During my first welcome reception at Osgoode, I vividly remember a male articling student at the hosting firm telling me, completely unprompted, why there aren’t as many women in law as men.
“I guess it’s all the harassment,” he said, laughing nervously. “It can be hard, you know. With sexism.”
At the time, I was irritated that he had acted as if this was some sort of revelation to me. Of course there’s sexism in law, I thought. Everyone knows that.
It never occurred to me at the time to interrogate how I knew there was rampant sexism in law, despite being an undergraduate student who had never attended law school or held any kind of legal job. Law’s reputation as a profession that can be incredibly hostile to women precedes it.
A former colleague told me that as a student, she was once asked to go into a private room during an articling event with an older male lawyer. She was terrified of what he would do once they were alone, but equally afraid of seeming ‘difficult’ and not receiving a job offer as a result.
This pattern begins in law school. I would be willing to bet that almost every non-male law student has experienced misogyny in some form by a male peer. Some of it is overt, intentional, and malicious. More often, it is unthinking. I cannot count how many times I have been spoken over by a male peer, how many times a male peer has “mansplained” a concept from class to me, or how many times one of my male peers has contributed a thought that is shockingly sexist during class. I am not going to share specific examples from my experience, because I have no interest in publicly criticizing individuals. That being said, the fact that the women in my former section could readily identify several instances where this behaviour occurred in class last year speaks to how significant the problem is.
This behaviour poses challenges for the women and non-binary folks that are subject to it. It is difficult to continuously call it out. It is draining to have to explain to someone how and why their behaviour is disrespectful. It is especially aggravating given the subtext underlying misogynistic behaviour in the classroom. At its core, what it says is I am more comfortable in this space than you, and I am more qualified to be here.
And this is why it’s so infuriating to see some of my male colleagues post tributes to feminist icon Ruth Bader Ginsburg without any kind of introspection. RBG’s legacy as an advocate for gender equality is incredibly powerful. Her story is one of overcoming adversity in order to rise to one of the most influential positions available in the legal profession. It is not insignificant that much of the adversity that RBG faced came from her male peers throughout university, law school, and her professional life.
And that is why I’m asking my male colleagues to reflect on how they treat their non-male peers in class. Ask if it’s consistent with what you’ve posted on Facebook and Instagram, mourning the loss of a powerful figure in the fight for gender equality. Ask whether you make the classroom a safe space for your non-male peers, whether you are willing to listen and learn from them, and whether you are willing to accept that your actions may have caused harm.
I can think of no better tribute to RBG’s legacy than learning to be an ally, in law school, in the professional world, and in your personal lives.