, to work on a particular case. If they do ask, they are likely to do it obliquely, hinting around without asking outright. It means you have to listen more carefully and be more proactive in offering opportunities. And like 2, there is lots of potential for hurt feelings if women feel they are "passed over" for something they wanted. (And yes, I do think women need to be taught to do these things (say what they want, comment on their own accomplishments, etc.), but only up to a point. It takes time to learn these skills; it requires someone to teach them; and even when a woman does develop these skills, she will rarely be as aggressive and clear as man. There has to be a meeting in a middle. Women have to adapt themselves to male-defined institutions, but men who want to work with women, have to adapt their institutions, too. Neither way of being is inherently superior.)

   3-1/2. There is a perverse corollary to 3, which is that women will often volunteer for thankless tasks if it seems like they need doing and otherwise will not be accomplished. Watch out to make sure young female associates are not agreeing to do too much non-billable stuff that is not going to be particularly valuable for them professionally, particularly house-keeping type stuff (such as, selecting and managing holiday cards to clients, serving on the art selection committee, etc.). If they are doing these things, make sure it is because of a genuine interest and do not allow any one person to do much of it. If it is important to the firm, make sure there are male associates doing similar tasks.

And Would-Be Poet

2009-12-07T21:39:00.002-05:00

Sometimes I think all lawyers fancy themselves writers. In honor of this weekend's lovely snowfall, here is proof I am not unique:

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Snow

Nothing sounds in the silence

Of the woods

Except each step

Balancing on the surface ice

Before breaking through

To snow.

ii.

Some creatures prefer the snow.

I have seen them in the woods:

The owl and wolf,

Garbed in white,

Long after the butterflies

Have flown for Mexico.

iii.

In the early days

Suffused with joy at the first snow and all else that was

New and clean, she lay down before him

And swept an angel in the drifts.

iv.

When the snow reaches

Nearly to your knees

You will know the leeks

Are strong and sweet.

Wrap yourself in white, if you will,

But you must know

Pristine and fragile as the virgin snow,

It cannot survive your touch.

vi.

Build her a house on the plain:

Build it square and strong.

Build it to withstand the snows.

vii.

A man with a woman

Is one.

A woman and the snow

Are one.

viii.

No living thing has touched

The snows on the far slope

Not even a blackbird.

ix.

At its edges, the field is brown.

But some snow remains

Not just as patches

In the center of the field

But also piled against the woodpile,

Too deep to fire the hearth.

Do you see? She is

Like a single flake of snow

Dissolving to droplets on a glove,

Then darkening the spot just

Long enough to be remarked upon

Before disappearing.

xi.

They opposed her wish to move North,

Saying, “At the solstice the sun will never rise.”

They could not understand

It, seems, that the moon

Reflected on the snow shines

More brilliantly than the stars.

xii.

I find I have no words

That will describe for you

The azure cellophane blues of the Yucatan sea.

They say the Eskimos have thirty-seven words for snow.

How many words for white?

xiii.

I will melt

With the snow silently

Into Spring.

On Glass Ceilings

2009-11-23T21:21:00.003-05:00

http://www.theglasshammer.com/news/2009/11/17/do-women-create-their-own-glass-ceilings/

Maybe. Or, perhaps, it's just that the women, some of whom are highly perceptive, correctly see who gets the gold stars and who is expected to be good and do what they're told and wait. After a while, you know, they get tired, and they give up.

Erwin Griswold was the Dean of Harvard Law School (my alma mater) when women were first admitted: in 1950. During my 3L year, Dean Griswold returned to be feted as a hero of women's rights. I was a 3L and editor-in-chief of one of the law reviews. That made me a "woman leader" on campus and so, I was invited to meet with him.

Dean Griswold was very proud of himself on this august occasion. He told us selected few "women leaders" how, as a result of WWII and the important work that women did filling in for men who were fighting on the front, society widely perceived that women's roles had changed. As Dean Griswold explained, he precociously understood that, at long last, the time had come for Ivy League women lawyers (never mind that Yale had accepted women since 1919).

