Trial Magazine

It is 2024, but it is only within the past decade that the first Black woman was elected president of the American Bar Association, an organization founded in 1878, and the first Black woman was installed on this nation’s highest court, a court that first convened in 1790. According to Forbes, in 2023, Black women accounted for only 2.28% of all lawyers at firms in America.

I sometimes still get shocked looks when I appear in certain courts representing my client. And people also still presume that I’m the client or court reporter. I watch as we take backward steps in diversity, equity, and inclusion, which will make the demographics of attorneys and the judiciary less reflective of the demographics of our country. I still walk into rooms (conferences, courtrooms, mediations, depositions) where I am the only Black woman.

Being the ‘only one’ can sometimes feel like a burden when it becomes the focus, when we become the de facto expert on ‘all things Black.’

Being the “only one” can sometimes feel like a burden when it becomes the focus, when we become the de facto expert on “all things Black.” We are asked about how Black people feel or think about a subject, as if we are monolithic people. We are looked upon for the ultimate answer, especially on matters pertaining to race.

And while our opinions may be sought after in certain settings, in other instances Black women attorneys are often held to a higher standard, which can be daunting when we must constantly go above and beyond our colleagues’ accomplishments just to be considered their equal. We pride ourselves on our ability to be multifaceted and wear many hats, while successfully juggling our professional and personal obligations. We constantly have to adjust and think creatively to balance our careers and lives. Despite our Herculean efforts, day after day, there are always reminders—some subtle and others more blatant—that we are not like the others.

Nonetheless, every day I wear my immutable badge of honor proudly, standing boldly with a dedicated focus on advocating for those who have been convinced that they are voiceless, powerless, unseen, or unheard. I cherish the opportunity to share my perspective and experience with others—it is the only way for us to grow together and create a better society not focused on our differences but on our far more numerous commonalities. It can also encourage people to pause and consider how they can create spaces where Black women are respected and honored, rather than tolerated or even ignored.

I recall a time when I appeared in court to argue a motion I had filed. After driving over an hour to reach the courthouse, I sat at the counsel table and then was inexplicably never directly addressed by name the entire day. My opposing counsel, a white man, received a warm greeting from the judge and was treated as if he were the only lawyer in the courtroom. The court received every factual representation I made with skepticism—that is, until opposing counsel confirmed each representation. It was as if my words and legal arguments had no weight or relevance until opposing counsel affirmed them.

Imagine, in this decade, being treated in a way that hearkens back to a bygone and shameful time in our nation’s history, while having to focus on the task at hand and sit silent while being summarily disregarded as a professional and a person. And yet, I realized while experiencing these indignities that I was there not to represent myself or to assuage my bruised feelings but to represent a client who was depending on me to be at my best.

A native of Haiti, I was often reminded of how different I was when I first immigrated to the United States as a child and even made to feel less than others. To experience the same treatment as a professional simply because of the color of my skin is disappointing. To experience the same treatment as a licensed attorney, sworn to abide by the Constitution and the legal system, because of my race is painful.

My parents ingrained in me at an early age the importance of an education and standing up for what I believe to be right. I’ve learned that effective advocacy is not only about my education and courtroom skills but also requires courage to assert them.

Despite all that we experience, each day I remain incredibly grateful and optimistic that the changes we need will happen because of our willingness to build the world we want our children to inherit. I salute our friends in the law who serve as allies and speak up when they see or hear something they know is not right, just, or fair.

I welcome others to join in this chorus of conscience if for no other reason than to gain an enhanced perspective that will allow us to continue to grow together as a society. This broadened perspective will inform not only how we approach our clients and colleagues but also the diverse array of jurors we encounter from various backgrounds and who share a wide range of views, culturally and politically.

Roodgine Bray is a partner at Davis Bozeman Law Firm in Decatur, Ga., and can be reached at rbray@davisbozemanlaw.com.