Women in Law Through the Decades

The first woman to graduate from the University of Toronto with an LLB (1899), and to become the first female barrister in Canada - in fact, in the entire British Empire.

Defied the barrier of discrimination to become the first woman of colour to graduate from the U of T Law School. After graduating from McGill University, Ivy received a scholarship to attend U of T law school at a time when there were few students of colour. After her call to the bar in England in 1947 she received a 5-year appointment with United States Information Service in Paris. She later moved to Trinidad and Tobago where she pursued her lifelong passion for adult education and developing courses, programs and lectures that would make university more accessible to dispossessed groups and communities in her country. In 1959, she married a career diplomat and moved to Jamaica where she continued her education at University of West Indies. 

First woman to graduate from the modern Faculty of Law at U of T
She was just 19 years old and on a full scholarship at U of T when she read in the Varsity student newspaper that a new law school was opening. Determined to secure a place in its first class that fall, she marched over to the now legendary Dean Caesar Wright's office to "join the Faculty of Law." When she was met with a disapproving look and his curt response "I don't think so," Anna was undeterred. She quickly retorted, "When you see my marks you'll think so." Returning to his office the next day, transcripts in hand, she was admitted on the spot. For the next three years, Anna was the only woman in the law school, and the only woman to graduate in 1952 while finishing second in her class. Despite initial difficulty securing employment in the legal profession, Anna had a long and successful career working for the Federal Government Appeals Board, the Provincial Government Electoral Commission, and finally the Refugee and Immigration Bureau.
 

Who later became the Director of the Ontario Arts Council Foundation, was told flat out by one firm that they didn't hire women. She eventually landed an articling position with McCarthy and McCarthy.  

Abella - future litigator, academic, royal commissioner, Supreme Court Judge - faced a wall when it came to finding a job. When her father was diagnosed with cancer, Abella lost hope and stopped searching. Dean Ronald St. J. MacDonald stepped in and set up an articling interview for Abella. Once in the door, Abella soared. The profession, she says, was on the cusp of change, realizing that it had to remove barriers to women and minorities. Suddenly, Abella found herself in demand to give speeches on family law and human rights.

They arrived at law school in the mid-seventies having done their reading - The Feminine Mystique, The Female Eunuch. As their numbers increased steadily - from about 10 percent in '73 to about 25 percent by the end of the decade - the school felt the impact. Dean Martin Friedland appointed many of the school's first female law professors, and introduced curriculum changes (including interdisciplinary legal studies) that would nudge the study of law into a new era. They are the firecrackers, the trailblazers, the ones who got the whole ball rolling - just a few of the definitions the women who went to law school in the 1970s offer up of their generation.

You can also read quotes from other women from the 70s. 

This generation brought new ideas with them - that gender did matter and that law was hardly a neutral instrument. "It was a male culture, but there was an assumption that it was neutral," says Lorraine Weinrib ('73) who went on to litigate extensively in the Supreme Court and teach the Canadian Charter at U of T. Weinrib says resentment simmered among both professors and male students. "One of my classmates told me outright that I shouldn't be in the class because I was taking the place of his friend who was highest on the waiting list."

Maureen Kempston Darkes ('73), who later became GM Group Vice President and President, GM Latin America, Africa and the Middle East, says the greatest challenge in the seventies was "being taken seriously. The sense was, aren't you just going to get married? But we were there for a purpose and we had every intention of having a serious career."

For the first time, women graduated to open doors and opportunity. At least officially, the legal profession said they wanted more women in their firms and went recruiting. Says Fraser: "The larger law firms were falling all over themselves to hire women, and they were run in such a fashion that gave us real opportunity. In a way, we were beneficiaries of affirmative action, but the benefit didn't last very long."

Kirby Chown ('79), who became a managing partner at McCarthy Tétrault, says she studied the male culture of her law firm "almost as a tourist" for the first few years. "Law was behind on issues focusing on women. But with about five years under my belt, I began to appreciate the power I had." With twins at home, she set boundaries around her personal time while she and other women advocated for flex time and more progressive policies for both maternity and paternity leaves.
Chown says women also brought a different approach to the practice of law, especially in her field of family law. "The male model was advocacy - we're going to trial. Now we have a whole structure in Ontario that encourages mediation and alternative dispute resolutions. Womens' style tends to be more resolution seeking through consensus building and that's had a profound effect on dispute resolution."
 

