Top 5 Tips I’d Give My First-Year Self

Sasha Young, LSRJ Summer Intern (’16 Northwestern University School of Law)

This time last year I was reading a million “Top 10 Tips for 1Ls” lists and feeling like most of them were generic and aimed at the masses. So instead of speaking to all 1Ls, I’m going to speak to myself as a 1L. After making it through that experience, here are my top 5 tips for myself this time last year. Here are the honest things I would tell myself, a racial minority from a lower socioeconomic background at a T14 school, who was interested in social justice and not the pipeline to big law.

  1. Don’t talk to the white people about racial stuff. I didn’t come in to school very fixated on race, and I had no idea how much racial tension I’d encounter. I’m not saying that white people won’t understand or be sympathetic. But racism in law school can be very smartly hidden and excused by “logic” and especially competition. You never know who thinks that you’re just there because of affirmative action and not because you “earned” it. Save yourself the distress, and go talk to the diversity counselor or a professor that teaches something like “race and the criminal justice system.” 

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  1. It’s not your responsibility to educate anyone else. For every person who tells you that they “wouldn’t want to be embarrassed to not have earned their spot,” there will be a very well-intentioned White Savior randomly telling you, “It’s so great that you [people] are here.” You’re not there to provide the “minority perspective,” or to teach the rest of the student body about racism. You’re not there to “create a diverse educational experience” for the kids who only have only ever been around people like them. You’re there to learn contracts.brb-saving-africa
  1. Get your tools ready, ya trailblazer. The machine is not-so-gently pushing you through the big law pipeline. So if that’s not part or all of your plan, you’re going to have to figure it out yourself. Surely there are schools out there that support public-interest folks better than others, but you should still talk to everyone. Find as many options as you can. Google. PSJD. Look up attorneys who do what you want to do, and see what steps they took.
  1. Don’t knock it. I know you’re suuuuure that you’re not interested in big law. But trust me; you don’t want to close any doors just yet. A happy work life isn’t just about your substantive work; your work environment is equally (if not more) important. Plus, big law opens some doors in the public interest world, just like it closes others. I had many attorneys tell me that their organizations looked skeptically at candidates who came from big law. Other attorneys told me their organizations like candidates with some big law background because they are well-trained. You’re just going to have to figure out your own path.
  1. If you want to leave, that’s ok. It’s too much time, energy, and money to spend on something you hate. If you want to take a year off, go between 1L and 2L (but ask about 2L OCI eligibility first). If you decide you don’t want to be a lawyer, you’ll find a way to pay off that year of loans. You are not stuck, and if you think you are, you’ll only hate it more. This is still your life; it doesn’t start later.2qklzz4

Good luck, 1L self. Remember, you’re the shit and don’t let anyone tell you different.

Kids Will Be Kids, or Why We Should Stop Forcing Gender On Our Children

Grace Ramsay, LSRJ Summer Reproductive Rights Activist Service Corps (RRASC) Intern (’16, Smith College)

I spent the past weekend at a family friend’s in northern California, with no internet/phone access, and around 40 children ages 5 months – 10 years.  To many — myself included — this sounds like a nightmare.  I have never considered myself a “kid person,” and tend to feel uncomfortable when interacting with children.  My friends always seemed much more natural than I did when communicating with toddlers and pre-schoolers.  I didn’t understand how you could relate to someone whose age was yours divided by four.  So I was completely taken by surprise when I started forming relationships with several of the younger children over the weekend.  Boys and girls alike wanted to hold my hand, to run around together, and to tickle me to death.  Maybe it was because the parents at this weekend are fairly progressive, but I noticed right away that both sons and daughters were held to the same social expectations.  One moment in particular struck me: I was talking to a boy and a girl, and the boy kept interrupting her.  She turned to him, said “Excuse me!” and finished her sentence.  She didn’t let him cut her off again.  During my stay at The Land (the official name of the house upstate), I watched kids of every gender get dirty playing outside, decorate papier mache  bunnies, and sing along to folk music.

