Influencer Marketing: How can I make money or expand my network while in law school?

As I sit in the expansive meeting hall amongst a sea of other 1Ls during orientation, I think about how nervous I am to be here. Even my scholarship-subsidized $20,000 tuition for the year was difficult to come up with, but it's significantly less than what most others pay (UC Davis Law tuition is just under $60,000)––or will have to pay after incurring significant debt––for law school. One of our academic deans walks up to the stage and announces that law school will be rigorous, stressful, and time-consuming. She also announces that we should not have jobs while in school.

This is not a unique experience. Many friends who attend other law schools told me that their deans don't just advise against students getting jobs, they forbid it. Students are thus faced with a difficult question during their first year of law school: do I incur massive debt and throw myself into my law school experience, or do I work and achieve financial security while putting my law school experience at risk? 

There's now a third option in a growing age of social media marketing: law students can monetize their "influence" by either documenting their law school experiences online, or by engaging in brand deals where they recommend products to their “followers.” Two of my friends have particularly enjoyed their experience as “influencers,” and have reaped other perks, too. 

One friend, "A.J.," shared that her experience working with brands resulted in transferable skills in her job as a transactional attorney at a “big law” firm. As an influencer, she often "marked up" potential contracts with her brand partners, negotiating key terms such as deliverables, timelines, price, and usage rights. During interviews, she explained that the negotiation and contract-drafting skills she acquired would allow her to be a stronger negotiator. Her personal experience translating "legalese" to lay terms allowed her to do the same for clients once she began working as an attorney. 

That said, she also acknowledged several risks to availing oneself to an online audience. These include the potential for reputational damage. A.J. writes, "Your professional reputation starts in law school, if not before. If you are connected with your classmates and coworkers on social media, they may judge you for what you post. Being called an 'influencer' has had a negative connotation in my opinion, so you may have to manage that."

Fortunately, a growing community of lawyers engage in content creation. This mitigates some of the negative perceptions of being an "influencer." 

Potential tax liability can be another pitfall. A.J. warns that "free gifts" or "free trips" delivered by brand partners to influencers are actually income on which taxes must be paid.  

Another friend, "B.Q.," shared that she "wouldn't consider herself an influencer" but has enjoyed sharing her experience online as a first-gen and DACA student. She garnered her platform after posting a "reaction video" to Tiktok of opening her California Bar "Pass.” Since then, many individuals have messaged her, often to ask questions about the law school application process.  She thus realized there was a need to document what it's like to attend law school and work at a "big law" firm. She is using her platform to post educational videos about the law school admissions process, on-campus interviewing (“OCI”), and her journey in general. B.Q. has connected with women in San Francisco who share identities with her, and she says it has helped her foster community. 

That said, B.Q. cautions against having too-large a social media platform. 

Every law firm has a social media policy. Many are becoming more conservative with respect to their social media policies, so I definitely recommend being very cautious about what you post. I don't post my firm's name in any video and am careful to not come across as speaking on behalf of my firm or posting any confidential information on my platform. 

B.Q. also shared that, during the OCI process, she made most of her social media accounts private to avoid being judged for her personal views. 

Whether you decide to supplement your law school career financially via influencer marketing, or to grow your network via influencer networking, social media is a new tool law students can use to expand opportunities. While it was not the best opportunity for me, I have seen several friends successfully manage their accounts to supplement their experiences in corporate world, be it through paying off debt, speaking about “influencing” in interviews, or finding a community or network of similarly situated individuals.  

As the legal field adapts to technological and media advancements, influencer marketing could be a useful skill to add to your resume. 

The restrictions of language

My partner’s middle name is “JM”—but there is far more meaning in those two letters than anticipated.

“JM” stands for “jung-ming.” A Chinese name. My partner’s family uses generational names, meaning the names of children born in the same generation share a Chinese character. In my partner’s case, he and his brother share “jung.”

My partner was born close to the new millennium, on December 29, 1999. His parents wanted to signify the coming of the 2000s, and so, the meaning of his middle name was intended to be “bell ringing in the new millennium.” Due to influences that can only be guessed at, the true meaning of his middle name is—“dinner bell.” Meanwhile, his brother’s middle name means “unicorn.”

One theory for the middle name mix-up is that my partner’s mom, a second generation Chinese American, lost command of Mandarin as she became more assimilated. If this were true it would echo nay’s experience voiced in the blog post “Do you even know how smart I am in another language.”

Behind the letters “JM” that appear on my partner’s passport, there is a story, a misconception, and a connection to Chinese culture and his brother. There is a similar story behind the passed down initials of ACM.

I believe these stories demonstrate some of the gaps in experience language cannot cover. Labels alone are not reliable conduits in conveying an entire story.

I feel this tension in my own life, because my life experiences do not cleanly fit within many typically labeled traits. I grew up low income, but I am comfortable now. I fall within the LGBTQ community, but I realized quite late and have been dating a man for years. I am a first-generation law student, but I do not claim “first-generation” because my parents made it through my hometown CSU. In my mom’s case, after three tries—and in my dad’s, after breaking away from intermittent homelessness and parents with drug addiction.

I believe this feeling of tension deriving from the simplicity of labels and the complexity of lived experience is common.

One instance of this tension can be seen in an anecdote from the New Yorker article by Leslie Jamison. The article speaks mostly about whether the term “imposter syndrome” is flawed and whether it draws attention away from pressing societal issues regarding equity in academic and work spaces. However, it includes a story about Stephanie Land, the author of the “Maid:” a memoir recounting Land’s experiences as a maid, a job undertaken to support her unexpected pregnancy. The anecdote described a moment in which a stranger thanked Land for her writing. At the time of the conversation, Land was flying first class with her teenage daughter to see a Lizzo concert. Land described that she felt “she’d been caught somewhere she didn’t belong—as if flying first class made her current self a fraud, or else her past self a fraud…” because of the tension between the struggles she faced and voiced in Maid and the circumstances of the conversation.

My partner and other multiracial friends have similarly voiced that on any given day they may feel that they do not belong to any part of their identity.

What is to be done about the inadequacy of language in capturing someone’s essence within one or two words?

Personally, I try not to identify myself using the labels you might find on an employment form. Instead, I speak to who I am by being open about my experiences and the events and people who have shaped me.

AKJ wrote about the village it takes to raise and send a child to law school. I believe every person seeks and wants community, but sometimes it may not be clear where you will find the people critical to your “village.” Due to insecurity related to claiming parts of my identity that may lend itself more to built-in community, I never know where I may find kinship or support. So, I open myself to the world and leave it in the hands of individuals to decide whether the cloth from which we are cut bears any resemblance.

I know for others labels can be empowering, and I almost envy those who confidently wield them. From these individuals, though, I would ask for open-mindedness. It may surprise you who you end up having a lot in common with.