In-House Counsel

A Devil, An Angel, And A Women In The Law Panel

It is the duty of the privileged, the over-represented, or the ones with the microphone to push for equality.

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(Image by Sarah Feingold)

My cartoon angel floated above one shoulder; my devil clawed at the other.

One whispered, “The audience wants to hear about careers, women, and the legal profession. Keep to the script. You have been fighting for a stage, don’t mess this up.”

The other groaned, “You see a problem. They see a problem. You have a platform. Use it.”

I eyed my imaginary angel, assuming she was the voice who was encouraging me to stay on topic. Her halo sparkled, “Speak up. This is what it’s like to be a woman in the law.”

The devil smirked, fake horns poked my cheek, “You missed your chance to voice an opinion. Just answer the moderator’s questions and keep tricking people into thinking you know what you’re talking about. Don’t disappoint the panel’s coordinator. Be a good girl. Don’t rock the boat.”

I was a panelist for a conversation on careers and women in the law. I am a woman. The other panelists were women. The audience seemed to consist solely of women. Most appeared to be a couple of years out of law school. The two moderators were men.

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I sat on the stage, microphone in hand, patiently anticipating the next question. I thought back to the prep calls and emails.

My imagined devil started in on my least favorite game: “Should’ve.” After I learned the makeup of the panel, I should’ve talked to the coordinator about the optics of two men asking career questions to a panel of women, in front of an audience of women. I should’ve privately chatted with the moderators about their draft questions and their backgrounds as allies. While munching on chocolate croissants before the talk, I should’ve asked the fellow panelists about their opinions on this situation. I should’ve eaten yogurt instead of the croissants. I should’ve studied harder in law school. I should’ve stayed in bed.

My angel reminded me of the clock on the wall. Our time was nearing an end. On my subway ride home, what new should’ves would be added to the list?

My pretend angel winked. I shivered and balanced my shoulder worries.

“I want to ask everyone here,” my voice boomed, “how many of you self-identify as a man?”

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All hands stayed down, except for two – the moderators.

“Self-identified men, allies, can you talk to us about careers for women in the law, being allies, and working with allies?” I shut my mouth, like my devil trained me to do.

The men likely provided fine responses. They are clearly invested in this topic. I had trouble focusing because my shoulder devil was still playing “Should’ve,” criticizing me, and pointing out my flaws. The men spoke and the women stared.

As my career progresses, I have realized that it is the duty of the privileged, the over-represented, or the ones with the microphone to push for equality. To have a positive impact on the next generation, I recommend three actions:

1)    Show up, ask questions, listen, and follow up. Conversations focused on equality should not exist in a vacuum or an echo chamber. But it’s not enough for allies to simply attend events. We all must commit to supporting the future superstars in our orbits. Have conversations about her goals and what she needs for the next step in her career. And then, do something tangible to raise her up.

2)    Do not let an opportunity die on the vine. Say her name in a room full of opportunities. Pass along opportunities (like a job, an article, a contact, a company project, an event, a speaking gig, or an award), that may support her goals or may lead to her career growth.

3)    Imperfectly speak up when something doesn’t feel right. Don’t listen to that negative voice in your head who wants you to be quiet. Even if your timing is off (mine typically is) and you don’t articulate the issue perfectly (I never do) it is usually better to be imperfect than silent.

After the panel, a line formed. One at a time, women shared their stories and thanked me for highlighting what they noticed. The conference coordinator smiled, noted that my contributions were valuable, and asked me to lunch. The male moderators also seemed pleased with my input. One invited me to speak at his future event.

My cartoon devil sighed and warned me not to publish this.

Sarah Feingold (she/her) is a Brooklyn-based startup attorney (formerly first Lawyer and General Counsel at Etsy and Vroom), artist, playwright, investor, board member, speaker, candy eater, and mom. She received The New York Law Journal’s General Counsel Impact Award. Sarah’s worlds collide in her new play, Dirty Legal Secrets – www.sarahfeingold.com.

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