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

My father’s family is Jewish and is from New York City and Eastern Europe. He runs a small business. My mother’s family is Catholic and is from many places but her father was Ecuadorian. She’s a professor. I grew up in a college town in New Jersey. There were people from different cultures, religions, ethnicities, and races but the unifying force for many in town was the university. That made learning and, especially the written word, an important part of many people’s lives. That was certainly true for me. But, learning also mattered to me because I was dyslexic and learned to read later and slower than many of my peers. So, in the beginning learning was a source of insecurity and shame for me. As I grew older, though, and learned to read with the help of my patient and supportive parents, I felt a special sense of accomplishment and pride, that I never took for granted. That love of learning has been one of the driving forces of my professional life.

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

As a dyslexic child that struggled academically, becoming a lawyer seemed impossible, at times.

Luckily, my parents and many of my teachers supported me and eventually, I realized that I could go to college and even graduate school. Initially, I wanted to be an academic, like my mother and the many wonderful professors I met in college. Then, after spending a summer in Brazil, researching my undergraduate thesis and witnessing extraordinary and ordinary injustices, I became interested in the law and public service.

What was your law school experience like?

At first, law school was intimidating and I worried that I would not be able to succeed. I even had a recurring nightmare that I forgot how to read. As I spent more time with my classmates, though, I realized that many shared some of my insecurities, regardless of their disabilities or background. I also began to see my experience with dyslexia as an asset because it taught me to feel comfortable feeling ignorant and asking for help. I found a sense of community in the Law School’s little worlds, as a research assistant for professors, member of the Worker and Immigrant Rights Advocacy Clinic, and co-chair of the Alliance for Diversity and Latinx Law Student Association. I received support from professors and students of various backgrounds but they all shared a commitment to excellence and pluralism.

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 learned about appellate work through a law school clinic. I became interested in it because it forced me to practice reading and writing, skills that I struggled with as a child but learned to love.

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

In law school, I represented a man who had been mistakenly deported, after living in the U.S. for decades, serving in the U.S. Army, marrying a U.S. citizen, and fathering a U.S. citizen child. In essence, he submitted a naturalization application but the government never processed it. While the application was pending, his life fell apart and he lost his legal permanent residency. After years of advocacy and many trial court and appellate briefs, the client became a U.S. citizen and returned home. I met him at the airport, with his family and a group of current and former students and professors who had represented him. I cried telling that story a few months ago because it shows the law’s power to push families apart and bring them together.

Why do you think it's important to have people with diverse backgrounds, including people with disabilities, in the appellate field?

Great appellate lawyers can come from all different backgrounds and the law benefits from great lawyers on both sides of any argument. So, when the field draws from some groups and not others, we all miss out on the contributions from that excluded group’s members.

What advice would you give to an underrepresented law student, such as a person of color and/or person with a disability, who aspires to be where you are now?

Everything you do is practice for the next big case. With that perspective, there’s no failure, just learning.