It’s no secret that gender socialization exists, and it starts right from when the doctor proclaims, “It’s a girl!”  The gender binary is coded for far more than difference in “biological sex,” a term debated today.  Girls and boys are expected to talk, dress, and play differently.  Gender differences are exaggerated to the point that activities are often gendered — girls get to play dress up, boys get to run around outside.  The socialization of boyhood and girlhood forces children into very distinct pink /blue boxes, leaving little room for gender expression outside of their assigned identity.  This limits cis boys and girls to either “girly” or “boyish” expressions, and completely disregards trans children’s possibility of living authentically.

Fighting gender socialization is a reproductive justice issue.  The right to parent with dignity goes both ways; children deserve to self-express in ways that make them feel comfortable and safe.  Returning to San Francisco after the weekend away, I was bombarded with gendered ads for young people.  Maybe a world without gendering childhood is only possible during a hippie retreat.  But from now on, I’ll keep on helping little kids play however they’d like.

I have two Black sons.

I have two Black sons. Two black sons that I lay awake all night worrying about. I worry about where to live. I worry about where to send them to school. I worry about what college they will choose. I worry about where they will raise their own family. I worry about when they reach driving age. I worry about when they will be old enough to walk alone to school and to friends houses.

I worry about when they will reach a certain height and the police will really start to perceive them as a serious threat. I contemplate where to "hide" them so they can grow up and live and breathe without being slaughtered by ignorant and fearful white police or be taken under by senseless street violence. I worry about what the impact of knowing they are targets will have on their psyche and self esteem. I worry that when I try to empower them I am actually degrading them.

I worry that someone will try to harm them because the media has deemed them expendable for real and for ratings. I worry that they will actually digest my revolutionary rhetoric and willingly be a target for justice because they are fed up and they are righteous. I worry that they will have to worry like this once they become parents.

I lay awake angry that white people with white children do very little to express solidarity with black families. I am angry that white parents do not say out loud and often and to other white families that the killing of black and brown youth is a direct reflection of the way that society views black and brown people in general and therefore a reflection of themselves. I am angry that white families don't have the guts to address white supremacy. I am angry that young black people have to take to the streets and smash on their own communities in order for white families to notice and that those white families will just use it as an excuse to continue to stereotype them. I am tired of being paralyzed.

Because I have black sons I now understand and empathize with the paralyzing fear that the black community has overcome for centuries in this nation in order to breathe another day, to be happy anyways, to strive despite and the reason why they would have to break down their own homes and establishments to make a point. That's not ignorance. That's desperation. That's selflessness. Even if outsiders or community members don't understand. That's saying that "I will give up my freedom, my life, my home so that others will see that it is that serious" and yet white families will still try to label it as something else. They will still hide from being truthful. They will still blame the victims. They will carry on with their own lives without taking any responsibility for their passive participation in immorality. They will purposefully fail to acknowledge the plight of black and brown youth because they are too scared to be honest with themselves. They will delete me as their Facebook friend. They will talk about me behind my back. They will remain the oppressor. And I will stay awake worrying that eventually one of them harm my child.

Back to School

Sasha Young, LSRJ Summer Intern (’16, Northwestern University School of Law)

On my first day of law school orientation I walked in nervous but confident. I was feeling myself a little, having signed my lease the week before, built a million IKEA pieces by myself, and expecting a big deposit of loan money to come in on the first day of the semester. I had everything planned out to the dollar, and I felt accomplished… until I saw all of the social events that were woven into orientation week. A slow panic started to set out over me, and I thought, “Isn’t everyone dead broke after moving? After all, loan disbursement happens next week for everyone, not just me.”

At the end of the first or second day, I went to my Critical Legal Reasoning orientation class, expecting that orientation meant doing introductions and ice-breakers. The professor broke us into groups to discuss the assignment she had sent out the day before. I figured no one had bought their books yet because, well, no one else had any money either. So imagine my surprise when nearly everyone in the class pulled out a sparkly, new $200 textbook.

