I attended law school seeking the degree, but not the profession. I consider myself an “accidental lawyer” and I never actually intended to make myself a part of the legal community. As a first-generation lawyer, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I believed that I would eventually find myself in the work and amongst the people. I arrived into the profession and glanced around expectantly only to realize that I couldn’t find myself anywhere. I felt like something was missing and I became quickly aware of all the ways I simply didn’t fit.
For the better part of a decade, I tried my best to contort myself into the “lawyer” and “professional” that I thought I was supposed to be. Despite my best efforts, however, I went home most days feeling like a misfit. I didn’t belong in the courtroom. I didn’t belong in an office 20 stories above 17th Street. I didn’t belong at the cocktail parties and networking events. I didn’t even belong in the clothes I wore every day to work. I simply couldn’t contort myself out of the truth: this profession wasn’t built for me.
So, what’s a legal misfit to do? I tried my hardest to quit and leave a profession that didn’t seem to want me in it. But every time I took a step toward the exit, something kept pulling me back. Maybe, I thought, we’re all misfits in our own ways. What if this isn’t a party of one but a party of many? What if the profession could embrace its rebels rather than repel them? And so, I began looking to build my own islands of misfit lawyers—places for the loners, the rebels, the empaths, the cynical optimists, the productive narcissists, the misunderstood, and the ones who feel like they simply aren’t seen, heard, or valued by the culture of the traditional legal profession.
Over time I realized that Colorado’s legal community has many self-proclaimed misfits, each of them seeking community, opportunity, and authenticity. Together, we form places of refuge, small islands, where those who don’t fit the mold can find belonging. For those who embrace their misfit identity, most days on the island are great. We hold space for everyone, we confront our mistakes, we acknowledge our fears and preconceptions, and we value the humanity of the people in our community. Perhaps we can all learn something from the misfits in our community—especially in the areas of our work, where so many lawyers struggle to maintain authenticity and joy.
I take great pride in my identity as a legal misfit—an identity that I think is tolerated by most in the spirit of professionalism and civility. But as I continue to contemplate the question of what we owe to each other in our legal community, I wonder: Is professionalism really all that we really owe to each other?
In this adversarial profession, the bar association is one of the only sacred spaces where we can see one another not as enemies but as teammates. As any former athlete can attest, civility and professionalism can only take a team so far. It is trust and love for one another that leads teams to success. Maybe what we owe to each other is something more than civility. Perhaps what we owe each other is love.
So, what gets in the way? We have this bar, this container where we can lean into connection and take off the personas and costumes of our professional battles. Yet even in this space we struggle to love, to give grace, and to trust. Even in this container we engage as adversaries and we remain obligated to the tenets of our profession that require us to be exhausted, pejorative, isolated, and polarized at all times. When we operate solely from a place of adversarial exhaustion, we can’t actually think generatively or act innovatively to make this profession a place where everyone can belong and succeed. The misfits think we can do better. We believe that in this unique space we can choose to reject the professional forces that drive us apart. Maybe what we owe each other is radical resistance.
If you haven’t figured it out yet, we misfits ultimately want to raise a little hell. If we see something that isn’t working toward the highest and best purpose of the profession, we are going to call it out. That doesn’t mean we always get it right. But we don’t believe in letting perfection be the enemy of progress, and where we need to have hard conversations, we absolutely will. So perhaps what we owe each other is honesty.
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In the spirit of love, resistance, and honesty, I invite you to embrace your inner misfit and join in the work of creating professional communities and cultures where everyone can thrive. Afterall, discovering your unique gifts is part of what makes this journey worth the effort. Welcome to the island!
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