My first month of law school felt like a whirlwind. The dense readings, countless panel discussions, lengthy case briefs, innumerable networking events, late nights and early mornings, all while navigating the transition from small Midwest suburbs to the big city, has certainly tested my will despite the infancy of my law school journey. As the saying goes, however, pressure is a privilege. It truly is a blessing to be living out an answered prayer. Despite the many moving parts, I’ve found solace in the moments of stillness (although rare) where I am able to reflect on the journey to get where I am today. More importantly, those moments allow me to refocus my attention to the core of my “why” when it comes to law school.
For me, it began with a passion for social justice and history stemming from my upbringing. My parents instilled in me the importance of educational empowerment as an integral aspect of success and upward mobility. In public school, I had a surface-level curriculum regarding civil rights and the disenfranchisement of Black Americans, so I decided to educate myself. I would ask my parents for books about Black history for Christmas and learn as much as possible about the civil rights movement. As I grew older and began to understand my place in America as a young Black man, I realized that the issues I had read so much about were still real-world problems in my community that I sought to understand through academic and policy work. I can’t point to a specific moment that confirmed the kind of policy area I wanted to pursue, but there are moments that were especially impactful in my development as an aspiring changemaker.
Prior to law school, I worked first as a Legislative Fellow to Ohio State Senator Paula Hicks-Hudson, then as the Senior Legislative Aide to Ohio Minority Senate Leader Nickie J. Antonio. Last October, our office coordinated a bi-partisan prison visit at Ross Correctional Institution to gain further insight into Senate Bill 134, a bill Leader Antonio introduced that aims to abolish the death penalty in the state of Ohio. Witnessing Black incarcerated men of similar age to me in chains with an almost despondent look in their eyes left me in a state of shock and numbness too complex to describe.
My background in Africana studies prepared me intellectually for what I was to witness, but the stark reality of finally putting a face and story behind the statistics was harrowing. Black people make up about 13-14% of the U.S population, but over a third of the incarcerated population. Many of these individuals’ stories attest to abusive upbringings, a rushed trial, and an overworked public defender, all pointing to a flawed justice system where justice is reserved for those with enough money and the right skin color.
Whether it was the incarcerated individuals I spoke with on death row or the courageous women I worked with who spoke of their experiences as survivors of human trafficking during testimony for Senate Bill 178, every story I heard was powerful. However, it often fell on the deaf ears of those working within a system that had already decided their fate before they were born. A fate that was largely determined by the neighborhoods they grew up in, the schools they attended, and their socioeconomic status. For many of them, their lives reflected a vicious cycle of despair and poverty, where the goal was not to live freely, but to survive. And what was most frightening was the normalization of a flawed and inherently discriminatory system built by ignorant ideologies and perpetuated by stigma used to keep the oppressed in an incessant state of subjugation. In this current moment, where the progress built upon centuries of civil rights and social justice work is increasingly threatened by policies and rhetoric that undermine this work, lawyers can be agents of change. We must combat these attacks with urgency, filled with the passion and leadership necessary to fight the “good fight.”
Through my community activist work in the non-profit sector, and then in my public servant role in state government, I’ve learned the value of a shared and just cause. It’s more than simply recognizing the need for systemic changes to our criminal justice system. It’s about actively working towards tangible and effective solutions, deeply rooted in a spirit of servant leadership. These lessons are what I seek to gain throughout my time at BC Law. Through our many clinics and externship opportunities, I want to work on behalf of system-impacted individuals, utilizing an intersectional approach that recognizes the mutually reinforcing nature of various forms of inequality, which must be analyzed simultaneously to better understand the root causes of these issues. It is my goal that, by incorporating intersectionality through rehabilitative-centered representation and advocacy, I will help current changemakers in the field as we collectively strive to combat injustice by making the criminal justice system more equitable and accessible for all.
Part of being a changemaker is learning how to become comfortable being uncomfortable. Working as a super-minority in the Ohio legislature was not easy. To be candid, it really sucked sometimes. However, I learned that while we may not possess the political power to enact certain legislation, it’s essential to stay committed and leverage what we can actually do.
This came through my interactions with people. Whether it was helping to secure SNAP benefits for a family in need or listening to the concerns of various advocacy groups that visited us at the Statehouse, I knew the importance of ensuring people felt heard. I wanted to remind them that, despite the current political state, I was there to help serve them. This is what draws me to law. So many people have been left without a voice or feel as if they are powerless within our criminal justice system. Empathy, understanding, compassion, and a heart grounded in servant leadership are what will make me an effective attorney one day. People need to feel as though they have a chance, and that starts with someone representing them who believes their story matters. It starts with using my voice to empower theirs.
My history, community, and identity have shaped me into someone who actively works towards something much bigger than myself. My dream of being an attorney has never been about my own personal gain. From day one, my focus has been on utilizing my degree to make a positive impact on others. I plan to use my J.D. to practice public interest law and fight for equity for communities in need. Dismantling all forms of oppression can only be achieved once we centralize the issues, voices, and lives of disenfranchised communities everywhere. Black representation in law is imperative because Black attorneys can draw from their lived experiences to bring a distinct understanding of systemic discrimination and exclusion.
We know firsthand how our country’s system has resulted in inequity. As a future attorney, I want to participate in changing that system.
Darius Butler is a first-year law student and brand new Impact blogger at BC Law. Contact him at butled@bc.edu.