After class, I told the professor that I’d have to wait until the semester started to get my books, and she told me that if I couldn’t get the money to buy the books, I should borrow it from the library where they also have computers I can use for free. This lady thinks I don’t have a computer? I didn’t come to class the next day. I remember telling my mom on the phone, “It’s like they think I’m the poor black kid who got bussed in.”

“You are,” she told me, “and you might as well get used to it.”

That was my first taste of what law school was going to be like. It is hard for everyone, but I was totally unprepared for the racially, socioeconomically, and culturally tense “learning” environment I was walking into this time last year. As the beginning of the next school year approaches, I am dreading more and more having to go back, but at least this time I’m better prepared:

I’m moving out of Whitelandia, a name I coined not only for the lack of pigment in the area, but for the beer pong and ugly sweater Christmas parties.

I blocked out “study time” in my calendar for salsa dancing. Because there’s no study supplement like Celia.

And I joined the executive boards of the Black Law Student Association and the Latino Law Student Association. It’s up to us to increase representation.

Next year, I will not justify my place that school to a single person. I will continue to fight the urge to respond with my LSAT score when someone comments that I’m “so lucky to be diverse in law school,” or that my call-back at that firm was “for a diversity position, huh?” during On-Campus Interviews next week.

Reproductive justice is about empowerment—empowering women to make the best decisions about our lives against racism and sexism and every other –ism that gets thrown at us every day. Thank god I spent the last 8 weeks listening to that over and over. I’m going to need all the armor I can get to brace the next school year.

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The look I will have walking into class on September 2nd

2L—here goes nothing.

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Special Prosecution of Women Who Use Drugs During Pregnancy Or … Happy One Month Anniversary Tennessee SB 1391 – and Here I Forgot to Get You a Gift.

Gavin Barney, LSRJ Summer Intern (’16, University of California, Berkeley School of Law)

The start of August marked a somewhat ignominious one month anniversary this year: a short thirty-one days earlier Tennessee became the first state in the union to specifically criminalize drug use during pregnancy. On July 1st, the state enacted SB 1391, which enables prosecutors to bring assault charges on the behalf of a fetus against women who use narcotics while pregnant.  Just over a week later, 26-year-old Mallory Loyola became the first target of the law.

In a twisted kind of way, Tennessee’s approach to criminalizing pregnant women is almost refreshing.  The Volunteer State is by no means the only state to treat drug using and drug addicted pregnant women with prison sentences and loss of parental rights instead of … well … treatment. Not by a long shot. Other states prosecute pregnant women at high levels with three main methods: child abuse and endangerment laws, laws prohibiting delivery of illegal drugs to minors, and fetal murder/manslaughter statutes.

Alabama prosecutes pregnant women in a particularly roundabout and unnerving method. Since 2006, Alabama has arrested at least 100 pregnant women for the crime of “exposing their child to a meth lab” using a chemical endangerment law designed to prosecute people who bring children to dangerous locations. To make matters worse, the Alabama Supreme Court deemed it necessary to affirm this usage of the chemical endangerment laws in back to back years – holding in 2014 that the statute’s use of the word “child” “plainly and unambiguously includes unborn children.”

Medical and public health organization such as the American Medical Association (AMA) and the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) have criticized these punitive practices for putting both mothers and fetuses at risk by discouraging women from seeking prenatal care for fear of being turned in.* Additionally, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) has stressed that treatment, not incarceration, must be the approach to these cases.

However, at a broader level, policies like those in Tennessee and Alabama are most horrifying and destructive because they answer the question “are pregnant women still people with full rights?” with an emphatic “hell no they’re not!” Like other personhood-type policies, special criminal prosecutions pits pregnant drug using and addicted women in conflict with their fetus, putting the full force of the law on the fetus’s side (or at least against the woman).

