Kudos to law schools for their increased focus on women in the legal profession. It isn’t always a straightforward path being a woman in this field, or as someone from Texas once referred to me, “a Lady Lawyer.” This happened over a decade ago when I was a relatively unknown alumnus of the Solicitor General’s Office, just beginning my appellate career in private practice. A lawyer invited me to speak at the Fifth Circuit Judicial Conference, and when I inquired about the reason, he frankly stated, “We wanted a Lady Lawyer.” Honestly, I wasn’t offended at all. I am a Lady Lawyer. For better or worse, it’s a label the profession sometimes uses. And I choose to embrace it because my achievements as a lawyer are significantly rooted in incorporating my identity as a woman, wife, and mother into my professional life. This perspective, while shaped by my journey, holds relevance for any aspiring lawyer, including those practicing in Texas.
I entered law school at the University of Texas in 1986, a rather insecure, anxious, and unhappy twenty-one-year-old. My diet mostly consisted of lettuce left to soften in my hot locker until lunchtime. It’s quite remarkable that I not only survived law school but also avoided serious food poisoning. I was broke and romantically unsuccessful. Maybe that’s why I started law school with two main goals: first, to perform well enough to secure a job and avoid poverty; and second, to get married and have a family. These aspirations remained constant and fortunately aligned when I joined Williams & Connolly in Washington, D.C., in 1990. Within months, I had earned enough to clear my credit card debt and met my future husband.
While I now consider myself a lawyer who is also a woman, wife, and mother, I initially believed I needed to separate my legal persona from my feminine side. This was a complete failure. I tried to emulate the successful men (and, at that time, the few successful women) I observed in law firms. It was the early 1990s, so this involved wearing unflattering, somber suits and attempting to be polite, refined, and diplomatic—essentially, trying not to be myself. After having children, I also attempted to embody the perfect mother stereotype outside of work. I volunteered at school events and desperately tried to bake (the results were decidedly inedible). But none of it worked. I remained plagued by self-doubt, constantly second-guessing decisions, unsure of whose advice to follow, and feeling inadequate in all aspects of my life. It became clear that being an ideal lawyer, wife, and mother simultaneously was beyond my capabilities. I realized I needed to accept my whole self and stop trying to fake a compartmentalized existence.
Alt text: Portrait of Lisa Blatt, a successful woman lawyer, reflecting on her career journey.
Today, I’m back at Williams & Connolly, roughly thirty years after my start, and I hold the distinction of having argued more cases before the Supreme Court than any other woman. I often wear bright colors, and my friends’ children are warned against imitating my colorful language. So, how did I get here? Firstly, excelling at law school opened the door to clerking for the incredible Ruth Bader Ginsburg, then a judge on the D.C. Circuit. Judge Ginsburg demonstrated what it meant to be a woman deeply knowledgeable in law, unapologetically stylish, and equally dedicated to her family. She inspired me for years to push myself harder to feel deserving of having clerked for her. I’m sure I fell short during that year; my fellow clerks from Harvard were more mature, better writers, and more sophisticated than I was. For years afterward, I had recurring nightmares about appearing before Justice Ginsburg in the Supreme Court unprepared or uninformed about the case.
Later, I developed more sophistication, writing skills, and maturity 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 remarkable Solicitors General and acting Solicitors General—Walter Dellinger, Seth Waxman, Ted Olson, Paul Clement, Greg Garre, Neal Katyal, and Elena Kagan. The Office was transparent about their reasons for hiring me: it was 1996, they were seeking women, and as I mentioned, I am a Lady Lawyer. When I left that office in 2009, I predicted that female advocates would soon reach parity with men, given that half the Office was female and these women would likely enter private practice, as I did. For the past decade, the Office, under both Democratic and Republican administrations, has consistently hired exceptionally talented women.
However, I was wrong. Parity remains elusive. There’s a significant lack of female Supreme Court advocates. Women typically argue only 15%–18% of Supreme Court cases annually,1 and in 2017, it was a mere 11%.2 Many of these women are government lawyers, public interest lawyers, or public defenders. Last year, only 8% of lawyers in private practice appearing before the Court were women.3 Corporations predominantly hire men. This reality should be alarming, disheartening, or both, especially for women lawyers in Texas and across the nation striving for equal representation in high-stakes litigation.
I don’t have a simple solution, but I can offer some observations. First, Supreme Court advocacy, especially oral arguments, isn’t centered on problem-solving, consensus-building, or mentorship—qualities often stereotypically associated with women. An “argument” is exactly that: it involves confrontational communication and intense verbal sparring. You either win or lose. Or, as I visualize every case I argue, someone is facing potential professional “death,” and I’m determined it won’t be my client. For better or worse, I believe women are perceived as less combative than men. My empirical evidence for this is quite solid: throughout elementary school, playground fights were exclusively among boys.
