Trial Magazine

My journey to becoming an attorney did not come from being exposed to other lawyers or judges who looked like me, but from watching an Asian character play an attorney on television. Little did I know that when I walked into a courtroom that same lack of representation I experienced when going into law school would still be occurring today. More than 20 years later, as a minority, I can still walk into a courtroom and feel like I don’t belong.

When I was young, I was taught to sing The Lettermen music group’s version of the song “No Man is an Island” while going to school in the Philippines. This song originated from a 17th century poem and has been adapted by various artists such as Joan Baez, a social activist and musician who experienced racism and discrimination in the United States. She sang, “No man is an island, No man stands alone . . . We need one another, So I will defend.” These words remain just as poignant today while we continue to promote diversity in the legal profession as when Baez sang them in the 1960s during the Civil Rights Movement.

I first set foot on U.S. soil on March 7, 1985, as a little girl with a bowl cut and bangs, wearing a pink sweatsuit. Even at the age of seven, I realized the significance of the day and vowed never to forget it. My family left the Philippines in search of a better life, a life free from the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos and the human rights violations under his regime. In doing so, we left everyone we knew and everything we had behind.

Even though we left family in the Philippines, my parents embraced a new family of Filipino nurses who my mother worked with at the hospital and were also in the U.S. alone. To my brother and I, they quickly became our aunts and uncles, and over the years our family grew as they married and had children of their own.

Being part of this extended Filipino family gave me a sense of belonging and security that helped me overcome the hurt I felt when kids called me names like “Chang Wang,” used the racial slur “ching-chong,” or slanted their eyes to mock me. But as I grew older and left my Filipino community, my sense of belonging and security was shaken, especially as I entered the legal profession.

I was the first person in my family to go to law school, and I did not personally know any lawyers, much less Asian lawyers. The only Asian lawyer I knew at the time was the character Lucy Liu played in the show “Ally McBeal.” Looking back, I realize the importance of how representation in life and media shapes the decisions we make about our futures and how we feel about ourselves. Watching an Asian woman on television portray a strong female trial attorney—someone who looked like me—gave me hope that I could do the same thing. I participated in mock trial classes and competitions as a result. Unfortunately, when I started out in my career, there were very few Asian female trial attorneys or judges in the jurisdictions that I practiced in. And sadly, this is still the case today.

Not too long ago, I was sitting in the front row in court wearing a suit when a young sheriff trainee asked me to move to the back because the front was reserved for attorneys only. In that moment, I felt outrage and embarrassment at the same time. I did not feel the sense of belonging and security that I felt as a child in my Filipino community. Instead, I felt like an outsider in my own legal community. But no man is an island. This experience is not uncommon with minorities in the legal profession—I have read and heard similar stories. No man stands alone.

As minorities, we need to keep telling these stories to inspire awareness. We need to continue to defend and promote diversity and representation within the legal profession. We do so in the hope that, one day, we can walk into a courtroom and feel like we truly belong.

Elizabeth “Liz” Connell is an attorney at Connell Counsel in Baltimore, Md., and can be reached at elizabeth@connellcounsel.com.