Law school taught me the law, but my firsts taught me about me

Law school changes you in ways you expect, through intense coursework, long readings, and the pressure to perform. But perhaps more importantly, it also surprises you in quiet, unexpected ways. 

For me, the most meaningful parts of my law school journey came from deeply personal firsts. As I prepare to graduate, I want to take a moment to reflect on these experiences. 

My “First” Haircut

My parents are Sikhs from Punjab, India. 

Sikhi emerged in a region shaped by spiritual diversity and conflict, grounded in values like equality and resistance to oppression. From Mughal and British colonial regimes to the Indian government’s involvement in Operation Blue Star and the 1984 anti-Sikh Riots, those in power have repeatedly attempted to erase Sikhi because its very commitment to sovereignty, social justice, and egalitarianism threatens their authoritarian control.

My parents lived through the 1984 anti-Sikh Riots in India and carried that trauma with them when they immigrated to America. They were determined to protect the faith our family and ancestors fought so hard to preserve. That commitment shaped how they raised my siblings and me.

My siblings and I were born Sikh and raised with its core values. When I was in elementary school, my parents took amrit, a sacred initiation that requires stricter adherence to Sikh practices. That included keeping their hair uncut and following a disciplined spiritual path.

From that point on, my siblings and I began observing those practices, too. We did it out of love and respect for our parents, and because we lived in the same household. But as we grew older and started forming our own identities, some of those practices began to conflict with how we wanted to live.

For me, that internal conflict became harder to ignore during law school. I often felt out of control in class, in life, and within myself. My hair became a daily reminder that I could not even choose how I looked, because I was afraid of upsetting my parents.

The last time I had my hair cut was as a child, before my parents took amrit. After a lot of reflection, I finally gathered the courage to get a haircut as an adult. As a first-generation law student, I had spent years learning how to advocate for others while slowly learning how to advocate for myself, but this was the first time I was bold enough to act on what I needed.

It was not an act of rebellion, nor was it a rejection of my faith. It was an act of self-determination. I was not rejecting my faith but trying to live it in a way that honored both my values and my individuality.

It was the first time I truly felt like an adult making a decision for myself. 

My First Swim Lessons and Camping Trip

Growing up low-income, swimming and camping were luxuries we could not afford. Even when there were affordable options to participate in these activities, my immigrant parents often hesitated. These experiences were unfamiliar to them, and they believed money could be better spent elsewhere.

After my haircut, I felt emboldened to start living life more fully and on my own terms. I had more financial stability and more freedom, and I wanted to take advantage of the opportunities I never had access to growing up. For the first time, I felt ready to explore parts of life that had always felt just out of reach. 

During 2L, I signed up for the swimming lessons offered through the undergraduate recreation program. I am no Olympic swimmer, but I can now float and move through the water with confidence. That alone felt like a victory.

Then, during 3L, I enrolled in the California Environmental Cases and Places course. All summer, I debated whether to drop it. I was nervous that I would not be cut out for camping, especially since I was not in the best shape.

But something in me did not want to back out. Fear was no longer a good enough reason to turn away from something new.

I decided to stay in the course. I spent four days camping and learning about California’s environmental issues directly from the people and places most impacted. It was exhausting, humbling, and grounding in a way I had never experienced before.

I came back with sore legs and a full heart.

My First Estate Planning Job Offer

Even after my haircut, even after learning to swim and sleeping under the stars for the first time, life did not follow a perfect upward arc. Growth came in waves, not straight lines. Some of my most meaningful firsts revealed themselves only after disappointment settled in. 

In my first blog post, I wrote about wanting to break into estate planning and how that path did not come easily. I met with a career services advisor, hoping for guidance, but walked away feeling discouraged and disheartened. 

I wish I could say that moment lit a fire in me to prove everyone wrong. Instead, the truth is that I went home and cried. 

I felt stuck and hopeless. I was convinced I would have to return to my 2L summer job and move back home. I was not looking forward to going back to that environment. For a while, I did nothing except try to cope with my reality.

Then, without any sign or warning, the stars aligned once more. 

