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 colonial forces to Operation Blue Star and the 1984 Anti-Sikh Riots, there have been repeated efforts to erase Sikhs.

My parents lived through 1984 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 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, 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.

What does the "end" of DEI mean for students and "big law" job prospects? (Part I)

President Trump's Executive Order against several private and public institutions raises the question: what does this mean for first-generation students applying for post-bar jobs? Several of my law school courses have explored whether the 14th Amendment––the Constitutional requirement to treat all individuals equal––is useful socially and legally as a way to propel marginalized individuals forward. Or, alternatively, if “‘[d]iversity,’ for all of its devotees, is more a fashionable catchphrase than it is a useful term, especially when something as serious as racial discrimination is at issue.'" Grutter v. Bollinger, 539 U.S. 306, n. 3 (2003) (Thomas, J., concurring in part).

Three major ("Big") law firms––WilmerHale, Jenner & Block, and Perkins Coie LLP––have been the subjects of Executive Orders telling them to halt their DEI practices, forgo certain pro bono projects, and end relationships with partisan clients. 

Litigation before the Supreme Court between the firms and the Trump administration is pending. Several major law firms are representing those firms, and many other law firms have signed an amicus brief asking the Court to hold in favor of Perkins Coie and their diversity practices. 

However, a growing contingent of big law firms (like Skadden Arps; Paul Weiss; Milbank; and Wilkie, Farr, and Gallagher) have acquiesced. To avoid an Executive Order, they promised the Trump administration hundreds of "pro bono" hours. 

Other large law firms have (thus far) remained silent.

As a law student, my news feed is filled with reactions against "big law" firms capitulating to the Trump administration: open letters by associates threatening resignation, "big law" partners initiating focus groups for other partners to act, or data suggesting 1L students applying to jobs are avoiding those firms. The American Bar Association and law school deans have also issued statements against the Trump Administration's actions.