Sasha Young, LSRJ Summer Intern (’16, Northwestern University School of Law)
On my first day of law school orientation I walked in nervous but confident. I was feeling myself a little, having signed my lease the week before, built a million IKEA pieces by myself, and expecting a big deposit of loan money to come in on the first day of the semester. I had everything planned out to the dollar, and I felt accomplished… until I saw all of the social events that were woven into orientation week. A slow panic started to set out over me, and I thought, “Isn’t everyone dead broke after moving? After all, loan disbursement happens next week for everyone, not just me.”
At the end of the first or second day, I went to my Critical Legal Reasoning orientation class, expecting that orientation meant doing introductions and ice-breakers. The professor broke us into groups to discuss the assignment she had sent out the day before. I figured no one had bought their books yet because, well, no one else had any money either. So imagine my surprise when nearly everyone in the class pulled out a sparkly, new $200 textbook.
After class, I told the professor that I’d have to wait until the semester started to get my books, and she told me that if I couldn’t get the money to buy the books, I should borrow it from the library where they also have computers I can use for free. This lady thinks I don’t have a computer? I didn’t come to class the next day. I remember telling my mom on the phone, “It’s like they think I’m the poor black kid who got bussed in.”
“You are,” she told me, “and you might as well get used to it.”
That was my first taste of what law school was going to be like. It is hard for everyone, but I was totally unprepared for the racially, socioeconomically, and culturally tense “learning” environment I was walking into this time last year. As the beginning of the next school year approaches, I am dreading more and more having to go back, but at least this time I’m better prepared:
I’m moving out of Whitelandia, a name I coined not only for the lack of pigment in the area, but for the beer pong and ugly sweater Christmas parties.
I blocked out “study time” in my calendar for salsa dancing. Because there’s no study supplement like Celia.
And I joined the executive boards of the Black Law Student Association and the Latino Law Student Association. It’s up to us to increase representation.
Next year, I will not justify my place that school to a single person. I will continue to fight the urge to respond with my LSAT score when someone comments that I’m “so lucky to be diverse in law school,” or that my call-back at that firm was “for a diversity position, huh?” during On-Campus Interviews next week.
Reproductive justice is about empowerment—empowering women to make the best decisions about our lives against racism and sexism and every other –ism that gets thrown at us every day. Thank god I spent the last 8 weeks listening to that over and over. I’m going to need all the armor I can get to brace the next school year.
The look I will have walking into class on September 2nd
2L—here goes nothing.