For more information on criminalization of pregnant women, check out LSRJ’s fact sheet on “Regulation of Pregnant Women,” and for LSRJ chapters interested in hosting an event on the issue, LSRJ is releasing an Event Toolkit on Criminalization of Pregnancy and Shackling of Incarnated Pregnant Women.

*Note that fifteen states require health care providers to report suspected drug use during pregnancy.

Beyond Choice, Beyond Our Community

Grace Ramsay, LSRJ Summer Reproductive Rights Activist Service Corps (RRASC) Intern (’16, Smith College)

In the RJ community, word travels fast.  Scary fast.  So after the New York Times posted a well meaning yet misguided article regarding Planned Parenthood’s shift from its pro-choice framework, all of my feeds blew up with conversation, from Twitter, to Facebook, to my LSRJ intern email.  The article seems to credit Planned Parenthood’s recent (actually, three-year old) move away from the phrase “pro-choice” as being innovative and in-touch with today’s women.  The problem is, women of color adopted this stance over two decades ago with the term reproductive justice.  LSRJ took part in a Twitter storm using the hashtags #KnowYourHistory and #StopErasing as a chance to re-educate — or perhaps introduce — folks on the beginnings of beyond-choice reproductive justice activism.  I understand being sick of educating again and again people who are supposed to be our allies, but I also sense the hope of strength in numbers of more people “tuned in” to reproductive justice tenets.   I was surprised when I sat down with some older family members later in the day, family who considers themselves feminists, very involved with current issues regarding reproductive health, etcetera.  They asked me “Why would we want to move away from the word ‘choice’ ?”  I launched into my well-rehearsed explanation of the history of reproductive justice.  They seemed unmoved and I wondered if our differences in approaching the issue were too big to cross.  My family members are white, upper-class, educated folks who can separate out abortion from other RJ issues because of their privilege.  They spent their adult lives advocating for abortion access and birth control — “of course we believe in choice!” For me, it’s about more than abortion and birth control.  For me, it’s about access to high quality preventative healthcare, and childcare to those need it.  It’s about validating queer relationships.  It’s ensuring everyone can live free from sexual abuse and coercion.  It’s about so much more than Pro-Choice vs. Anti-Choice.

Loretta Ross was a guest lecturer at Smith College this past year and I will never forget how moved I was listening to her during my Introduction to Study of Women and Gender class. She explained how choice alone did not make sense of the reproductive oppression that women of color faced.  It was Loretta Ross and that class that made me realize RJ spoke to me more than anything I’d ever studied. We can’t erase barriers to reproductive injustice by only focusing on abortion when large populations of women have been forcibly sterilized, exposed to toxic chemicals in the workplace, or been shackled to a hospital bed in labor.  Why is this difficult to communicate to people who have long taken a pro-choice stance?  I have no answers, but it always seems to come down to power and privilege.  While I’m glad that Planned Parenthood is acknowledging that abortion is but a facet in women’s reproductive freedom, I hope that we will continue to honor the true foremothers of the RJ movement.

WHPA Revives Debate over Abortion Restrictions at Senate Judiciary Committee Hearing

Rhiannon DiClemente, Guest Blogger (’16, Temple University Beasley School of Law)

Early Thursday morning on July 15, 2014, the Senate halls were bustling with interns, staff members, and local advocates eager to witness the Senate Judiciary Committee hearing on S. 1696, also known as the Women’s Health Protection Act of 2013 (WHPA). Attendees, who managed to overflow the room, patiently awaited testimony provided by members of Congress, doctors, and activists, both for and against the bill. In light of the decisions in Hobby Lobby and McCullen, it was reassuring to see politicians taking a long over-due stand to protect a woman’s constitutional right to determine whether and when to bear a child or end a pregnancy.