Second, Supreme Court advocacy demands immense fearlessness and confidence. Again, for better or worse, female lawyers may exhibit less confidence, or project less confidence to clients, compared to male lawyers. In my experience, it’s not so much that women undervalue themselves, but that many men significantly overvalue themselves. This holds true even when some men arguing cases are clearly out of their depth in the Supreme Court. My evidence here is also strong: only women have expressed to me that they could never imagine themselves arguing before the Supreme Court. This confidence gap can be a barrier for women lawyers in Texas and elsewhere seeking to advance in appellate litigation.
Simultaneously, I acknowledge that discrimination exists within the profession, even if largely unintentional. I’ve often wondered: if I were a man, would associates complain about my binder preferences or case highlighting methods, or question my strategic case framing? I’ve received generic, form emails from associates at other firms, whom I’ve never met, asking me to write briefs pro bono. My standard response is: “I generally prefer to be paid for my work, and could you please share the list of men you’ve emailed this request to?” Perhaps these associates were simply following instructions from a partner. Yet, I’ve never received a reply. I’ve witnessed numerous instances where men automatically consider other men for oral argument assignments or firm-wide presentations. Whether these situations stem from intentional discrimination, unconscious biases, or my own paranoia, or a combination, remains unclear. No one readily admits to unconscious biases. Would you?
Here’s how I try to contribute positively. I aim to be a role model for women. I co-lead my practice group at Williams & Connolly with two other women. I encourage women to project strength and confidence, and I offer young women this piece of advice, applicable to aspiring lawyers in Texas and beyond: Stop chasing your passion. Passion is for hobbies; work should be about excellence and results. I don’t want a “passionate” surgeon or airline pilot. I want someone highly skilled who delivers positive outcomes. The same applies to lawyers. I want someone who can answer my questions, win my case, or resolve my legal issues effectively.
I also advise women to be authentic. Focus on what you do well; you’re likely to enjoy tasks where you excel. Telling women to “follow their passion” sets an unrealistically high standard and can lead to disappointment. Work can be demanding and stressful. I see women leaving the profession or quitting jobs not due to lack of passion, but due to lack of success or feeling overwhelmed. You’re better off working where your skills are valued and needed. This gives you more control over your work and schedule, and it’s easier to set boundaries when your contributions are essential. It took me time, but now I confidently tell colleagues to leave me undisturbed when family matters, and to avoid scheduling meetings before 10:00 AM, after 5:00 PM, or on weekends. This work-life balance is crucial for women lawyers in Texas and everywhere.
Understand your strengths and weaknesses. I recognized early on that I wouldn’t be a successful trial lawyer, despite initially dreaming of being the next Brendan Sullivan. My life isn’t solely defined by my work. I find satisfaction in doing something I’m good at that helps others, and the financial compensation is certainly a benefit. While I dislike losing, winning isn’t my ultimate source of fulfillment. In fact, I’m often still frustrated that the client was in a situation requiring litigation in the first place. I reserve my passion for my personal life and hobbies, like coaching high school debate and shopping.
I often tell law students that choosing a job is much like choosing a life partner: you often don’t fully understand what you’re getting into until it’s too late to easily change course. For instance, when seeking a husband, humor, intelligence, and a love for children were my priorities. I never considered aspects like parenting styles, religion, finances, or thermostat control. Similarly, with a profession, it’s almost impossible to know exactly what you want from a job or whether you’ll achieve it, even if you think you know. Starting out, I focused on salary and whether a firm job would keep future options open if I disliked the work. I didn’t think about fundamental questions like: will I receive practical legal training? How demanding will the workload be? How will performance be evaluated? What support systems are in place? Can I balance work with personal needs like exercise, errands, social life, and family? And ultimately, will I be happy? These are vital questions for any lawyer in Texas considering their career path.
Looking back, I’m unsure who I could have asked these questions to, how to phrase them, or even what answers I was seeking. Instead, I chose Williams & Connolly based on a gut feeling that it was a firm deeply committed to its clients. I stayed for three years. While I liked the people, my performance reviews were only average. In hindsight, I was quite clueless and not suited for trial work. I discovered that appellate law allowed me to leverage my strengths in empathy, storytelling, and persistence, without requiring skills in multitasking, organization, and direct confrontation with opposing counsel.
Alt text: Lisa Blatt at Williams & Connolly, highlighting her return to the firm and successful legal career.
