Perspective
Apr. 9, 2016
'What I Told My Daughter'
In her new book, entertainment executive Nina Tassler has brought together a powerful, diverse group of women — including Chief Justice Tani Cantil-Sakauye, who contributed a chapter — to reflect on the advice they have given their daughters.
Tani Cantil-Sakauye
UC Davis School of Law, 1984
In "What I Told My Daughter," Nina Tassler has brought together a powerful, diverse group of women - including Chief Justice Cantil-Sakauye, who contributed a chapter called "The Rules" - to reflect on the advice they have given their daughters.
BOOK EXCERPT
THE RULES - Moms and judges have a lot in common. We recognize that clear, bright-line rules must be adhered to. But we also recognize that some rules lack precision. And sometimes there aren't any rules. In either case, we bring our training, our experience, our reason, and our intuition to help us illuminate the path forward. ...
Of course, sometimes the rules are clear. But even when they are, they can be followed strategically. Take basketball, for instance.
When they were younger, my daughters were tall for their ages and played center positions. They were scratched, stepped on, shoved, elbowed in the ribs, and occasionally knocked down. Of all the basketball rules, I taught my girls, the most important one is this: You get four fouls; on the fifth foul you are taken out of the game. Rules are meant to encourage appropriate behavior and if that doesn't work, then the rules are meant to punish poor behavior. In a rough game, I told my daughters, when you are getting kicked around and the referees are asleep at the whistle, then use four of your fouls. I'll keep track of them, I told them. Use the rules to your advantage; don't waste opportunities. They didn't.
Finally, some things should never have rules. Like career paths. When I became the Chief Justice of California in 2011, both young and seasoned lawyers wondered what kind of calculated path I followed to become the first ethnic minority and second female to hold the position of chief justice in the state.
Truth be told, I didn't have a plan. But along the way, I met lawyers who saw the future of the bench and bar as something other than patrilineal institutions. I am a beneficiary of time and circumstance - and of male and female lawyers and judges - who saw the future and me in it.
After law school and the bar exam in 1984, my only plan was to get a job. With no leads, no connections, and no holds barred, I applied everywhere.
When a temporary opening at the district attorney's office was offered to me, I sincerely knew I wanted to be a deputy district attorney - whatever the job entailed. And where exactly was the courthouse again? Little did I know that as a prosecutor I would fulfill a lifelong dream: engaging in merit-based arguments and getting to have the last word. It was a dream come true for a well-mannered, Filipina youngest child with two big dominant brothers. I threw myself into trial work with such relish that I bemoaned the weekends when court was closed. Trial preparation and trial work gave me the confidence I needed, the experience I lacked, and the resilience to interpret the word "no" as "find another way."
Working as a deputy district attorney and participating in supportive bar organizations, I came to believe that anything was possible. I ignored advice that I couldn't get a job in the governor's office because I didn't have government law experience. I didn't calculate my odds. When I did get the job, I immersed myself in the work of the executive and legislative branches. I was appointed to the bench when I was thirty years old. I have been appointed to four levels of the bench by three different governors. I accepted each appointment thinking it would be my last.
During my trial court tenure, I became a wife and a mother. For a few years I put the legal community on hold and went deep undercover into nursery school, Brownie troops, basketball, and gymnastics. I let everyone know that I was putting family first and they should too. Although I knew my résumé would no longer look like a male judge's résumé, I look back on those years with unbridled joy. In each new position, I was sorry to let the last position go.
As I reflect on my path, I'm able to offer some very simple career advice to my college-age daughters: Ignore the rules of the common career trajectory. Work hard. Maintain a good attitude. Serve the public - and never forget to follow your inner Heelys.
Tani G. Cantil-Sakauye is chief justice of California.
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