Given that realization "during the war," I asked why it had taken until 1950 for the first women to be admitted. A softball! Dean Griswold knew the answer to that one. Naturally, they couldn't admit women right away in 1945. That would have been terribly unfair to our boys, to have to give up their slots to women! They had had to wait three, four, even five years for this chance. (How many decades had the women been waiting?) So, Dean Griswold did the right thing, the fair thing, and made the decision to defer women until 1950 so that even more boys could go to law school. He was very self-righteous about that, and couldn't see any irony at all.

Things like that used to shock me. But I've grown up a lot since then. And yet, are there colleagues of mine who, perhaps, still cannot see the irony?

We have come far. And yet, there are still miles to go before we sleep.

Counting the Types - Part I

2009-11-21T21:12:00.006-05:00

As a Diversity Coordinator, this resonated. More on the counting of the types later.

http://kenliu.name/simplicitas/2009/10/27/law-firm-demographics-or-why-john-grisham-has-no-idea-what-hes-talking-about/

Winning and Losing

2009-11-09T21:39:00.001-05:00

We won a big case today, the culmination of my last eight years. I'm grinning from ear to ear. And yet, have you ever noticed that the wins are never as wonderful as the losses are terrible? Why is that? And is that the reason that we keep going? Because pure joy is so elusive?

Courtesy

2009-11-04T21:39:00.009-05:00

I'm recently back from a week in New Orleans on business. Each time I am in the deep South, I re-remember that it is still a different world, particularly when it comes to men and women.

In the South, the rules remain clear. Gentlemen open doors for women, and women? Women walk right through those open doors. They smile slightly, and say, "Thank you."

In the North, women like me tend to bristle over such things. We toss our heads at the courtesy, an annoyed moue broadcasting the thought, "I am no different from you, why hold the door for me?" We decline the offer: "No, really, that's ok. Please go ahead." The "please" is emphasized. Most Northern men (that forty-odd percent who still hold doors for women), shrug and do as they're told. But others - maybe their mothers were Southern, or more likely, their fathers - continue to insist. And the woman stands her ground, and the man keeps insisting, and everyone gets cold waiting for someone, anyone!, to walk through that door. Someone has to give in, and that's how it feels, like a surrender.

A true gentleman does not insist on forcing his courtesy on a woman. But any polite person - female or not - knows when to accept a courtesy with a smile without overthinking the underlying intent.

I'm still learning this lesson. As a young lawyer, I always stood my ground. "No, no, I can carry that 75 lb bag up four flights of court house stairs (in heels). Don't you dare try to help me." But somewhere along the way, I came to understand, all those gentlemen were my friends, and they were trying to help me. And what could possibly be wrong with that? And what could possibly be wrong with having the confidence in myself to understand that I am not lessened by accepting help or courtesy.

It's all in the intent. And truly, it's almost always good. So when in Rome, or New Orleans, walk through that door already!

Time

2009-10-22T21:20:00.004-04:00

I'm paid - and to a significant extent, evaluated - by the minute. Or to be more precise, by the six-minute increment. At work, I account for my time in tenths of hours. Typically, people who do the type of work I do are expected to write up and "bill" at least 1850-2000 hours per year. Considerably more to rank near the top in billings. On the surface, that doesn't sound like so much. Over fifty weeks (allowing two weeks vacation), 2000 hours equates to forty hours per week, or eight hours per business day.

In practice, however, it's far more. Billable hours are the time submitted on a bill to a client, and it is a rare day when eight hours in the office nets even seven hours of billable time. Ethical lawyers don't bill for lunch, chit-chatting with their secretary, trips to the rest room, talking with their daughter's school on the phone, sending out the bills and paying vendors, writing articles for publication, managing the office, training younger lawyers, business development, or being diversity coordinator. Yet most of these activities must take place for the business to function, and all of them have to take place for life to function. In short, to bill eight hours takes at least ten in the office, maybe eleven or twelve.