I also don’t hide my identity as a woman. I don’t dress, speak, or think like a man. I empathize with my clients. I immerse myself in their situations and understand their businesses. I avoid judgment. I don’t dwell on abstract legal theories. My sole focus is on winning. How do I achieve that? Again, I imagine dire consequences for my client if we lose, and my maternal instincts kick into high gear. I assume my clients are facing undue pressure (which is often true), and my role is to protect and defend them at all costs. This protective approach can be particularly effective for women lawyers in Texas advocating for their clients.
Failure and setbacks are inevitable in life, and the legal profession is no exception. Disappointment and rejection are part of the journey. I’ve experienced more rejections than successes in terms of jobs, clients, and cases. There’s a point where you might need to concede if you’re simply not well-suited for something. But if you possess a valuable skill, never let others’ perceptions limit 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, relevant for any lawyer in Texas navigating their profession. First impressions are crucial. Starting strong can create lasting positive perceptions that can overshadow inevitable mistakes. Recovering from a poor initial impression is far more challenging. Be receptive to constructive criticism. Defensiveness often escalates conflicts and invites further criticism.
Regarding oral advocacy, authenticity is the most effective approach. A court is more likely to trust you if you acknowledge weaknesses in your case or arguments. I’ve always been direct and forthright. I’ve also learned to trust my judgment and instincts more with experience. Many colleagues have advised me to be cautious and avoid bold strategies in briefs and arguments. Thankfully, at critical junctures in my career, I disregarded this advice, and I have no regrets. If I have any regrets, it’s that I didn’t assert myself more often and more directly challenge flawed thinking.
Seek out mentors who genuinely care about your development and who you can consult for advice. Justice Ginsburg was instrumental in my hiring at the Solicitor General’s Office, and I also benefited from the support of colleagues from Williams & Connolly and the Department of Energy. But mentorship goes beyond references. Justice Ginsburg offered invaluable advice about seven years into my tenure at the Solicitor General’s Office when I felt my career had stalled. I expressed my concern about having stayed in the position longer than typical and asked if it was time for a career change. She inquired about my daily work, and after I described it, she gave me unexpected advice: “I think you should stay. You are good at what you do. And you seem happy with your work-life balance.” I was initially disappointed, expecting a more exciting recommendation. However, she was right. Staying in that role for longer was essential for my professional and personal growth.
I also believe that behind every successful woman are supportive men who cleared the path. I couldn’t have managed my career without a husband who supported my ambitions and adjusted his own work to share parenting responsibilities, especially during demanding periods of case preparation. And I might have left legal practice entirely were it not for one exceptional boss: Paul Clement. He was my supervisor for seven years at the Solicitor General’s Office. When Paul was Solicitor General, shortly after my second child was born in 2001, I broached a previously unheard-of concept in that office—working part-time. Paul immediately agreed without hesitation, simply asking me to clarify the details later.
Years later, still at the Solicitor General’s Office, I was considering quitting law altogether to focus on family. I was also mentally exhausted. Paul suggested a leave of absence instead. He said something I’ll always remember: he affirmed my competence in my job. I took his advice, took six months off, and returned part-time. Paul’s flexibility and understanding of the challenges faced by working mothers were pivotal in sustaining my career. For the past eighteen years, I’ve worked part-time. I often refer to Paul as the greatest feminist of his generation. Every woman, especially every woman lawyer in Texas navigating work-life balance, deserves a boss like Paul Clement.
In closing, I urge Justices, Judges, clients, and law firm management to actively hire, support, and encourage talented women in law. Women may not fit the Perry Mason stereotype, and that’s a strength. We often bring creativity, intelligence, persistence, and diligence, and we are effective advocates. So, call me a Lady Lawyer. Just don’t underestimate me in court, or any of the dedicated women lawyers in Texas and beyond who are shaping the legal profession.
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References
[1] See Richard J. Lazarus, Advocacy Matters Before and Below the Supreme Court: Transforming the Court’s Docket?, 62 S.C. L. Rev. 545, 558–59 (2011) (finding women argued 16.8% of Supreme Court cases from 2005–2010). ↩
[2] See Vivia Chen, Where Are All the Female SCOTUS Litigators?, Am. Law. (Oct. 2, 2017), https://www.law.com/americanlawyer/2017/10/02/where-are-all-the-female-scotus-litigators/ (reporting women argued in only 11% of the cases argued at the Supreme Court during the October 2016 term). ↩
[3] See id. (reporting that in the October 2016 term, women lawyers in private practice argued only 8% of Supreme Court cases). ↩
