Sexism In the Legal Field

#123 - Have you ever walked into a room and been completely dismissed based on how you look? Karen has—too many times to count.

In this episode, Karen and Mo get real about sexism in the legal field, the constant battle for credibility, and the emotional toll of being underestimated. From being mistaken for a court reporter well into her 50s to a judge mid-trial asking if she was actually a lawyer, Karen shares her firsthand experiences of sexism in law. Mo brings his perspective as an immigrant navigating a world that often made him feel like an outsider.

This conversation isn’t just about legal professionals; it’s about what it means to be seen and respected and to fight for your place at the table.

🎙️ Listen now and join the discussion.

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Transcript

Sexism in the practice of law. Anything with sex and law, I want to talk about.

God, you said it. You started the topic!

All right, let’s talk about it. First question: Have you ever been mistaken for not being a lawyer in a courtroom, deposition, or legal setting?

Hell no. Have you?

Uh-huh. Let me count the ways.

Okay, tell me about it.

This is really common for most female lawyers, especially of my generation. Do you know how old I was when I graduated from law school?

No, guess.

Boom, correct. What year was that?

Wait, what?

Yeah, I graduated in 1985.

Oh, okay, you don’t look it.

So coming out of law school, I could understand why people might not have thought I was a lawyer—I was young. But let’s fast forward to my 30s.

Okay.

Eight out of ten times I went to a deposition, I wasn’t asked if I was an attorney. Instead, I was asked, “Are you the court reporter?”

Wow.

Every. Single. Time. At first, I thought maybe it was because I had a laptop. Back then, laptops weren’t common, and court reporters used them. But then I realized the real reason—I didn’t look like the other lawyers.

And what did the other lawyers look like?

They were male. Almost all male attorneys.

And do you think it was mainly male attorneys making that mistake?

Actually, no. It was usually other women—receptionists, staff. Once, I walked into a big downtown defense firm for a deposition, and the receptionist, an older woman, looked at me and said, “The court reporter is already here.” She didn’t ask. She just assumed.

I told her my name, said I was there for a case, and she repeated, “The court reporter is already here.” I said, “I don’t care if the court reporter is here—I need to go in, I’m running late.”

She got frustrated, insisting I must be mistaken, even though I was the attorney taking the deposition. I finally just walked past her. She chased me down the hall, telling me I couldn’t go in. I opened the door, and all the lawyers inside turned and said, “Hi, Karen.”

The receptionist turned red and slunk away.

That’s insane.

And it happened over and over again.

How did that feel?

It’s a cumulative effect. At first, you wonder, “Am I not professional enough? Do I not look like a lawyer?” But after years of it, I stopped caring.

That’s what I call a “scarcity experience.” Like when you start to question, “What am I lacking? Why am I not being seen for who I am?”

Exactly. Have you ever experienced that?

Yes. When my family immigrated to the U.S., I felt like I didn’t belong. Everyone around me spoke English perfectly, and in Texas, where we first lived, most people were white. I felt excluded, like I wasn’t part of the story unfolding in front of me.

It makes you feel isolated, doesn’t it?

Yes, it makes you feel othered.

And nobody wants to be othered. You want to be part of humanity, part of your neighborhood, part of your profession. But when you’re constantly mistaken for something you’re not, it creates division.

So did that shape how you interacted with groups?

I think so. I never really wanted to be part of a group. But maybe that’s because I was never fully accepted in one.

That’s a common experience for mixed-race people too. Like, you’re not Chinese enough to be Chinese, and you’re not German-Jewish enough to be German-Jewish. So you end up forming your own identity.

That’s exactly it.

One time, I was in court doing voir dire for a case. I had been in the courtroom for days, working with the judge, leading discussions.

After the jury left, the judge leaned over the bench, looked right at me, and said, “Are you a lawyer?”

Wait—what?

Yep. I was almost 50 years old at the time.

That’s different. It’s one thing for a receptionist to assume you’re not an attorney, but in open court, in front of everyone? That’s humiliating.

So what do you do in that moment? You can’t just say, “Of course I’m a lawyer, Your Honor!” You have to be tactical.

How did you respond?

Without hesitation, I said, “Yes, Your Honor.” No indignation, no pushback. Because as a lawyer, my job is to advocate—for my client, not myself.

You had to swallow it.

Exactly. Because if I challenged him, I risked making the judge defensive, which could hurt my client. It wasn’t about me.

Even as recently as 2018, I was leading a major case with 50 clients. I flew to Branson, Missouri, for depositions and had to go to court.

At security, they told me I couldn’t bring my phone inside because only attorneys were allowed to have phones.

Meanwhile, the younger, male attorney behind me—who was not lead counsel—walked right through, no questions asked.

Unbelievable.

I had to stand there while he vouched for me. I was 58 years old.

Sexism is alive and well, Karen. Some people still believe that women who look, talk, and walk like you don’t belong in law. Or they’re just not used to seeing it, so they can’t process it.

And that’s the bottom line. I’ve had male co-counsel call me honey, darling, sweetie—throughout my entire career.

That’s infuriating.

And the worst part? I’ve had male lawyers praise me for “not having a chip on my shoulder.”

As if you shouldn’t have one?!

Exactly.

I know I can’t fully understand what you’ve been through, just like you can’t fully understand my experience. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.

That’s why these conversations matter.

And for the record, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this.

I appreciate that. Now, can we get some wipes for your sticky hands?

I’m nervous! We’re having a deep conversation!

I’m thriving.