31.07.20// Diary of a (BAME, femxle) lawyer.
Editor’s Note:
This week’s spotlight was chosen for its powerful insight into what it is like to be a young BAME femxle lawyer in the UK. Hannah’s bravery in sharing her personal experiences of racism and prejudice in her every day corporate environment is so important because it opens up the discussion about how womxn, and particularly womxn of colour, are treated in the world of business. This is essential reading for anyone interested in how entrenched conscious (and unconscious) bias manifests itself in professional womxn’s day-to-day lives!
By Hannah Costley
31 July 2020
I can’t remember the moment I decided I wanted to be a lawyer, I just know it is something I have always wanted to be. After watching Tom Cruise obliterate Jack Nicholson through cross examination in A Few Good Men and Elle Woods exonerate her client in Legally Blonde, I knew that I wanted to be in a court room and would do everything in my power to get there. I just didn’t know that, when I finally did, my presence would sometimes be questioned.
My legal career began at the University of Maastricht where I studied European Law and, after three years of blood, sweat, tears (and copious amounts of alcohol), I made my way to London to do my Graduate Diploma in Law and Legal Practice Course. I had left the UK when I was 5 and so it felt strange to be returning ‘home’ after 16 years abroad and I was anxious to see how I fit in to a country that, despite being my birthplace, was foreign to me. Although I had already lived in 7 countries and moving was not new to me, I was nervous about living in the UK again, as my passport was the only real connection I had to the country. Being mixed race, my appearance had allowed me to blend in with the local people of each country I had the privilege of living in and I never felt like a stranger despite my foreign status; but what did a British person look like? My dad is Scottish and I was all too familiar with the question, “are you adopted?”, or the puzzled looks on people’s faces as they tried to figure out if this was the common stereotype of the older White man with the young Asian wife. In an International School my accent was considered to be British but, whenever I visited England, I would be asked where I was from. Was I going to fit in? London was the perfect place for me to transition; a city so diverse and home to a number of my friends from high school. My worries quickly dissipated and I settled into life in the UK with ease. In the last few months of the Legal Practice Course, I did some work experience in Manchester and fell in love with the city. I applied for a job as a paralegal in family law at a firm in Bolton and the rest was history, Manchester was now home.
After living in Manchester for 6 months I was (finally!) offered a training contract at a criminal defence firm and this is when the real fun began. Criminal defence, although not the most lucrative area of law, is exciting and, in the brilliant words of one of my favourite barristers, is “all about the sex, drugs and rock & roll.” On the second day of my training contract I shadowed a solicitor at a police station interview and, when we arrived, she went in with the Officer to receive disclosure while I waited for our client at the front desk. A young man walked in and he was on the phone. “Is she an Asian girl?”, I heard him say, and for a split second I looked around the station before realising he was speaking about me. However strange it may seem, up until this moment I had never been described as Asian before. Sure, I am aware that being half-Scottish, half-Sri Lankan, I am Asian-passing, but this was the first time I had ever heard someone describe me as solely ‘Asian’. It felt weird; the air of incredulity in his voice, as though he didn’t quite believe that an Asian woman could be his solicitor, hurt. Little did I know that this encounter was going to be one of many.
“And who are you? The interpreter?” asked the Inspector as she walked into the interview room I was sat in with my client. She was there to do a routine welfare check and needed to clarify my role for the paperwork. “Not being funny, Miss, but what language would she be here to interpret? The custody record in your hand says I’m White British, is it because she’s brown?” I smiled a thank you to my client, grateful that he had stated the obvious so I didn’t have to.
“We told you over the phone that only one family member is allowed to act as the appropriate adult”, said the police officer, as I stood outside of the police station at 2am with my Pakistani youth client’s sister. I was wearing a dress with heels and she was wearing jeans and a hoodie; I had told the custody sergeant that both solicitor and sister had arrived and yet here I was being mistaken for a member of my client’s family. “I’m his solicitor”, I replied, and the officer’s eyebrows disappeared under his fringe. “I did think it was strange that one of you was all dressed up”, he responded, followed by a nervous laugh. Or maybe you just can’t wrap your head around the idea that a young, brown, femxle could possibly be a legal representative, I thought.
“You’re my interpreter, aren’t you?”, stated the criminal defence solicitor at the Magistrates’ Court. I was sitting outside Court Room 1 in a suit, laptop on my knees and client files next to me. Interpreters, for the most part, are usually dressed casually and have a CAPITA lanyard around their neck- I couldn’t have looked further from an interpreter. “Why do you say that?”, I asked him. The gentleman was clearly embarrassed as he quickly realised I was his peer and walked away without answering my question. 24% of criminal defence lawyers in the UK are Asian and 49% of lawyers in the UK are female; why is this kind of interaction now part and parcel of my life as a solicitor?
“Not another fucking foreign bird.” The words echoed through the corridor of the police station, as I waited for my client who had been arrested for a racially aggravated assault. I braced myself because I already knew this man was racist (and Islamaphobic) after watching CCTV of him shout, “go back to your fucking country”, and then throw a fire extinguisher at a receptionist wearing a hijab. As he walked into the room I looked up at him and asked, “what did you just say?”, curious to see if he would say it to my face. “Nothing”, he said. I repeated my question. “Well, I’m not being funny but what’s with all the brown people?”. I saw red. I had word vomit and I just kept on going. “Hmmmm you’re quite feisty. Maybe it’ll look good for me to have a brown girl represent me for this offence.” I stood up. “There’s no way in hell I’m representing you, Mr X, good luck.” I walked out. This whole exchange took place in front of police officers; he had no shame or fear of repercussion for his actions. For a few days I questioned my career choice- I had attended a police station in the middle of a pandemic only to be the recipient of racial abuse and for what? £70?
These incidents are only a fraction of what I have endured. I am acutely aware that when I enter a courtroom I will be either the sole, or one of few, brown femxle solicitors present; that, coupled with being only 26 years old, leads most people to assume that I am anyone but a legal advocate. My question, “What does a British person look like?”, has now morphed into, “What does a British lawyer look like?”, and I know that my appearance does not fit the standard description. I had spent so much time worrying that the country I held nationality for wouldn’t accept me, that I was completely unprepared for the prejudice I would experience in my chosen profession. After 7 years of studying and training, I never expected my skin colour to be an obstacle in my ability to be recognised as a solicitor. How naive. My experiences are not unique. I am not the first ‘BAME’ lawyer to face these micro-aggressions and I will not be the last. My experiences may even seem trivial compared to those of others and I should consider myself lucky that this is the extent of racism that I am subjected to, and I do. These encounters do not make me love my job any less, but it would be a lot easier to channel my inner Elle Woods without them.