As more visible minorities entered law school in the eighties, race began trumping gender as a leading issue. For women of colour, law school proved an "incredibly politicizing experience," says Nitya Iyer ('86), a specialist in human rights, pay equity and constitutional law. "Feminist issues were very much debated, but there was a huge silence and discomfort around race. You can't go through a year of law without realizing that whatever field of law you're looking at, different groups of people get advantaged or disadvantaged by it. My colour mattered in a way that it hadn't before." 
Iyer joined the fledgling Women in Law Caucus and anti-apartheid movement.  The former raised hell by taking pictures of sexist graffiti in the men's washroom and plastering the pictures around the law school. For South African Ambassador Glenn Babb's visit to the University, Iyer joined an art protest that sparked a riot outside Hart House. Says Iyer: "I found law fascinating because I had never thought how class and race and sex actually organize and divide people. It was a very challenging, if not a happy time. But it changed my life."

Avvy Yao-Yao Go ('89), who became a founder and director of the Metro Toronto Chinese and South East Asian Legal Clinic, didn't really know why she applied to law school, other than, she says laughing, it was "a good way to make a lot of money." But she was dismayed, from the first day, when a professor told the incoming class that they were "the cream of the crop" and were going to be "the most powerful people in Canada." Says Go: "People around me were nodding their heads!" Instantly, she discovered an egalitarian streak and began hanging out with people who "didn't belong," students who weren't "someone's son or daughter." 
Go also began spending much of her time working at a downtown legal clinic in Chinatown. "Some Chinese students had no interest in the clinic because they didn't want to be ghettoized, but it was there that I found out what I wanted to do," says Go. "Courses were theoretical but here were real people with real legal problems and I thought, there is meaning in life. This is what I should be doing."
While her clinic gives her the platform to address issues important to the Chinese community, Go says racism is a constant - not only for her clients but for her as she advocates on their behalf. "People make comments about me or my name or my appearance - especially among the tribunals. Sometimes there's a total lack of respect and even disdain. You really have to wonder."

Darlene Johnston ('86), the first Indigenous woman to attend U of T law school, was dismayed by the lack of content pertaining to Indigenous peoples in courses and sought to correct it, by becoming a professor  of law. She too found her political bearings outside law school, by working as lands research co-ordinator for the Chippewas of Nawash First Nation. Her advocacy led to protection of their commercial fishery, burial grounds and culturally significant sites. "There were times that involved confrontation," says Johnston, "and law school teaches the legitimacy of the status quo, to accept the status quo and be respectful. But from an Aboriginal perspective, there are lots of things that appear legal but have been imposed on First Nations."
"I also had to learn to make my legal skills relevant to the community, to not assume that the law or lawyers had all the answers but to be more sensitive to what the community was trying to accomplish then see how the law could help."
When Robert Prichard became dean in 1984, he ushered in more innovative curriculum changes, shoring up feminist, race, international and aboriginal content. Now, Johnston says U of T works hard to recruit aboriginal students, with about 10 enrolling each year. Says Johnston, who also serves as aboriginal faculty advisor: "Things are very much improved."
 

After storming the streets of New York City as an AIDS and gay activist, Pam Shime ('95) entered U of T law school to find a decidedly meek environment. As the only out lesbian in her year, she joined Out in Law, a gay and lesbian student organization. There were only about 10 members.
Still, she says they made an incredible impact, just by being visible. "Out students teach the whole law school because they humanize difference. In coming out, they're role models because it requires integrity, honesty and, unfortunately, still courage. But these are all important qualities for a lawyer."
Shime, who later taught courses on sexuality and law at U of T and was the faculty advisor for Out in Law, says that even a decade later and with numerous gay lawyers as role models, law students were still reluctant to come out professionally. "They often assumed big firms were homophobic."
She believes that law firms were actually more accepting than students think, but that they too often hid behind the prejudices of clients, or the assumption that clients are homophobic, racist or sexist. "They were very often wrong," said Shime. "Also, if a firm stands up and tells a client, 'this is the lawyer who can help you,' clients would rarely refuse that help."
When she became National Director of Pro Bono Students Canada, she encouraged law students to play a more activist role and come forward with strategies on how to make the profession more accessible - not just to gays and lesbians but for visible minorities and the disabled.
"No one's going to invite you to the table," said Shime. "You just have to step forward with ideas. But I believe there's a lot of good intention at the law school around these issues and goodwill at firms, but people often don't know how to address issues or change the way they work."