Sandra Day O'Connor

My experience with the justice system began when I was nine years old, testifying against my kidnapper. I remember it vividly. The courtroom. The judge. The lawyers. I remember feeling so small in the witness chair. I remember the ugly green dress my mom made me wear. I recall the Judge telling me to speak louder after turning the volume on the microphone all the way up, and the defense attorneys asking the judge to remove my mom because she was “coaching me” from the gallery.  The court house felt like a place where people like me were not voluntary participants.

I was a poor, inner city kid. Statically I was someone who probably wouldn’t graduate high school but probably would be a teenage mom. I was another person likely to perpetuate the cycle of poverty for another generation. By age 11 or 12, I was a news junkie. I was aware of the legal system. And I wanted to be a lawyer. I didn’t know any. I just knew I wanted to be one. I was told time and time again that people like me don't become lawyers.

When I was 13 years old, Justice Sandra Day O’Connor was sworn in as the first woman on the Untied States Supreme Court. I watched the news with wide eyes as a whole new feeling of something washed over me. Being? Purpose? Ability? Suddenly, I was very aware that women were lawyers and judges. That I could be a lawyer too, regardless of what my family told me.  Regardless of my gender.

RIP Justice O'Connor. Thank you from every wide-eyed little girl who watched the news about your nomination and confirmation and swearing in with admiration and wonder and a new sense of purpose.