My path to law. Structure from a Chaotic Beginning

• Author: Shane Correia
• Pages: 14-15

PHOTOGRAPH BY DAN KLEIN PHOTOGRAPHY

Opening Statements

14 || ABA JOURNAL JUNE 2018

MY PATH TO LAW

Structure from a Chaotic Beginning

My Path to Law celebrates the dive rsity of the legal profession through at torneys’ first-person stories d etailing

their unique and in spiring trajectories. Rea d more #mypathtolaw stories on Twitter, where the ha shtag was created

by Exeter University l ecturer Matthew Channon.

By Shane Correia

My path to law has been shaped

by legal institutions th at brought

order to a chaotic upbringing. As a

child, family law brought safet y from

domestic violence that motivated my

parents’ divorce. That early a ncillary

primer on crimina l justice provided

orientation for my adolescence when

witnessing the prosecut ion of my

two siblings for murder charges, a nd

it shielded against physical abus e

due to my sexual orientation. On my

entry into adulthood , legal assistance

supported my escape from homeless-

ness and journey to law school.

Growing up in the Bronx, I loved

the nights when my mother, sister

and I stayed in hotels. It was nice

to come home from school or services

at the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s

Witnesses to find the room wa s

clean and our beds were ma de. The

relative luxur y of quiet hotels con-

trasted to the nig hts huddled with

my siblings at the top of the stairs a s

my father hurled plates and insults

at my mother in the kitchen below.

My mother is an immigrant fr om

Guyana, where a wi fe’s rights were

subordinate to her husband’s, and

she learned the Americ an justice

system would protect her. A divorce,

the courts and police i nvolvement

removed my father’s physical

presence and neutralized h is

threatening adva nces. Though

my father attempted to fight for

custody, the “best intere st of the

child standard” anchore d me to my

mother and sister.

Growing up, my mother encour-

aged a religious and aca demic focus.

I excelled in school and preached

a religious doctrine door-t o-door

that promised divi ne justice and

salvation. Around the age of 11, my

sister moved to Washington stat e,

and my mother and I followed. Any

chance of a smooth transition wa s

squashed with the ar rest of my

sister and brother-in-law on murder

charges, and my own g radual aware-

ness that I was attr acted to men.

My mother tried shielding me

from the murder prosecution of

my siblings. An impossible task ,

considering the headline -grabbing

investigation and tria l was being

used as a case st udy in a prelaw

class at my high school. I was not

in that class, but a group of students

approached me in the cafeter ia: “Is

it true? Did your sister kill someone?”

No one had explained the situation

to me, so I was incapable of forming

any response outside of shock. Forget

the nuances of “innocent until proven

guilty,” or the dierence between an

arrest and conviction.

BACKING AWAY

I began to withdr aw. The line

between normalcy a nd delinquency

started t o blur as I willfully avoided

school and religion.

Then the letters and cal ls started.

My poor attendance triggere d a

protocol known as the Be cca bill.

In Washington state, tr uancy can be

a crime. Mandated pa rticipation in

truancy progra ms and recommended

sessions with a counselor forced me

out of the apartment and into engag-

ing with nonfundament alist adults.

In essence, the legal sys tem required

I engage the worldly values and

people I had been taught to shun.

A pressure began to pres s against

the surface. I neede d to say some-

thing to my mother. I forced out the

words: “I’m attracted to men.”

My mother looked at me and said,

“Why is it that my children be come

my worst fears?” Then, silence.

Our interactions be came limited.

I’d find food outside my bedroom

door. The silence lasted for what

would ultimately become a deca de.

In a way, her silence encouraged me

to find my own voice and to use it.

I began to advocat e for myself, and I

moved to New York City to live with

my father at the age of 14.

My father’s behavior vacillated

between genial a nd hostile. His

constant threat s of physical abuse

were met with my threat s to involve

law enforcement. Throughout our

tenuous stalemate, until I t urned 18,

my name was no longer Shane but

rather some der isive homophobic

moniker. Still, the noise was prefer-

able to silence.

I enrolled myself in a high school,

where I was encouraged to apply to

the Center for Court Innovation’s

Youth Justice Board that exposed

high school students to the justice

system. This prov ided opportunities

to meet attorneys a nd judges in

situations where I wasn’t being

represented by or appearing before

them. I was inspired by their s ense of

purpose and loyalty t o helping people

they had never met. This sparke d my

desire to pursue a career i n law.

With this new sense of purp ose

aligned with the YJB , I gained

confidence. I accepted my sex ual

orientation without shame. My

relationship with my father felt

détente until I came home the

night of my 18th birthday to find

that the locks had been ch anged.

Later, I returned to my father’s

house to claim my belongings. My

Shane Correia