My Not-So-Linear Journey To Law Firm Ownership

Ed. note: Please welcome Iffy Ibekwe to the pages of Above the Law. She will be writing about her experiences as the owner of a small law firm.

When I was a little girl growing up in the Middle East (Dubai, Riyadh, and Doha), I never imagined myself as a lawyer. My dad was a pediatric radiologist, and my mom stayed at home. I thought I would grow up to be a physician as well. My first passion was art, and while my parents supported and lavishly funded my art hobby, they disapproved of art as a career — you know, fears about housing a starving artist and all. So, in college, I halfheartedly pursued pre-med (the wholeheartedly accepted profession of many an immigrant parent!).

September 11, 2001, was the pivotal day that led me away from medicine. If the world was coming to an end, I did not want to be in organic chemistry or genetics class. I heeded my longing for artistic expression and switched my major to creative advertising, where I thrived and received recognition as a student. That joy was short-lived. I learned that advertising jobs are always the first to go in a recession like we were experiencing post-9/11. Again, I felt lost.

When searching for what to do next, my brother reminded me that I loved to argue — still do, by the way — and asked if I would consider pursuing law. I Googled (probably Ask Jeeves-ed in 2001) how to become a lawyer. The lack of prerequisite courses is why I decided to take the LSAT and attend law school, which almost as good as becoming a doctor for Nigerian parents. Compelling, no?

Before I attended law school, I was an A student, killing it with ease on exams. In law school, I was not a stand-out student. My 1L year was the first time in my life that I didn’t enjoy learning or feel like I belonged. On top of the 1L stress, loneliness, and competition, my dad was terminally ill with cancer. My law school career was a crisis in confidence. I didn’t know then that the legal system was not built for people like me. (According to a 2020 study by the American Bar Association, only 5% of all attorneys are Black, even though 13.4% of the United States’ population is Black.) I didn’t have any mentors, allies, or much guidance through the legal educational process. It seemed that so many of my classmates had dads, uncles, and friends who reserved jobs for them — some in Biglaw, clerkships, and apprenticeships. Back then, I knew I would not thrive in Biglaw with ease — and honestly, it still isn’t a place where I would feel welcomed.

TL;DR: I survived, graduated from law school, and passed the bar (the second time).

I spent the first 11 years of my career in nonprofit school law, speaking and presenting legal concepts to fellow lawyers, clients, and education professionals. In those 11 years, I got married and birthed three children in pretty rapid succession; this did not bode well for a Black woman with hopes of shattering a glass ceiling. A ceiling I now know is fiction. As I was often exhausted from caretaking, family life, and sleep deprivation, I also grew tired of the in-house desk job. I knew I needed to get out and seek more creativity in my work.

The creative decision was made for me as I was fired shortly after returning from my third maternity leave in five years. Plot twist! I spiraled into depression, shame, and reputational bruising. In retrospect, I am not bitter about the termination because I was not great at my job, and I needed to exit. So thank you, God, for that release into what I do now!

But before my now mature response, I experienced a lot of soul-searching and wondered whether I was worthy of being a lawyer.

Am I smart enough? I didn’t ace law school or pass the bar exam the first time.

Is law for someone like me? I certainly didn’t look like the vast majority of my colleagues.

Am I necessary to the profession? So few of us exist.

Thankfully, I didn’t stay in that doom spiral forever. I applied to many legal jobs with no success. Finally, my husband questioned why (for the umpteenth time) I was so averse to hanging my shingle. I decided to prove him wrong by setting up a law office to show him that no one was interested in my services. However, I was soon hired, and after the dopamine hit of a paid invoice, I was hooked.

When I started my practice, I took anything that hit my inbox. One day, my preschool mom friend asked me whether I did wills. She worked for a financial planner, and the attorney who was getting repeated referral business was putting the wrong names on the wills. Imagine that.

An attorney. At a will signing. Had the wrong clients’ names on the documents.

I knew I could do better than that mediocre (insert side-eye) guy who was getting referral business. I told my financial planner friend, “I do now!”

I dove headfirst into learning everything I could about estate planning. I didn’t have any personal or professional connections to usher me into an estate planning law firm. (People who look like me do not fit the role of someone who traditionally has access to estate planning.) I took courses, cold-called attorneys, and shamelessly asked questions on Facebook lawyer groups, which like Facebook mom groups, can be a hotbed of drama, judgment, bigotry, and shame. So, I had to cobble it all together. I created what seemed aligned to me and tested it to see if it would work.

I pivoted to market my firm from a woman’s gaze, using my voice. For law, this is unusual as the law (and America) is white male-dominated.

Remember that stat about 5% of lawyers being Black?

Preparing women with estate plans is how I play my part to end inequality and unfair disadvantages due to racism, sexism, classism, and other barriers that keep women from building and transferring generational wealth. I show women how to continue to call the shots for their people and pursuits while preserving their voices in decision-making. The idea that wealth and advancement belongs exclusively to a specific group or class will never sit right with me.

My journey to becoming a lawyer and law firm owner is not Clair Huxtable inspired. Rather than a plan, I stayed open to possibilities, which is ironic now that I am an estate “planner.” Any journey to firm ownership can be equally messy, yet successful.

Please feel free to send any constructive comments or questions to me at [email protected]. I would also love to hear your topic suggestions!

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Iffy Ibekwe is the principal attorney and founder of Ibekwe Law, PLLC. She is an estate planning attorney evangelist for intergenerational wealth transfer with effective wills and trusts. Iffy is writing her first book on culturally competent estate planning, available in 2022 (prayers up!). She graduated from The University of Texas School of Law and has practiced law for over 14 years. Iffy can be reached by email at [email protected], on her website, and on Instagram @thejustincaselawyer.