Reflections of a Lady Lawyer

REFLECTIONS OF A LADY LAWYER

LISA BLATT†

Kudos to law schools for focusing on women in the legal profession.

It’s not always easy being a woman in this profession or, what someone from

my home state of Texas once called me, “a Lady Lawyer.” That was more

than ten years ago, when I was a little-known alumnus of the Solicitor

General’s Office embarking on my appellate career in private practice. The

lawyer asked me to speak at the Fifth Circuit Judicial Conference. When I

asked why, he candidly responded: “We wanted a Lady Lawyer.” The truth

is, I was not the least bit offended. I am a Lady Lawyer. For better or worse,

that is how the profession defines us. And I for one prefer to own it because

my success as a lawyer has come in no small part from incorporating my

identity as a woman, wife, and mother into my professional status.

I arrived at law school at the University of Texas in 1986 as an insecure,

anxious, and very unhappy twenty-one-year-old whose main dietary staple

consisted of lettuce that I allowed to marinate in my hot locker until

lunchtime. It’s a small miracle that I not only survived law school but

managed to avoid being felled by food poisoning. I had no money, and I had

failed miserably with men. Perhaps that is why I entered law school obsessed

with two goals: first, I wanted to do well enough to land a job to keep me out

of poverty; and second, I wanted to get married and have kids. Those desires

never wavered and happily dovetailed when I started in 1990 at the

Washington, D.C. law firm of Williams & Connolly where, within the first

few months, I simultaneously made enough money to pay off my credit card

debt and met my future husband.

Although now I think of myself as a lawyer who is at the same time a

woman, wife, and mother, I started my career thinking that I had to separate

my lawyer self from my feminine side. That was a disaster. I tried to look

and act like the successful men (and, back then, the few successful women)

I saw in law firms. It was the early 1990s, so that involved dressing in ill-

fitting, drab suits while trying to be polite, polished, and diplomatic—in

other words, I tried my best not to be myself. Once I had children, I tried to

look and act like the perfect mother outside working hours: I volunteered at

my kids’ school and was so desperate to fit stereotypes of motherhood that I

attempted baking (the results were not remotely edible). But none of this

† Partner, Williams & Connolly LLP.

58 WOMEN & LAW

worked. I remained full of self-doubt, second-guessing my decisions, not

knowing whose advice to take, and feeling like a failure on all fronts. It

became clear that being an ideal lawyer, and an ideal wife, and an ideal

mother was beyond my limited repertoire. I realized that I needed to embrace

who I was—full stop—and stop trying to fake my way through a

compartmentalized life.

Fast forward to today. I am back home at Williams & Connolly, some

thirty years after I started there, and at a time when I have the distinction of

having argued more cases in the Supreme Court than any other woman. I

wear a lot of bright colors, and friends’ children know that they are not

supposed to imitate my colorful language. So how did I get here? For starters,

doing well at this law school allowed me to clerk for the incomparable Ruth

Bader Ginsburg, then a judge on the D.C. Circuit. Judge Ginsburg showed

me what it meant to be a woman not just steeped in the law, but

unapologetically chic and equally unapologetic about devoting time to

family. She inspired me for decades to work harder so I could feel worthy of

having clerked for her. I am positive that I fell short during that year; my two

co-clerks were from Harvard and were more mature, better writers, and more

sophisticated than me. For many years after, I had anxiety nightmares about

appearing before Justice Ginsburg in the Supreme Court without knowing

what the case was about or without practicing my answers.

I later gained some level of sophistication, writing skills, and maturity

while working for thirteen years as an Assistant to the Solicitor General in

the Department of Justice. I there argued twenty-seven cases before the

Supreme Court and served under seven incredible Solicitors General and

acting Solicitors General—Walter Dellinger, Seth Waxman, Ted Olson, Paul

Clement, Greg Garre, Neal Katyal, and Elena Kagan. The Office was honest

about why they hired me: it was 1996, they were looking for women, and as

I said, I happen to be a Lady Lawyer. When I left that office in 2009, I

predicted that female advocates would soon achieve parity with men because

half the Office had been female and these women presumably would enter

private practice just like me. And for the last ten years, the Office, under both

Democratic and Republican administrations, consistently has hired

exceptionally talented women.

I was wrong. Parity is still nowhere to be seen. There is an appalling

dearth of female Supreme Court advocates. Women argue typically between

15%–18% of the cases before the Supreme Court in any year;

women

. Adam Feldman, A Dearth of Female Attorneys at Supreme Court Oral Arguments, EMPIRICAL

SCOTUS (Oct. 22, 2017), https://empiricalscotus.com/2017/10/22/dearth-female-args/ [https://perma.cc

/SDW6-BLX8].

REFLECTIONS OF A LADY LAWYER 59

argued a paltry 11% of the cases in 2017.