The bill, sponsored by Sen. Richard Blumenthal (D-CT), addresses medically unnecessary state restrictions claimed to “protect” women’s health. It requires that state legislators prove state laws restricting abortion are in fact medically necessary, rather than politically or ideologically motivated. It also requires that states regulate abortion providers in exactly the same way they do other clinics and doctors who provide comparable services. The bill has its shortcomings, such as failing to address clinic violence, insurance prohibitions, and parental consent laws, as a March 2014 blog post highlights. However, it is an important step forward in combatting laws that have a disparate impact on low-income women, immigrant women, LGBT persons, and women of color.

Why is this bill important? As a LSRJ chapter leader at Temple University School of Law and a summer legal intern at the Center for Health and Gender Equity (CHANGE), I know that despite the fact that we have Roe , the web of state restrictions has decimated abortion access. In states like Louisiana, Texas, and Mississippi, the situation is dire. In 2012, the Mississippi legislature passed HB 1390, mandating that any physician performing abortions in the state have admitting privileges at an area hospital (an unnecessary practice). During the Senate committee hearing, Dr. Willie Parker, a board-certified OB/GYN and the last physician providing abortion care in Mississippi, testified that despite 13 attempts to gain admitting privileges at regional hospitals, not one of his requests has been granted. This is just one example of how seemingly ‘safety-oriented’ legislation is really aimed to shut down clinics and restrict abortion access.

At the hearing, Rep. Janet Chu (D-CA27) testified that between 2011 and 2013, states passed over 200 restrictions blocking access to abortion services. This translates to more restrictions on women’s health care in three years than in the entire preceding decade. Sen. Tammy Baldwin (D-WI) highlighted that these restrictions have forced women to travel greater distances and endure longer wait times to obtain an abortion. “The effect of these laws is that a woman’s constitutional right now depends on her zip code,” stated Rep. Chu, “We need laws that put women’s health and safety first – not politics.”

By speaking out against arbitrary restrictions that do not reflect medical best practice standards, supporters of S. 1696 have declared their respect for the constitutional right to access abortion services and trust in a woman’s ability to make the best choices for her own health and life.

Full testimony can be found here.

New Study Debunks Six of the Worst “Myths” About Sex-Selective Abortion

Gavin Barney, LSRJ Summer Intern (’16, University of California, Berkeley School of Law)

The documentary It’s a Girl was released in 2012 to immediate acclaim in traditionally progressive and pro-choice corners – the Amnesty International Film Festival made it an official selection and Ms. Magazine called the movie “unflinching” in its positive review. Fully titled It’s a Girl: the Three Deadliest Words in the World, the film describes the problem of son preference in India and China, telling how, tragically, as many girls are “eliminated” yearly in those countries as are born in the United States. However, the documentary was not quite what it appeared: a 2013 article in Slate uncovered that It’s a Girl was produced with strong, but well hidden, ties to an organization called Harvest Media Ministry that makes anti-choice videos. The film also has a subtle, but real anti-abortion message. The really troubling thing about It’s a Girl is not necessarily who produced it however – anti’s are not automatically incapable of producing material of worth. Rather, the problem is how films like this fit into the narrative of another issue here in the United States: the recent onslaught of “sex-selective abortion” ban legislation that impose criminal penalties on the performance of an abortion sought because of the sex of the fetus.

CaptureLast week I attended a talk coinciding with the release of a new report on the issue of sex-selective abortion bans called “Replacing Myths with Facts.” Produced by Advancing New Standards in Reproductive Health (ANSIRH), National Asian Pacific American Women’s Forum (NAPAWF), and the University of Chicago, the study identifies six common and damaging myths and misconceptions that have allowed sex-selective abortion bans to worm their way into so many legislative sessions. Chief amongst these myths is that male-biased sex ratios “are proof that sex-selective abortions are occurring,” (spoiler: there are other major factors at play) and that the “primary motivation behind laws banning sex-selective abortion in the United States is to prevent gender-based discrimination” (another spoiler: it’s really about restricting access to abortions in general).

