A Movement, Not a Moment

AROUND THE BAR By: Troy Weston

GOODBYE

On August 24, I will celebrate 20 years being a Knoxvillian, and that makes me one of y’all. Even if you ignore longevity, Knoxville is my home; it is where I grew--sometimes painfully--into adulthood. But now, I am embarking on a career representing my country as a diplomat. That job will take me around the world, and my home will change every two years. For me, that is an exciting prospect; spending my future in places like Kinshasa or Harare or Manama learning the language and culture and representing the United States’ foreign policy is a dream bigger than I thought was possible. My first stop is Ciudad Juárez, where I will be a consular officer working in our consulate. I am excited to try my hand at being a Juarense, but starting this next chapter during a pandemic has taken me down a road of (sometimes selfindulgent) reflection. Please join me.

During the time I was a practicing lawyer, I didn’t do enough to promote diversity in the profession in Knoxville. Odds are, you haven’t either. I know that is a little incendiary, but that is sort of the point.

By way of background, when I came to Knoxville in the summer of 2001, I didn’t know a lawyer; I wouldn’t interact with a practicing lawyer until I was in law school. For much of the early part of my career, I struggled with the feeling that I was at a disadvantage because I was less familiar with the profession than my peers, many of whom were part of a tradition of lawyers in their family. Looking back, that was silly.

The truth is that I am a cis-gender white male, and that meant (and still means) unearned advantages. Even if my father and grandfather didn’t precede me in the practice, I gained entry to and participated in a system that was written to favor me. In fact, most of this bar association looks an awful lot like me. I enjoyed collegial and professional interactions without ever wondering if all the gentility and manners were just veneers covering something more sinister and exclusionary. My colleagues from diverse backgrounds have shared stories with me about unequal and discriminatory treatment at the hands of their clients, their colleagues, members of the judiciary--really, every player in our system of justice. I don’t have comparable experiences.

The problem is that the bar association is not diverse, and the majority often chooses to ignore the story of anyone who doesn’t look like that majority.

In 2019, the KBA boasted 1,629 members--approximately 82% of the attorneys in Knox County, and approximately 84% of those members reported their racial and ethnic background. Of those who reported-- the vast majority of our members--2% were African American (I am rounding up), while 96% were white. For comparison, the United States Census Bureau estimates that about 17% of Tennessee’s population was African-American in 2019. In terms of gender, 64% of the KBA identifies as male. Meanwhile, census estimates place the male population at 48.8% of our state’s population. These numbers are not encouraging, but even they do not take into account the number of attorney members who are in senior or management roles within law offices. Once we reach those waters, the evidence is more anecdotal, but it is extremely reasonable to say that total diversity does not increase in the more senior ranks in our city.

We as a bar association are not doing enough to recruit, include, and promote diverse lawyers. In response to that statement, I have often heard that diverse candidates are not putting themselves forward for consideration. The truth, though, is that if you are consistently not receiving applications from people of color, women, or LGBTQ+ applicants, that says more about your recruitment tools and the people in your milieu than anything. If you are not recruiting diverse applicants, try spending time at events like the KBA’s annual diversity mixer, or spend some time at one of our law schools presenting to groups like the Black Law Student Association or Lambda Law Society. Think about getting involved with organizations like the Knoxville Area Urban League where diverse lawyers and law students often volunteer. Do something to get out of the office and community you know. Expand your own horizons, and you will meet the diverse talent that is out there.

Even though I am not a second, third, or fourth generation lawyer in my family, I have never been the outsider overcoming adversity, and thinking any differently is ignorant. I will never fully understand the experience diverse lawyers face in this profession, but that does not mean I can’t do something to make that experience better. It is 50 years past time for us white men to acknowledge the privilege we have, and we must use our position--in this case, dramatically disproportionate representation in the bar--to amplify diverse voices and clear a seat at the table (or several) for people who can enrich our profession and our lives. Talent in 2020 prioritizes diversity; talent in 2020 is diversity. If Knoxville doesn’t embrace this--and, to date, it hasn’t--we will continue to lose bright, capable lawyers to communities that do. We will be on the wrong side of history, and our legal community will be worse for it.

I didn’t do anywhere near enough to advance the mission of diversity during my time in the practice of law, but my journey isn’t over. One day, I hope the friends I have made in this association are joined by diverse faces of talented lawyers that can truly reflect the concept of equality on which our laws are so focused.