By Rebekah D. Mason
I’ve been talking for a while about ways to uplift Black, Latina, Indigenous, and Asian women, and gender queer people of color, at varying intersections of the practice of law. In this country, a nation built on the backs of enslaved & oppressed peoples, what does justice mean for us, especially lawyers, law graduates, law students, paralegals and others engaged in the practice of law who witness and experience breakdowns of the systems of law all along the way? I know it sounds really heavy, because it is heavy.
As members of historically marginalized groups, who have engaged in or are engaging in the legal profession, let’s talk about what justice and joy mean to us. I want to explore conversations in solidarity, with each of you, and all of us, where we can have hard conversations about what is lacking in our justice and joy buckets while we uplift each other and find our own moments of joy in justice. Maybe we will find justice through our shared and celebrated moments of joy?
More than a year ago I sent a detailed survey to a few friends as a way to wrap my head around getting this project started. While I am open to what this project will look like, the creative in me is moving toward Podcast interviews with other women and gender queer people of color at various intersections of the practice of law and ultimately a play and or a book. What it will actually become, I remain open to. Our time is precious, and I am on the look out for folks who can give thirty minutes to discuss the project or who can make time to be interviewed or who have some other way to support the project. I am open and grateful.
I recently wrote about Mexodus, a live looped musical created by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson, which weaves an inspiring story about the lesser known underground railroad that ran south to Mexico. At the heart of the show is both a warning and a comfort, todos estamos juntos en esto; we are all in this together. Whether or not we can readily admit to it, we really are all in this together. And when they sang: “Why is it that the caged bird still sings? Because he is prepping for the day that he will be free!” I was left breathless!
Later, Nygel breaks the fourth wall and notes that he is not living out his ancestors’ wildest dreams, but instead is living out his ancestors’ wildest impossibilities.
I think we all are too, even if it often feels otherwise. I’d love to talk about our stories and share and uplift them in any way we can. Talk to me if you are interested in this Justice through Joy: Labor of Love passion project of mine.