The speakers began their presentation by introducing the room to It’s a Girl. It was suggested at the talk, and I am inclined to agree, that one of the reasons both that It’s a Girl has been a hit among pro-choice people and that anti-choice organizations and politicians have so aggressively pushed sex-selective abortion bans is that the issue of sex selection is particularly uncomfortable for pro-choice folks. The notion that people would be actively choosing boy babies over girl babies, and acting on those choices, is disturbing to any person with even the broadest feminist beliefs. Additionally, recent technological innovations that potentially open the door to allowing people to use artificial reproductive technologies to choose traits, including sex, for so-called “designer babies” make questions of sex preference more current and significant. In light of these realities, it is not terribly surprising that many normally pro-choice people may be willing to start carving out exceptions to abortion access – and it is equally unsurprising that racial stereotypes and misconceptions have played a major role.

This, of course, is where “Replacing Myths with Facts” comes in. In its introduction, “Replacing Myths” explains how proponents of sex-selective abortion bans focus on “the problem of ‘missing women’ in China and India in particular” to justify their policies. They rely on and reinforce stereotypes that people in the Asian and Pacific Island community bring these presences and practices to the US. This is myth #5 that “Replacing Myths” debunks: the most recent studies have found that foreign born Chinese, Indians, and Koreans actually “have more girls overall than white Americans.” This is a particularly important myth to debunk because the way the laws are designed – putting the onus on the health care provider to deny abortions based on son preference with the threat of criminal sanctions –opens the door to doctors generally denying API women abortions out of stereotype fueled fear.

Sex-selective abortion bans have become an extremely prevalent tactic to limit abortion access, and the fact that these policies are based heavily on racist stereotypes and spread by playing on people’s racial misconceptions make this an issue of particular import to supporters of reproductive justice. I encourage you to read “Replacing Myths with Facts” and to inoculate yourself as best you can against the lies around sex-selective abortion.

Nouns and Adjectives and Why Neither Addresses the Issue

Sasha Young, LSRJ Summer Intern (’16, Northwestern School of Law)race-391x260

Last weekend at LSRJ’s annual Leadership Convention I co-moderated the Women of Color Issue Caucus. The name struck me. I hadn’t realized that we were called “people of color” now.  Minority? Non-white? Person of color? The landscape of terms to describe race in America is full of landmines, and it looks like “people of color” is the new standard of political correctness. I find this to be problematic in some significant ways. First of all, I don’t think it’s any better or worse than most other terms. Secondly, I think it still fits into the same structure of white being the default or standard. Lastly, it prevents some people from doing the legwork of thinking about race and its complexities.

Whenever someone uses the term “person of color,” they are referring to a group of people who don’t benefit from white privilege. Many people feel like the existing terms describing a group of oppressed-and/or-marginalized-in-one-way-or-another people have been insufficient: “minority” could be technically incorrect in certain places or situations, and “non-white” defines a group by what it’s not. “Minority” might not technically be correct, but neither is “person of color” if you’re referring to a fair-skinned Asian woman who might be the same color as a white person. Race is not just about pigment.

Non-white is probably the most technically precise word to use, but it defines a group as a negative, but in another way so does “person of color.” The default “person” is not “of color” unless you specify so. The frame certainly isn’t that we have “people of color,” and then “people lacking color.” “Person of color” feels like it’s expressing the same concept—that the default is white unless expressed otherwise. Also, it doesn’t go without saying that everyone who isn’t white doesn’t have the same experience. Clumping us all together just supports the structure of supremacy.

