Five Lessons and Survival Tips for My Sisters and Brothers in the Law

When I was a teenager, I was determined to break my own cycle of poverty in Canada and access spaces reserved for the non-brown. I thought, with a law degree, I could make a living and advocate for my communities. To my surprise, in law school, I felt alone and isolated—I couldn’t find anyone like me. In practice, I don’t look and feel like I belong. My writing is my way to connect with and encourage other Misfits in the Law. 

As a brown female and an aspiring lawyer, I was a contradiction. I was at odds with social perceptions. In my community, I was the one who made it. In the legal profession, I was perceived as the interpreter, assistant or witness, and in public, I simply did not look like a lawyer. I know now that my experience was not isolated. My hope is that my writing, the five lessons and survival tips below, does several things: it makes you feel seen by affirming the painful challenges we often encounter, collectivizes our wisdom on how to tackle them, and is a reminder that the responsibility to solve systemic oppression is not only ours to carry. 

Embrace Intersectionality to Reveal the Whole Truth 

The law creates universal truths that reinforce our (mis)understandings of the world. These universal truths, however, are difficult to bend to reflect the progression of our time. The law is meant to be about real people and their lived experiences, but in reality and in practice, the law often serves to re-inscribe powerful racial hierarchies. The lives of certain individuals are made out as legitimate, while others—generally brown and black bodies—are dangerous and inconvenient. When a brown body is “saved”—given a more lenient sentence or released—the notion is a feeling of goodwill. The law perpetuates simplistic notions—innocent or guilty—and ignores our intersectional realities. 

Lesson one: Life is complicated, but the law creates simple and narrow truths. By being brown and in the law, your presence—the very glow on your skin—is an act. You are the challenge to legal boundaries. You are necessary for new conceptions of justice. You represent a new truth. 

Survival tip: You are not in the system, but a part of the system. While members of your community are confined between concrete walls, you are a legal tool. Keep your eyes open, not half-closed, and don’t let the signs of systemic and structural oppression slip by you. 

Reject Conformity to Shatter the Idea of Legal Neutrality 

The legal system is a political system. Bias and power do not really change in the political realm. The paradox of being brown—not brown enough or not the right kind of brown in the white world—has taught me to manipulate my voice and body to suit the observer. What kind of brown would be most desirable in the situation: the poor brown, the educated-successful brown, or the non-brown? Social positioning can determine my legitimacy. 

Lesson two: The idea that I can mold myself, turns me against myself. It makes no difference to change myself, when it reinforces the idea that brown people should conform to meet expectations of whiteness. The idea that the legal system serves us all equally—that we have neutral principles that are impersonal, unemotional and unmanipulated—is a myth. 

Survival tip: Teach yourself not to see what they see. By being brown and in the law, you are the lesson for difference and the threat to the ordering of our legal and political system. 

Reclaim the Narrative to Redefine Expertise

If I work harder and become a lawyer, I can get out of poverty and have the ‘American Dream.’ But poor brown people who pursue a legal career in service of their communities, will always be poor. There is no money to be made by helping other poor brown people. Obligations like crippling student debt and poor elderly parents mostly lead poor brown lawyers to private practice, leaving leadership positions in the non-profit sector to those who come from generational-wealth. This creates class and racial hierarchies within human rights law, which often looks like upper-middle class white lawyers helping poor brown people, and this perpetuates the White Saviour complex. Poor brown lawyers are essentially barred from representing poor brown clients because of their financial circumstances. 

Lesson three: I am told that the Have’s are entitled to wealth because they work hard; the Have-not’s just need to catch up—the poor need to work harder. If you’re brown and poor, the law strips you of your agency; you can’t be an expert in your own life or for your community—these positions are already filled. 

Survival tip: Continue to ponder broader questions, but do not turn this into a race or class war. There are already too many bad conditions in the world, just turn on the news. Collaborate, listen and propose new ways of doing things. 

Community Is Your Power and Will Fuel Your Purpose

If you decide to continue to be poor and join a legal organization that serves members of your community, you will confront resistance. If I dare speak my truth, I am radical, too controversial. The leaders in your organization do not look like you, but they speak for you. The few that do look like you, their lived experiences are often far removed from the community they serve. When it becomes apparent that you know the community because you are the community, you will be asked to be an interpreter, to explain cultural differences. The gaps you see and the changes you propose, however, will be too big to tackle, not within their mandate. The leaders in your organization mostly have other plans, their objective is to do good with little self-reflection. They aren’t interested in evaluating their prejudice, unconscious bias, or equipped to ask: What does it mean to be an upper-middle class white lawyer helping poor brown people? 

Lesson four: Your non-profit does not have much room to create leadership positions for you. So, you do what you are told, and focus on climbing the ladder, so that you can eventually sit in that seat. The idea that you won’t be stuck in the same role forever gives you hope. 

Survival tip: Do not allow the law to occupy you, to destroy your spirit. Keep community close, they give you fuel. When all else fails, envision your strides changing the narrative for the next generation—think of your daughter in that leadership position.

Create Space for Different Thought With Wholeness and Belonging

In a legal proceeding, it is all of us on trial. The law reinforces power and dominance over poor brown people. So it imposes a duty on us to break the rules and create a substitution for different thought. Different thought, however, is usually taken more seriously when presented by the non-brown. We accustom ourselves, therefore, to having a spokesperson—one who usually does not look like us, speak like us, or share in our lived experiences. Or, we begin to look less like us, speak more like them, and deny our lived experiences. 

Lesson five: The illusion is that you can be poor and brown and in the law, just as you are. It begins as unconscious, then suddenly expands to the forefront, and this burst of reality is our greatest harm. There will be no compassion and no remorse for what you now see. 

Survival tip: This very personal experience matters. If you have been told “it is irrelevant” or to “get over it,” I urge you not to eliminate the significance of your story. Heal and then re-center; remember that the law is full of disconnect and your presence in the legal profession creates a spotlight on the complete picture. 

. . . . . .

If there is one takeaway from my writing, I hope that it is this: You are not alone. My vision is that we meet these challenges with radical imagination and total confidence. Eventually, enough people will see these challenges and together we can make serving our communities a less treacherous place. As the inspiring Maya Angelou reminds us, “When you know better, you do better.” When you reclaim your agency to speak out about what needs changing with a collective sense of responsibility—to think intersectionally and act in solidarity—a more just world stops being a possibility and becomes a reality, even if for one person.

Meet Harpreet: Harpreet Ahuja is a lawyer, human rights consultant, and social justice advocate driven by the conviction that systems need reimagining. Her work explores the intersection of law, policy, and lived experience—and tells the human stories behind injustice. Harpreet is based in Vancouver and publishes on her website.