In class, my Trusts, Wills, and Estates professor shared that a firm had reached out looking for students with an interest in estate planning.

I took a chance and reached out in January. I was not even sure it would lead to a real interview. But that email turned into a first-round interview in February, followed by a second-round interview in April, and finally, a job offer the very next day. 

Rejection can hurt. But hope has a quiet way of returning when you least expect it.

Carrying These Firsts Forward

These firsts reminded me that growth is rarely loud or immediate. Sometimes it begins quietly, in the background of doubt or fear. Sometimes it looks like trying something unfamiliar, or making a decision that feels like your own for the first time.

To anyone still in law school, or considering the journey, I hope you create space to explore your own firsts. Whether your dream is to become a lawyer or to take a different path entirely, go for it and have fun along the way. Try everything and anything life offers.

Allow yourself to have your firsts. In fact, go have a first every day. Better yet, be the first.

“Big Law” Series: Why do students want "Big Law" jobs? (Part I)

Firms are increasingly pushing the on-campus interview process ("OCI") earlier and earlier. Many DEI-eligible students have had a competitive advantage by applying to the 1L Leadership Council on Legal Diversity ("LCLD") or diversity programs offered by “big law” firms. But the existence of these programs raises the question:  why would students participate in stressful, opaque processes just to work in “big law”? What are the benefits of these programs? Why should firms solicit diverse, first-generation students to apply to their early-access programs? This post will explore what “Big Law” is and why first-generation, and particularly low-income, students might be interested in jobs at a big law firm. Subsequent blog entries will discuss President Trump’s executive orders against law firms and why these orders may be relevant to first-generation or diverse students interested in entering the legal field. 

What is “big law”?

Jobs in "big law"––the colloquial name for the top 100-200 law firms as ranked by American Lawyer––are highly coveted due to the type of work lawyers get to do (often representing titans in a field) and the enormous salary they earn (most "big law" firms have starting salaries of >$200,000). The financial stability, work, and prestige make competition for these jobs intense. I’ll unpack some of the details of what these firms offer in the sections that follow.

A. Financial Stability

For many first-generation students, these jobs are not just prestigious, they promise financial stability, which many first-gen students have not previously enjoyed. 

Law school tuition can be extremely expensive, averaging about $151,000 over three years at ABA accredited schools. Many students go into debt to pay for law school, on top of the debt they have accumulated for  college. A big law salary is typically the most efficient means to pay this debt off.

In addition, as a soon-to-be graduate, I have unveiled many "hidden fees" to becoming a licensed attorney: registration with the California State Bar ($150), registration to take the MPRE (ethics exam) ($160), registration to take the California State Bar Exam ($1,082), California Bar Exam prep course (>$2,800), moral character investigation (>$700), and more. These are all expenses for which my "big law” firm is reimbursing me and, in some cases, fronting. 

B. Work Opportunity & Resources 

Another reason why these jobs are so coveted is that they often provide a strong training ground for students to explore many different types of corporate/transactional law or civil litigation projects. As big law firms often have high billing requirements (e.g., minimum of 1900-2100 billable hours/year, often ~60-80 hours of work a week), they require that associates have strong work ethics. The "high-stakes" training ground signals that lawyers at these firms are detail-oriented, quick witted, and less inclined to make mistakes. This sets the lawyers up for opportunities to lateral into other careers in the future. 

C. Prestige

When I started law school, I was unaware that the legal field wielded prestige to impose and maintain hierarchy. There seem to be myriad ways for law students to be "ranked": judicial clerkships, T-14 law schools, Law Review, Order of the Coif, and Order of the Barristers. Yet, data shows that fewer first-gen students are involved in these activities than are their continuing-generation counterparts.

A lawyer’s career can be shaped by how they excelled or the times they did not excel. The legal field can be extremely unforgiving. This puts heightened pressure on students––especially first-generation students––who are unaware of what criteria will be used to evaluate them. As discussed, if first-generation student can break into a “big law” firm, such an opportunity can yield fruitful career opportunities. However, President Trump’s Executive Orders may reduce such opportunities for first-generation students, as will be discussed in Parts II and III.