In Pro Per

By Mia Frances Yamamoto
     
      Transitioning
      After practicing criminal defense in Los Angeles for over 30 years as a male, I recently decided to come out as a transgender woman--a decision that, though many decades in coming, was, at least for me, inevitable and inescapable. At the outset I had some trepidation about how I would be received. I had heard about other people who made the transition; however, I had never met or heard of another trial lawyer doing what I was about to do.
      I knew I needed to notify everyone. I was hoping that my transition could happen with as little attention as possible. I started by coming out to my office partner, John, with whom I'd shared space and camaraderie for years. Our shared lease was coming due, and he needed to decide whether to continue with me. He did. Next, I went to all of my clients, to inform them early enough for them to obtain new counsel if they wanted. They all agreed to continue with me, most without any hesitation. I sent letters to the judges and opposing counsel in my pending cases. I started dressing as a woman when I went to the office, jails, and police stations. I started living full time as a woman. However, my next step--coming out in court--was more daunting. I was worried about offending or disturbing people I had known, and worked with, for so long.
      My first court appearance as a woman was a pretrial conference in Division 50 of the downtown criminal court building. I decided to wear a conservative black pantsuit and black shoes, along with a blouse and jewelry that had been given to me by my friends and family. I felt nervous and wanted to carry their love and support with me. I drove to the courthouse, parked in the lot, passed through the metal detectors, and milled about with the masses surging toward the elevators, just as I had done a thousand times before. Except this time I was dressed as a woman. By the time I reached Division 50 and met my client, I had experienced a few double takes, raised eyebrows, dropped jaws, and even a few angry glares, but no comments or questions.
      Once the courtroom doors opened and the court personnel began to trickle in, I saw a DA whom I'd known for years. She looked me up and down, then asked the perfect first question: "So, what do we call you now?" I replied, "I call myself Mia. Thanks." I love that question because it presumes that our relationship will continue regardless of the change. I negotiated with another prosecutor, agreed on a continuance, and had the clerk call the case. The judge, whom I'd also known for years, quickly took the bench, called the case, asked for our appearances, took the waivers, scheduled a return date, and went back to his chambers as though noticing nothing different. In fact, almost the entire courtroom behaved as though nothing was different. I was thrilled.
      Two months later an article about my gender transition was published in the Los Angeles Daily Journal. It probably explained me better than I could myself. Afterward, I got emails from three other transgender criminal defense lawyers. It was great to learn that I was not alone. I received many more messages--from lawyers and judges, old friends and colleagues--all overwhelmingly positive and supportive. As I continued to make court appearances, I was received warmly by prosecutors, clerks, bailiffs, judges, and reporters. I was regularly greeted with hugs, kisses, and congratulations, especially from my women friends. I could hardly believe the level of acceptance and inclusion I received in the wake of the article. I was humbled to tears by how badly I had underestimated the goodwill of almost everyone around me.
      Since then, as I slowly recover from my sex-reassignment surgery, I have--except from a single judge and a few lawyers--encountered nothing but kindness and concern. I had braced for the worst, but so far, at least, my reception has been far more benevolent than I ever expected. Because I know how difficult it must be for everyone, I am honored and profoundly thankful every time I am addressed as "Mia" or "Ms. Yamamoto," as well as every time I am referred to by a female pronoun. My transition in court has been more joyful and more fulfilling than I ever thought possible.
      When I first began, I saw my transition as a process of struggle and liberation. I now see it as a journey of love, appreciation, and enlightenment. And I see my professional community as more evolved, more loving, and more beautiful than I ever realized.
     
      Mia Frances Yamamoto (MYambone@aol.com) is a criminal defense lawyer in Los Angeles.
     

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