Viewed from that perspective, working into the night and many weekends is the norm for most lawyers.

Ironically, the hardest time to bill is often the most harried. There are blocks of time--writing a lengthy court submission, trying a case--that easily translate to long hours. But those are the fun times for a lawyer. The hard days are the days when five different cases each have small crises. There are umpteen phone calls to clients and 238 separate emails to read and delete in between harried hallway conferences about the best strategy for responding to the newest demand.

You look up and it is eight o-clock. You've been glued to the phone and computer screen for twelve hours, and without realizing it, you skipped lunch. You'll be late home for dinner; your spouse will be angry and the children too exhausted to tell you about their days. But when you sit down to account for those hard-worked, hard-earned hours, they just don't add up.

Six minutes for this email exchange; twelve minutes for that call; half an hour here. Six maybe seven hours all told if you search that harried memory. You moved so fast and did so much the only thing you had no time to do was count the time. Where ever did it go?

Today was one of those days.

With a Little Help from My Friends

2009-10-18T18:32:00.003-04:00

From my first post, you might draw the wrong conclusion about my husband. His reaction to my becoming Diversity Coordinator was so remarkable to me because, usually, he is very supportive.

They say you need a supportive spouse to do what I do, and it's true. Of course, it's also an overstatement--it is possible to be both a single mother and a professional, but that's a whole different level of hard. Having a supportive spouse -- someone who shares the cooking and the child shuttling and coordinates work travel schedules with you -- certainly makes a tremendous difference.

My husband does do and share all of those things, and he deserves lots of credit. But why don't I deserve a lot of credit too? The "supportive spouse" conversation is universally one-directional. It is always the female professional who is saying, "I could not do it without the support. I am so lucky to have a husband who . . . . " When my male colleagues travel on business or take a client out for dinner, no one leans across the table and asks who is with the kids, following up with, "You know, you are so fortunate that your wife helps out so much around the house." And the oddest thing is, nearly twenty years as a lawyer and thirteen as a mother, and this disparity has only just occurred to me. Now, that's ingrained!

"No One Would Want Your Life" - About my blog

2009-10-04T20:01:00.005-04:00

I am a mother. I am also a senior partner in a national litigation law firm.

Several years ago, the law firm asked me to become its Diversity Coordinator. I had often spoken my mind about the scarcity of women in my world (at the time, 2 of our approximately 40 partners were female), but still, it was not a position I coveted. Diversity Coordinator is an important job, and a hard one, and the skills required to do it well are not necessarily the same skills that make an effective litigator.

Before accepting the post, I asked a lot of questions, and I did some hand-wringing, and I asked my closest confidants for advice. Most were in favor. But the deciding vote was my husband's. He was adamant that I should not do it, and he offered his two most persuasive arguments:

(1) "It's pointless: you will never be able to change anything."

(2) "And anyway, NO ONE WOULD WANT YOUR LIFE."

Well, I still think I can do anything if I just try hard enough. And it so happens that I like my life. It has its moments, of course, and there are days - lots of them - when I think, "I just can't do this any more!!!," - but most of the time, it's pretty good. My work is engaging and exciting; my children are marvelous (most of the time), and too, there are diversions. I love my chickens, and growing food, reading, writing poetry and skiing. I watch my children play baseball; I play my guitar; I bake bread; I waste countless hours on the internet. Occasionally, I even talk to my friends.

So, I had to become Diversity Coordinator, because it may be hectic, but if I can do it, anyone can. I haven't changed the world yet, but we're making progress. And somehow, the rest of life goes on.

This blog, about the ups and downs of one not-so-bad, cobbled together existence, is for everyone who is trying to "have it all," and if not quite getting "all," is managing to find a way to stitch a decent quilt from the pieces of all.