Loretta Ross says the term “woman of color” emerged from a racially diverse group of women as a political term denoting solidarity against white supremacy. I can appreciate the political nature, but I think the phrase is often used as a safe word for white people nervous about discussing race. Race is difficult to discuss for everyone, and it’s not clear how to avoid offending anyone. But that difficulty isn’t fixed by using “color” as the object of a prepositional phrase instead of an adjective. I think that finding one word or phrase which we—persons with very different experiences not marked by white privilege—can sign off on is simplistic. There is no simple way around the question, “Who exactly am I referring to?” White people can’t hide behind “people of color” if they are actually referring to black people and Latinos defending their place in law school as more than waiters or gardeners, or Arabs and Muslims constantly being targets of suspicion, or non-white people who are allowed into a “closed” space without white people. The answer to the question “what term is ok to describe people marginalized by white privilege?” is predictable: it depends.

Race is problematic; language describing it is problematic. “People of color” belongs on the same list as “racial minorities,” “racially marginalized people,” and “non-white people.” They are all phrases that can be appropriate, inappropriate, offensive, or fine depending on how and by whom they are used.

 

See this and this for more.

LSReJuvenated after the Annual Leadership Institute

Grace Ramsay, LSRJ Summer Reproductive Rights Activist Service Corps (RRASC) Intern (’16, Smith College)

Ever experience “social justice burnout”?  When your day-to-day is filled with researching and discussing painful topics, it can feel daunting, or even impossible, to continue in RJ work.  The 2014 Leadership Institute gave me new energy to approach the rest of this internship and to continue my work in reproductive justice.  After a whirlwind weekend starting and ending with the cute/ creepy Virgin America safety music video, the LSRJ national office is back in Oakland.  The LSRJ seventh annual Leadership Institute, hosted at George Washington University School of Law, was beyond successful from both the national office side and the attendees’ side.  I was excited to represent an organization and wear the “LSRJ hat,” while also wearing the “attendee hat” which  meant that I could check in with folks who I could consider my peers for honest feedback of the conference.  Everyone I had the chance to talk to loved the weekend as much as I did! Here were my five favorite parts of the 2014 LSRJ Leadership Institute:

1) Panels and workshops.  Of course, this was the main content of the LI, and I had the opportunity to sit in on several workshops as the point-person.  During the presentations – which varied from ways to message around abortion, to a how-to for strategic LSRJ chapter planning, to an introduction to policymaking – I got to absorb knowledge from experts across the spectrum of RJ advocacy.  Judging from how engaged our attendees were, they also appreciated the breadth of knowledge that they can now take back to their LSRJ chapters.

2) Experiencing behind the scenes facilitation.  There’s so much that goes into facilitating a conference, and I only played a small part in making sure this LI went smoothly.  Working with the national office to ensure every detail was set made me appreciate how much forethought and planning has to go into organizing successful events.  From handing water bottles to speakers, to timing each workshop, I was only able to successfully complete my part of the work because of the effort that Keely and Samantha had already put in.  Y’all are awesome!

3) Giving a presentation to a large audience.  Part of my responsibility at the LI was presenting one of LSRJ’s event toolkits to the chapter leaders.  Because of the preparation work we all put in beforehand, I felt 100% comfortable and in control of the materials I presented.  As I said to my mom on the phone afterwards, now I understand why you’re supposed to prepare presentations instead of winging it!  I’m hoping that my presentation of the sex-ed event toolkit, along with Gavin and Sasha’s event toolkit presentations, helped chapter leaders better understand how to put on successful events on their campuses.

4) Connecting with LSRJ folks. One person I spoke with this weekend called the LSRJ network a “family.”  She said the term networking is too scary and inaccessible to describe the connections formed during the LI.  I appreciated that so many law students were willing to engage with me – a lowly undergrad!- and suggest different organizations I should check out in the upcoming semester.  Like I said before, I was lucky enough to both represent internsLSRJ and interact with attendees in a more interpersonal sense.

5) Bonding with the office!  There’s something about flying across the coast that makes a national office closer.  I can’t speak for all of us, but I have the feeling everyone had a more-than-fun time together, especially us interns.  Yes, this is a Snapchat:

Thanks to everyone who attended the 2014 Leadership Institute, and I hope that everyone there found it beyond worthwhile!