Today, as an attorney working on behalf of low-income clients facing housing instability, there is something sanitized about my profession and my persona.  When I meet with clients, I presume that I can access all kinds of personal information about them – but that they will not learn anything about me.  I am neutral, unmarked, The Professional – not a human being with personality quirks, and certainly not a human being with a first-hand experience of poverty. Perhaps attorneys have more in common with our clients than we are used to looking for.  And perhaps sharing those stories, forging those connections, is worth the risk of letting our professional masks drop.

This time of year can be a moment of excitement and trepidation – of opportunity and real challenges. With two young daughters at home, heading into Pre-K and 1st Grade, I understand this dynamic well. It is my role as a father that weighs heavily on my mind as I head to work each day. I am all too aware of the intersection of our housing and work children’s ability to go back to school ready to learn. 

We already miss Liz terribly – she was absolutely one-of-a-kind. The kind the legal community, and the larger community, needed more of, the kind of lawyer who made equal access to justice more than just a catch-phrase, and the kind of person that caused Judge Jane Barwick to write this about what her friend Liz Whipple taught her: “That one person, one curly-headed person, can make all others better. And heartbroken.“

Imagine that you have just been berated, beaten, and bloodied by your partner. Maybe it’s the first time. Maybe it’s the 51st time. It happened in front of your three children. You once conveyed some of what has been happening to friends and family, but they looked at you like you had to be exaggerating.

I started working at AVLF about three years ago. Five days into my employment, I was standing on the 16th floor of King & Spalding, watching in bewilderment as two people deftly constructed a 10-foot stiletto shoe out of hundreds of red balloons.

More often than I wish were true, people think of “pro bono legal services” as simply giving a poor person a free lawyer. But pro bono publico (usually shortened to pro bono) does not mean “free,” it means “for the public good.”