Tell us about your community growing up. Looking back, how did they shape who you are now?

I was born and raised in Minnesota on the outskirts of the Twin Cities, where my parents eventually settled after immigrating from South Korea. It was a warm and welcoming community, but there weren’t a lot of people around who looked like us. One benefit of growing up in that kind of environment is you learn very quickly to build bridges and common ground with people from different backgrounds. Also, growing up in Minnesota kind of hardwires you to believe that everyone is worthy of being treated with kindness and respect. Law can be a stressful, contentious profession, but I’ve tried my best to carry these values with me as I’ve made my way as a lawyer.

Describe your journey to law school. What motivated you to enroll?

When I was a kid, the library was my most frequent babysitter.  I remember sitting in the stacks pulling book after book off the non-fiction shelves and spending all day reading about, say, the civil rights movement, or cold war diplomacy, or the American founding.

The transition from that set of interests to law was fairly natural.  At some point, I realized that law sits at the inflection point between ideas and action.  In our country, when people get together and try to translate their ideas about how society should be structured into reality, law is almost always at the center of the conversation.  I wanted to be a part of that process.

What was your law school experience like?

I enjoyed law school a great deal. I tried to approach it as an intellectual feast, a time to explore my interests and learn. I took many writing-focused seminars instead of black-letter law classes, for example. And I studied even the black-letter law by writing little essays to myself about the material, which I did for fun, but also to help cement my understanding of the rules and how they applied in various contexts.

I also made wonderful and lifelong friends, including through APALSA, where I was political and outreach chair. I went to Harvard, which is quite a large school, and I found it inspiring to be at a place with a big and vibrant Asian-American community, filled with classmates who were determined to make their mark on the world in very different ways.

Did you know about appellate work in law school? If not, when and how did it first get on your radar and why were you drawn to it?

I didn’t set out to be an appellate lawyer. But I love to think and write about the law, and when I realized that there was a career path where that could be my job description – to think and write about the law, and to do so in a context where my thinking and writing could have a meaningful and direct impact on the world – it was hard to turn down.

Tell us about one of your appellate cases that you found particularly meaningful.

It has been my great honor to represent the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in the Supreme Court, to defend its admissions policy that prioritizes recruiting and enrolling a student body that is diverse along all the dimensions that matter in American life, including race. I never could have imagined having the opportunity to play a lead role in a case of such significance, and I’m deeply grateful for the trust the University placed in me to do it.

Another case I found very meaningful was M.E. v. T.J., where we succeeded in convincing the North Carolina appellate courts that it was unconstitutional to bar persons in same-sex relationships from seeking a domestic-violence protective order. North Carolina was the last state in the nation to have such restrictions, and we worked with the civil-rights and domestic-violence support communities here to challenge them. I was proud to help explain to the courts why the state’s law-enforcement community opposed these outmoded rules as well – not only because they were discriminatory, but also because they harmed public safety.

How often do you encounter other Asian Americans in the appellate field? Why do you think that representation is important?

Not very often, to be honest, especially in the South where I’ve made my home. Lawyers are leaders, and the appellate field is one of the most celebrated and visible aspects of legal practice. To borrow words from Justice O’Connor, for the path to leadership to be visibly open to talented and qualified people of all backgrounds, the appellate bench and bar has to reflect our country’s rich diversity.

What advice would you give to a law student of color who aspires to be where you are now?

The key indispensable skill of an appellate lawyer is to be an excellent and efficient writer. Writing is a skill like any other, and it can be honed and improved through conscious and dedicated commitment. The best advice I can offer for improving as a writer is to read lots of good writing – especially writing for a popular educated audience, like the Atlantic. You also have to write, write, write. Just like you can’t run marathons well unless you’re running all the time, you can’t write Supreme Court briefs well unless you’re writing all the time. Even if the audience is just yourself or your social network, take every opportunity to practice expressing yourself through the written word.

What’s one thing law schools and/or the appellate bar can do to ensure our highest courts are representative of all our communities?

Be a willing mentor to law students and young lawyers of all backgrounds. None of my most cherished professional mentors have been Asian-American. I likewise have tried my best to help talented and motivated young people regardless of whether they share my love of kimchi. Everyone needs a helping hand.