Inclusion: “Nobody’s Business?”

Billie Holiday’s classic blues song, “Ain’t Nobody’s Business If I Do,¹” provides an apt analogy as to how, at the start of my career, I chose to deal with my sexuality in my professional life:

If I should take a notion To jump into the ocean It ain’t nobody’s business if I do If I go to church on Sunday And I shimmy down on Monday It ain’t nobody’s business if I do . . .

Well, I don’t know about the “jump[ing] into the ocean” lyrics, but I hope you get my point. You see, in the early 1990s, as I was entering the world of large law firm practice, my sole concern was doing exemplary legal work. My focus was on whether I had adequately researched the issues on my plate, whether my writing was stellar, whether I presented well at meetings, whether I would get the plum assignment to argue a motion or second chair a trial, whether the judge would agree with my arguments, and whether I’d be asked to join the next big case. I reasoned that the folks at the office were concerned only with whether I was a contributor, and that they couldn’t (or shouldn’t) care less whether I was straight or gay. While doing my work, I sought neither self-validation nor self-affirmation. For me, work was, well, for working, and it still is.

Of course over time, some of my colleagues came to know me personally, and my sexuality was not a big deal. When my partner accompanied me to our holiday party, again it was not a big deal. Eventually, as I chose to take on public roles, including running for president-elect of this great Bar, I chose to speak on the issue in the public sphere. A candidate’s forum sponsored by GAYLAW provided the perfect environment. It didn’t surprise me one bit that I have received nothing but support from so many of you—a gesture of largess for which I am grateful.

We lawyers have a well-deserved reputation for being conservative—that is, cautious with a penchant for adhering to custom and precedent. After all, in law school, we were more often than not conditioned to be circumspect and careful. We are especially so in dealing with matters of individual privacy. As is our duty, we are certainly careful in dealing with our client’s confidences, and we are also careful in relating to each other on matters of privacy. Gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender attorneys are no less circumspect than the rest of the profession. Perhaps this is why we have, in large part, been invisible. This is changing.

Lawyers’ affinity for circumspection and prudence sometimes means we are slow to change. For example, the profession’s full acceptance of women and minorities has taken some time, and as I have written in these pages before, continues to be a work in progress. Moreover, the manner in which we approach legal services for low- and moderate-income persons oftentimes is awkward because many of our legal precedents, customs, and practices were traditionally geared toward maintaining the status quo of the moneyed classes. We have, however, made great strides in recognizing and addressing such inequities, and I am confident our progress will continue.

I feel the same way about the field’s fledgling effort to include openly lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender attorneys in the fabric of our profession. I have learned much about the status of such efforts. Not surprisingly, the D.C. Bar is a leader in this area. Although it is nearly ten years old, the Report of the District of Columbia Bar Task Force on Sexual Orientation and the Legal Workplace² is widely cited and relied upon around the country as a resource and a starting point for dealing with today’s issues concerning sexual orientation in the legal workplace.

Last year, the American Bar Association (ABA) formed the Commission on Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity, and I am proud to have been asked by ABA President Bill...