Kudos to law schools for their increasing focus on the experiences of women in the legal profession. It’s undeniable that navigating this field as a woman presents unique challenges. As someone from Texas once referred to me, being a “Lady Lawyer” is a distinct identity within the legal world. This term, used over a decade ago as I transitioned from the Solicitor General’s Office to private appellate practice, wasn’t offensive. In fact, I embrace it. The truth is, the legal profession does categorize us, and I choose to own that label. My journey and achievements as a lawyer are intrinsically linked to my identity as a woman, a wife, and a mother. These roles are not separate from my professional life; they are integral to my success as a Lawyer In Law.
My entry into law school at the University of Texas in 1986 was marked by insecurity and anxiety. As a twenty-one-year-old, my diet consisted primarily of lettuce left to wilt in my locker – a testament to my unhealthy habits and general unhappiness at the time. It’s remarkable that I not only survived law school but also avoided any serious food-borne illness. Financially strained and romantically unsuccessful, I began law school with two primary goals: securing a job to escape poverty and finding a husband and starting a family. These aspirations remained constant and fortunately, began to materialize when I joined Williams & Connolly in Washington, D.C. in 1990. Within months, I was earning enough to eliminate my credit card debt and, more importantly, met the man who would become my husband.
Initially, I believed that to succeed as a lawyer, I needed to compartmentalize my life, separating my professional persona from my personal, feminine identity. This approach was a complete misstep. In the early 1990s, the model for success in law firms appeared to be predominantly male (and the few successful women seemed to emulate male behaviors). I attempted to conform, dressing in uncomfortable, drab suits and striving to be overly polite and diplomatic – essentially, trying to be anyone but myself. Later, as a mother, I tried to embody stereotypical motherhood outside of work, volunteering at school events and even attempting baking, with disastrous results. This fragmented approach left me feeling inadequate and uncertain. The pursuit of being the ideal lawyer, wife, and mother simultaneously proved impossible. I realized that true success lay in embracing my whole self, integrating all facets of my identity instead of trying to live a compartmentalized existence.
Alt text: Lisa Blatt, a successful woman lawyer, speaking at a Texas Law Review event about women in law.
Today, three decades after my initial stint, I am back at Williams & Connolly. I’ve had the distinct honor of arguing more cases before the Supreme Court than any other woman. My wardrobe now features vibrant colors, and I’ve become known for a somewhat colorful vocabulary that amuses (and occasionally alarms) friends’ children. This transformation begs the question: how did I get here? My success story begins with my legal education, which opened the door to clerking for the remarkable Ruth Bader Ginsburg, then a judge on the D.C. Circuit. Judge Ginsburg exemplified how to be a woman deeply respected in law, unapologetically stylish, and devoted to her family. Her example motivated me for years, pushing me to work harder to feel worthy of my clerkship. Despite my efforts, I often felt inadequate compared to my co-clerks, graduates of Harvard, who seemed more mature, sophisticated, and skilled writers. For years, I experienced anxiety dreams of appearing before Justice Ginsburg in the Supreme Court, unprepared and uninformed.
My skills and confidence grew during my thirteen years as an Assistant to the Solicitor General at the Department of Justice. There, I argued twenty-seven cases before the Supreme Court, serving under seven exceptional Solicitors General and acting Solicitors General. The Solicitor General’s Office was transparent about their reasons for hiring me in 1996: they sought female lawyers, and I was, indeed, a “Lady Lawyer.” When I left in 2009, I optimistically predicted that female advocates would soon reach parity with men, given the high proportion of women in the Solicitor General’s Office at that time. For the subsequent decade, under both Democratic and Republican administrations, the Office consistently hired exceptionally talented women lawyers.
However, my prediction of parity was inaccurate. True gender equality in Supreme Court advocacy remains elusive. Women continue to represent a small fraction of Supreme Court advocates, arguing only 15%–18% of cases annually. In 2017, this figure was a mere 11%. Notably, many of these women are government lawyers, public interest lawyers, and public defenders. Last year, women in private practice constituted only 8% of lawyers appearing before the Court. Corporations overwhelmingly favor male advocates. These statistics should be concerning, if not alarming.
