In the early 1980s, I landed a job at a two-partner law firm in Washington. I was the only female associate. A lover of fashion, I one day selected a cream-colored pantsuit with a cinched waist jacket for a small-claims-court appearance.
Very Greta Garbo, I thought.
My boss, a man, thought differently. “You can’t wear pants to court! What the [expletive] were you thinking this morning?”
What’s wrong with wearing a pantsuit? I asked.
“Judges don’t like it,” he chided. “That’s just the way it is.”
A reluctant conformist, I soon left for a position with a more laid-back legal services organization where my new boss, also a man, occasionally rocked a plaid or colored shirt, and mynew female colleagues often wore pants. I rarely appeared in court, so I decided I could be more creative in my styling. I went too far, though, when, inspired by Madonna in “Desperately Seeking Susan,” I began to wear rhinestone jewelry, leather skirts and lace.
At my year-end evaluation, my boss looked me in the eye before he read: “Overall, a good attorney, but she doesn’t dress like one.”
What had I gotten myself into? I was five years out of law school and already contemplating early retirement.
***
The law was my chosen field, but I chose it for the wrong reasons.
Months before graduating from a private high school in Boston, I had announced to my parents that I wouldn’t be attending college. Instead, I would live a committed, creative life free from elitist strictures.
I found a secretarial job to pay the bills but quickly grew bored with the routine. I also realized it wasn’t going to support my shopping habit. So, I went off to college after all, arriving at the Garden City campus of Adelphi University wearing a purple quilted Betsey Johnson jacket with faux fur sleeves reminiscent, some said, of those scary monkeys in the “The Wiz.”
My writing was just as inventive, but with my senior year suddenly upon me, I had no clue about how I’d make a living with it. I decided to try law school, instead. At least my father, one of Boston’s first black judges, would be happy.
In law school, I dressed according to my daily moods: vintage, bohemian and Afrocentric styles mixed with consignment-store treasures. I was all about bell-bottoms and huge Afros. Sometimes, I sewed my own clothes, based on album covers, such as those by Prince, Grace Jones, Sly & the Family Stone and Tina Turner. In my naivete, I imagined a legal career that would allow for my fashion flourishes.
Then, reality set in. Suffering through a string of legal jobs, I finally accepted what had become so abundantly clear: There was no being me and being a lawyer.
In 1991, I decided to return to school for a master’s degree in creative writing. Six years later, with my degree, a second husband, two children and a third on the way, I began publishing short stories, essays and, ultimately, a novel. Later, I began teaching writing full time at Duke Ellington School of the Arts and, in 2008, at Howard University — a total now of almost 14 years.
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