Most of these women are

government lawyers, public interest lawyers, and public defenders. Last

year, of all the lawyers in private practice who appeared before the Court,

only 8% were women.

Corporations overwhelmingly hire men. This should

either alarm you, depress you, or both.

I do not have an easy fix, but I can offer some observations. First,

Supreme Court advocacy, especially oral advocacy, is not focused on

problem-solving, consensus-building, or mentorship—attributes people

associate with female stereotypes. An “argument” is just that: it involves

combative communication and intense verbal jousting. You either win or

lose. Or, as I like to frame every case I argue, someone is going to die, and I

don’t want it to be me. For better or worse, I think women come across as

less combative than men. My empirical research on this is rock-solid:

throughout elementary school, I only saw boys get in fights on the

playground.

Second, Supreme Court advocacy requires supreme fearlessness and

confidence. Again, for better or worse, female lawyers either are less

confident, or project less confidence to clients, than male lawyers. In my

experience, it is not so much that women sell themselves too short, but that

many men sell themselves too long. This is so even when some men who

argue have no business standing up in the Supreme Court. My research here

again is unassailable: only women have told me they could never see

themselves arguing in front of the Supreme Court.

At the same time, I know there is rank discrimination in the profession,

even if most of it is unintentional. I have had to ask myself on many

occasions: were I man, would these associates be complaining about the way

I like binders prepared or cases highlighted or denigrate my judgment on

how to strategically frame a case? I have had associates I have never met

from other law firms send me cookie-cutter, form e-mails asking me to write

briefs for free. I always respond the same: “I typically like to get paid for

work, and can you please let me know all of the men you sent this email to?”

Maybe these associates were just doing what a partner told them to do. But

I have never received a response back after sending these e-mails. I’ve seen

many instances where men think only of other men when it comes to oral

argument assignments or which associate should give a firm-wide or client

presentation. I cannot know whether any of these instances resulted from

intentional discrimination, implicit biases, or whether I am just paranoid, or

whether all three are in play. No one will admit even to having implicit

. Id.

. Jimmy Hoover et al., Making Her Case: Will the Future of the Supreme Court Bar Be Female?,

LAW360 (Oct. 2, 2018), https://www.law360.com/articles/1087277 [https://perma.cc/W7L8-V444].

60 WOMEN & LAW

biases. Would you?

Here is how I try to help. I try to be a role model for women. I lead my

practice group at my law firm, Williams & Connolly, with not one, but two

other women. I encourage women to project strength and confidence, and I

give young women the following advice: Stop looking for your passion. Sex

and horseback riding are passions; work should not be. I do not want a

passionate surgeon or a passionate airplane pilot. I want someone who is

excellent and can produce good results. The same is true of a lawyer. I want

someone who can answer my questions, win my case, or get me out of a jam.

I also tell women to be themselves. Just do what you are good at;

chances are, you will generally enjoy doing something you are good at.

Telling women to follow their passion also sets way too high of a bar for

them, and it is a recipe for defeat and disappointment. Work is stressful and

exhausting. I see women leave the workforce or quit their jobs because they

weren’t successful, not because they lacked passion. You are better off going

to work at a place that wants and needs you for a skill you have. You will

have more control over your work and schedule. It is much easier to set

boundaries when your colleagues need you more than you need them. It may

have taken me a while, but I have no problem telling my colleagues to leave

me alone because my kids are more important to me than reviewing their

briefs, and not to schedule work meetings before 10:00, after 5:00, or on the

weekends.

So learn your strengths and know your weaknesses. I accepted early on

that I would be a terrible trial lawyer, even though I dreamt of being the next

Brendan Sullivan. I do not live only for my work. I love doing something I

am good at that helps other people, and the pay is a real plus. And while I

hate to lose, winning is not what gives my life meaning. It does not even fill

me with joy. In fact, I usually am still mad that the client was sued in the first

place or had to sue to obtain relief. I save my passion for my home and my

hobbies, like coaching high school debate and shopping.

I like to tell law students that picking a job is a lot like picking a spouse:

it’s hard to know what you are getting into until it’s too late to get out. For

instance, when I was looking for a husband, humor, brains, and love of

children was all that mattered to me. I never thought to ask about parenting

philosophy, religion, finances, and who would control the thermostat or TV

remote. In terms of a profession, it also is virtually impossible to know

exactly what you want out of a job, or whether you will get it even assuming

you know what you want. When starting out, I cared about salary and

whether working at a firm would keep doors open for me in case I hated my

job. It never occurred to me to think about some basic questions, such as:

would someone teach me how to actually practice law; how hard would I

work; how would I be reviewed; what if I needed help; could I succeed at

REFLECTIONS OF A LADY LAWYER 61

work and have enough time to exercise, shop, go to the doctor, go on dates,

and have children; and would I be happy?