Finding a simple solution is challenging, but I can offer some observations on why women lawyers are still underrepresented in Supreme Court advocacy and high-profile litigation roles. Firstly, Supreme Court advocacy, particularly oral argument, emphasizes adversarial communication rather than collaborative problem-solving or mentorship, attributes often stereotypically associated with women. A legal “argument” is precisely that – a combative exchange where winning and losing are starkly defined. As I often frame it, in every case, someone’s legal position will suffer a critical blow, and my aim is to ensure it’s not mine. Perhaps, for various societal and psychological reasons, women may present as less overtly combative than men in these high-stakes adversarial settings. My anecdotal experience supports this: playground fights in elementary school were almost exclusively a male domain.
Secondly, Supreme Court advocacy demands immense fearlessness and self-assurance. Again, whether due to societal conditioning or inherent differences, female lawyers may exhibit less overt confidence, or project less confidence to clients, compared to their male counterparts. In my experience, it’s not so much that women undervalue their abilities, but that some men often oversell theirs, even when their qualifications for Supreme Court arguments are questionable. Interestingly, only women have expressed to me outright that they could never envision themselves arguing before the Supreme Court, highlighting a potential confidence gap.
Alt text: Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Lisa Blatt, former clerk, showcasing the importance of mentorship for women lawyers.
Simultaneously, systemic gender bias undeniably persists within the legal profession, often unintentionally. I’ve frequently questioned whether certain criticisms I’ve received – about binder preparation methods or case highlighting preferences, or even strategic judgment – would be directed at a male lawyer. I’ve received unsolicited, generic emails from associates at other firms, asking me to contribute to briefs pro bono. My standard response is to inquire about their outreach to male lawyers, a query that invariably goes unanswered. I’ve witnessed numerous instances where men instinctively consider other men for oral argument assignments or high-visibility presentations. It’s difficult to definitively attribute these occurrences to intentional discrimination, unconscious biases, or mere paranoia – perhaps all three are at play. Few readily admit to harboring implicit biases, a phenomenon in itself.
My approach to addressing these disparities is to actively serve as a role model for aspiring women lawyers. At Williams & Connolly, I co-lead my practice group with two other accomplished women. I encourage women to project strength and confidence, and I offer young women pragmatic career advice: Stop chasing “passion.” Passion is for hobbies, not necessarily for professional work. I want a competent, results-oriented surgeon or pilot, not a “passionate” one. The same applies to lawyers. Clients need lawyers who can provide answers, win cases, and resolve legal problems effectively.
I also advise women to embrace authenticity. Focus on developing and leveraging your strengths. You’re likely to find satisfaction in work you do well. The pervasive “follow your passion” mantra sets an unreasonably high bar, often leading to disappointment and burnout, especially for women who disproportionately bear household and family responsibilities. Work is inherently demanding. Women often leave the legal profession or downshift their careers not from lack of passion, but from lack of sustainable success or support. It’s more strategic to seek roles where your skills are valued and needed. This empowers you to set boundaries and control your schedule more effectively. It took me time, but I now confidently prioritize my family, telling colleagues to respect my time and not schedule meetings before 10:00 AM, after 5:00 PM, or on weekends.
Self-awareness is crucial. Recognize your strengths and weaknesses. I acknowledged early on that trial law wasn’t my forte, despite initial aspirations to emulate figures like Brendan Sullivan. My life isn’t solely defined by my profession. I derive satisfaction from using my skills to help clients, and the financial rewards are certainly welcome. While I dislike losing, winning isn’t my primary source of fulfillment. Often, I’m simply frustrated that litigation was necessary in the first place. I reserve my true passions for my personal life – my family, hobbies like coaching debate, and yes, shopping.
To law students, I often compare job selection to choosing a spouse: you enter with limited foresight. When seeking a partner, I prioritized humor, intelligence, and a love for children. I overlooked crucial aspects like parenting philosophies, finances, or household preferences. Similarly, in choosing a legal career path, fully understanding your needs and whether a job will meet them is almost impossible upfront. Initially, salary and future career flexibility were my main concerns. I didn’t consider fundamental questions: Will I receive practical legal training? What will the workload be? How will performance be evaluated? What support systems are available? Can I balance work with personal well-being, relationships, and family aspirations? Will I find genuine happiness?
