We Can’t Step Backwards on Progress Toward Colorblind Justice

For those of us who have lived through segregation and overt racism, what is happening in today’s political environment is living life in flashback. I thought the days of blatant governmental discrimination were coming to an end. Diversity, equity, and inclusion had become the watchwords and the practice.

People of all races, ethnicities, and genders could come to our courts and other institutions and not feel like they were alone. People of color saw people who looked like them in positions from the judge to the janitor to the defense attorney. Those who came to courthouses didn’t have to endure some of the indignities that I saw and experienced in the 1970s and 1980s.

One of my first experiences as a lawyer was a scathing questioning of my identity. I was dressed appropriately, and my hair was properly done—in other words, I “looked” like a lawyer. However, I didn’t have what some believed I should have in order to be a lawyer—white skin.

As I approached the bench when my client’s case was called, the judge inquired in a booming voice, “Who are you? The defendant?” Never mind that the defendant was male, and I was female.

With such an inauspicious beginning, I feared for my client and our chances of receiving a fair hearing. It was a civil matter, so I wasn’t concerned about my client’s liberty, but I was concerned about his livelihood. Although I won that case, the incident left me with the feeling that despite my successful navigation of law school and the bar examination, I wasn’t “supposed” to be a lawyer.

I grew up in the rural south in Virginia and attended a segregated elementary and high school, despite that Brown v. Board of Education was decided in 1954 and I finished high school in 1966. I attended a historically Black university: Howard University in Washington.

My first integrated experience was law school, where one professor, looking at the Black students, said he had to “weed out the incompetents.” On the other hand, I had some professors who listened to me before judging me. A constitutional law professor called me “the voice of reason.”

I didn’t let such experiences define me. I wanted to be a lawyer, so a lawyer I became. But I wonder how many potentially wonderful lawyers, doctors, teachers, or government workers never were because of the racism and discrimination they faced?

As lawyers and judges, we’re charged with administering justice. Our judicial system—indeed, all of our institutions—must be fair and impartial. And they must appear to be fair and impartial. History has taught us that if we listen, that when one group predominates, there’s no fairness, impartiality, or justice. Rather than try to repress history, today’s leaders (and I use the term loosely) should embrace history and learn from it.

All of the diverse groups that make up the tapestry of America have contributed to its growth and development. All need to be included in its future.

This is why diversity, equity, and inclusion are so important. No group should be left behind if America wants to continue to be a strong voice in our multicultural world.

There’s no going back. We must embrace both our differences and our similarities. Without this acknowledgment, I fear we are doomed as a nation. The great American experiment will have failed.

This article does not necessarily reflect the opinion of Bloomberg Industry Group, Inc., the publisher of Bloomberg Law and Bloomberg Tax, or its owners.

Author Information

Peggy Quince, the first African American female justice to serve on the Florida Supreme Court and as chief justice, is a member of the board of Lawyers Defending American Democracy and wrote a chapter about her early experiences in the collection, “Her Honor –Stories of Challenge and Triumph from Women Judges.”

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