Looking back, I don’t know who I could have asked, how I could have

asked them, or what I even wanted the answers to be. Instead, I chose to work

at Williams & Connolly because some primordial instinct told me it was a

place that would go to the ends of the earth and back for its clients. I lasted

three years there. Although I loved the people, my reviews were only so-so.

In retrospect, I had little clue what I was doing, and I was not cut-out for trial

work. I discovered that appellate law allows me to use my strengths in

empathy, storytelling, and persistence without the need to be good at multi-

tasking, organization, and face-to-face adversity with opposing counsel.

I also don’t run away from my double X chromosomes. I do not dress

like a man, I do not talk like a man, and I do not think like a man. I empathize

with my clients. I put myself in their shoes and learn their business. I do not

judge them. I do not think about what the law is or should be. I focus only

on how to win. How do I do that? Again, I imagine someone is going to die,

and I don’t want it to be me. And that is where my maternal instincts kick in

on steroids. I assume my clients are being bullied (they inevitably are), and

my job is to protect and defend them at all costs.

Failure and humiliation are part of life. And work is no different.

Disappointment and rejection are inevitable. I can count more jobs and more

clients and more cases that I didn’t get than those I did. At some point, you

can throw in the towel if you just aren’t good enough at something. But if

you do have a skill, never let other people’s perception of you define you.

Let me share some priceless advice that has loosely been attributed to

Eleanor Roosevelt: you wouldn’t worry so much about what other people

think of you if you knew how seldom they think of you.

Here are some practical job tips. First impressions mean everything. If

you do a great job off the bat, chances are your boss will look past your

inevitable mistakes. It’s much harder to make up lost ground. Accept

criticism when it’s deserved. Being too defensive encourages others to start

battles and attack you.

As to my approach to oral advocacy, truth is the best form of advocacy.

A court is more likely to trust what you have to say if you acknowledge any

shortcomings in the record or in your arguments. I have always been

extremely direct and blunt. I also have learned to trust my judgment and

instincts more as I age. Many colleagues have advised me not to go bold, but

to play it safe in briefs or arguments. Thankfully, at key points in my career,

I ignored them, and I do not regret it. To the extent I have regrets, I only wish

I had stood my ground more often and told more people that they were idiots.

Find mentors who will care about you and who you can turn to for

62 WOMEN & LAW

advice. Justice Ginsburg was key to the Solicitor General’s Office hiring me,

and I also was fortunate to have had the backing of colleagues I had worked

with at Williams & Connolly and the Department of Energy. But you need

more than good references. Justice Ginsburg gave me great advice when I

went to her about seven years into my career in the Solicitor General’s

Office, at a time when I thought my career was a standstill. I told her I had

been in the job years longer than most people hold that job, and I asked her

whether it was time to do something else to advance my career. She asked

what the Office was like, and I recounted to her in detail what my daily job

entailed. She then said the last thing I wanted or expected to hear: “I think

you should stay. You are good at what you are doing. And you seem very

happy with your ability to control your schedule and spend time with your

kids.” I remember leaving very disappointed with what I thought was a

milquetoast response. I wanted her to recommend some sexy, new, and

thrilling opportunity for me, but thank goodness she knew what she was

doing. I stayed in that office for many more years, time that I needed to grow

personally and professionally. Staying there was the best thing that could

have happened to my career.

I also like to say that behind every successful woman are the many men

in her life who just got out of her way. I could not have done my job without

a husband who supported my job and at times limited his own work so he

could help with parenting when I was crashing in preparation for an oral

argument. And I would have quit practicing law a long time ago were it not

for one particular boss: Paul Clement. He was my boss for seven years at the

Solicitor General’s Office, first as Principal Deputy Solicitor General and

later as Solicitor General. When Paul was Solicitor General, and shortly after

the birth of my second child in 2001, I asked Paul what previously had been

anathema in that office—could I go part-time? Paul immediately said “yes”

without consulting anyone else, and quickly followed it up by saying, “just

let me know at some point what I just agreed to.”

Several years later, still in the Solicitor General’s Office, I was ready to

quit practicing law entirely to spend more time at home. I also was mentally

exhausted. Paul suggested that, instead of quitting, I take a leave of absence.

And he said something I will never forget: he told me I was good at my job.

I took Paul up on his offer, took a half-year off, and returned to the Office

six months later, still on a part-time basis. Paul’s flexibility and

understanding of the challenges facing working mothers saved my career.

For the last eighteen years, I have remained part-time. To this day, I often

refer to Paul as the greatest feminist of his generation. Every woman should

find a boss like Paul Clement.

I end with a word to any Justices, Judges, clients, and lawyers in

management who read this: please do more to hire, support, and encourage

REFLECTIONS OF A LADY LAWYER 63

talented women who want to work. Women don’t look or talk like Perry

Mason, and you don’t want us to. We often are more creative, smarter, more

persistent, and harder-working than men, and we actually win cases. So call

me a Lady Lawyer. Just don’t underestimate me in Court.