In retrospect, I’m unsure who could have provided these answers or even how to formulate the right questions. My decision to join Williams & Connolly was largely instinctual – a sense that it was a firm deeply committed to its clients. My first tenure lasted three years. While I valued the people, my performance reviews were lukewarm. I lacked practical experience and wasn’t suited for trial work. I discovered that appellate law better aligned with my strengths in empathy, narrative construction, and persistence, minimizing the need for multitasking, organizational prowess, and direct courtroom confrontation.
I also don’t try to suppress my identity as a woman. I don’t adopt a masculine style of dress, speech, or thought. Empathy is central to my approach. I immerse myself in my clients’ perspectives and understand their businesses. I avoid judgment and focus solely on achieving the best possible outcome. My driving motivation remains: someone’s legal position is at risk, and I am determined to protect my client. This is where my protective instincts, perhaps rooted in maternal instincts, become amplified. I perceive my clients as facing undue pressure, and my role is to defend them fiercely.
Setbacks and disappointments are inherent in life and in legal careers. Rejection and failure are inevitable. I’ve faced more rejections than successes in job applications, client pitches, and case acquisitions. Knowing when to concede and redirect efforts is important. However, if you possess a valuable skill, don’t allow others’ limited perceptions to define you. To paraphrase 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 career tips I’ve learned. First impressions are critical. Start strong, and your initial good work will create goodwill that can buffer inevitable mistakes. Recovering from a poor start is much harder. Be receptive to constructive criticism. Defensiveness invites conflict and negativity.
Regarding oral advocacy, authenticity is paramount. Credibility is strengthened by acknowledging weaknesses in your case or the record. I’ve always been direct and candid in my communication. As I’ve gained experience, I’ve learned to trust my judgment and instincts more. While some advisors advocate for cautious approaches, I’ve often benefited from bold strategies, ignoring cautious advice at pivotal moments. My regrets are not for taking risks, but for times I didn’t assert my convictions strongly enough.
Seek out mentors who genuinely care about your growth and offer reliable guidance. Justice Ginsburg’s support was instrumental in my hiring at the Solicitor General’s Office. I also benefited from advocates within Williams & Connolly and the Department of Energy. Mentorship extends beyond references. Years into my tenure at the Solicitor General’s Office, feeling stagnant, I sought Justice Ginsburg’s advice. I expressed my concern about exceeding the typical tenure and asked if it was time for a career change. After I described my daily responsibilities, her response surprised me: “I think you should stay. You are good at what you do. And you seem to value the work-life balance it provides.” Initially disappointed by what seemed like a tepid response – I had hoped for a recommendation towards a “sexy, new, and thrilling opportunity” – I later realized her wisdom. Staying at the Solicitor General’s Office for several more years was crucial for my professional and personal development. It was, in retrospect, the best career decision I could have made.
Finally, I often say that behind every successful woman lawyer in law, there are supportive men who cleared the path. My career would have been impossible without a husband who actively supported my professional ambitions, sometimes prioritizing my career needs over his own to manage parenting responsibilities during critical periods of trial preparation or Supreme Court arguments. And I might have left legal practice entirely were it not for Paul Clement, my boss for seven years at the Solicitor General’s Office. As Solicitor General, shortly after the birth of my second child in 2001, I broached the then-unconventional idea of part-time work. Paul immediately agreed, demonstrating extraordinary flexibility and support for work-life balance, a decision that profoundly impacted my career trajectory.
Years later, contemplating leaving the Solicitor General’s Office altogether due to burnout, Paul suggested a leave of absence instead. His words, “You are good at your job,” were incredibly validating and persuasive. I took a half-year leave and returned part-time, a schedule I’ve maintained for the past eighteen years. Paul’s understanding and flexibility were instrumental in sustaining my career. I often refer to Paul Clement as the greatest feminist of his generation. Every woman lawyer deserves a boss like Paul Clement.
To Justices, Judges, clients, and law firm leaders: actively recruit, support, and champion talented women in law. We may not fit the Perry Mason stereotype, nor should we. Women lawyers often bring unique strengths – creativity, intelligence, resilience, and diligence – and, importantly, we demonstrably win cases. So, call me a Lady Lawyer. But never underestimate me in court.
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