Abstract

Excerpted From: Akilah Folami, Meera E. Deo, Unequal Profession: Race and Gender in Legal Academia, Redwood City, California: Stanford University Press, 2019, 256 Pp., $26.00 (Hardcover), 73 Journal of Legal Education 254 (Fall, 2024) (86 Footnotes) (Full Document)

Meera Deo's book Unequal Profession: Race and Gender in Legal Academia provides the empirical data for what legal academics of color have professed for decades. We knew it was so, and Deo now proves it is so--“it” being the slights, the biases, the inequity in treatment, the invisibility (or, in my case, hypervisibility) of women of color academics in predominantly white institutions of legal education. She does so masterfully by weaving in, with the raw data, the stories and lived experiences of these academics unduly burdened by “institutional discrimination” stemming from the “raceXgender” factor that she defines and expands upon throughout her book. As a Black woman faculty member at a predominantly White institution, I found many of these stories to ring true--indeed, paralyzingly so, both at the time I experienced them and upon reflection in reading Deo's book. After completing Unequal Profession and thinking a few days about my comments for this essay, early one morning, the lyrics by 1990s rapper Lil' Kim to “Money, Power, and Respect: It's the Key to Life: Money, Power, and Respect: Help You Sleep at Night” kept repeating in my mind as I awakened. My recent scholarly interest has turned to exploring the widening wealth gap among professional groups of color in the varying professions, with a targeted focus on the legal profession and the effects of such on mental health, access, opportunity and generational wealth-building; I suspect that is why the lyrics came to me.

While we may agree or disagree with Lil' Kim on the veracity of money, power, and respect being the key to life, I found the lyrics useful in framing my comments on Deo's book, and I hope she and others will as well. As those in legal academia think about diversity and inclusion in legal academia--both of which are in dire straits agree with Deo that we are remiss if we do not think explicitly and critically about the ways in which what I am categorizing here as money, power, and respect issues matter in this profession, and the extent to which one or all serve as impediments to entering, surviving, thriving, and leading in this life--“this life” being the legal academic life.

As I define the term (with which Lil' Kim may or may not agree), money refers broadly to matters that affect and relate to class and financial status such as income, wealth accumulation, and access to either or both. Power, as I use the term here, refers to an internal barometer of the mental health of women academics of color in primarily White institutions of legal education, namely matters related to self-esteem, empowerment, confidence, or psychological distress or discomfort. Finally, I use respect to refer to an external barometer of how women of color in legal academia are treated by their colleagues and students, who are primarily White and male.

Early on in her book, Deo notes that her work was heavily influenced by another book, Presumed Incompetent: The Intersections of Race and Class for Women in Academia. Several women law professors of color contributed to this volume, and while these contributions were valuable in their own right, they were all the more so as part of a comparative examination of the challenges women of color in academia face within the various disciplines. In addition, in Presumed Incompetent, the presentation of the law professors' contributions seemed consistent with the narrative and storytelling tradition advanced thematically as a tenet of critical race theory. In contrast to the focus in Presumed Incompetent, Deo zeros in on legal academia to explore the ways in which race and gender show up for women in legal academia. In addition, while Deo layers her book with stories as told to her, rather than having the participants themselves present their own personal narratives, the stories are nonetheless compelling. Moreover, the stories illustrate and add texture to the empirical data Deo has collected, analyzed, and now shared--a sharing that cannot be overstated for its weighty contribution to the long-standing dialogue in legal academia among professors of color. Indeed, as Deo asserts, her work here marries the intersectional and thematic traditions of critical race theory and empirical methodology.

Deo highlights her decision to collect, analyze, and share the data on men in academia as well, both white men and men of color, and notes the benefit of having done so for comparative purposes in further substantiating her claims about unequal treatment of men and women faculty. For example, Deo shows how white male professors made a conscious and affirmative choice to enter academia with many mentors, guides, and sponsors along the way, while women of color entered by default, or by way of considerable nudging and with few examples along the way (given that most law professors are white and male). She also sheds light on a key difference between men and women professors across race related to work/life balance. Women across the board, irrespective of race, carried most of the weight of home pressures and demands where the participants were partnered, and all the more so where there were children and their care was involved.

In applying my chosen Lil' Kim-based themes of money, power, and respect to Deo's empirical and analytical inquiry, I noted that Deo does not seem to delve deeply into issues related to class status--or, as I have chosen to categorize it, money. With that said, I present a few comments in the last section of this essay and discuss, in reverse order, the other themes: power, respect, and money. In addition, as it relates to the money theme, some of my comments apply solely to Black women, given the broader societal positioning and wealth gap between us and White men and between Blacks and other racial/ethnic groups of color, as, for example, the sometimes dire consequences of engaging in any act related to being alive but doing so “while Black.”

[. . .]

I appreciated in some ways that in Lead from the Outside, Abrams designated an entire chapter to money, aptly titled “Money Matters,” signaling its importance. She shared her own money woes, which became a topic of controversy during her campaign for governor, including how it stemmed from student loan debt and the help she provided to her family along the way of her educational accomplishments and professional career. It is abundantly clear to me that as we consider diversity and inclusion, money matters must be a part of that conversation--including how it plays out in legal academia, be it when it shows up as limited access to certain positions for women and people of color or in inequity in pay.

With that said, even with the absence of a discussion on money matters, I was duly impressed with Deo's book. Deo begins us on a journey of uncovering what ails the profession overall, which itself is no easy task for an industry apt to critique and challenge other professions but not itself. In Unequal Profession, Deo focuses on the diversity and inclusion issues that have long plagued the practicing profession in general and specifically--legal academia in particular. I found Deo's work to be an invaluable and resource-rich contribution to the discourse; it provides the empirical data long missing and, as such, serves as a renewed clarion call to action with clear guidance on the way forward.

Akilah Folami is Professor of Law, Associate Dean for Research and Faculty Development, and Faculty Director for Diversity and Inclusion at Maurice A. Deane School of Law at Hofstra University.