A Myth about Mentors

Mentoring is my jam.

It brings me joy and fulfillment, gives me purpose, and quite frankly, makes my soul sing.

Does it mean that I’m infallible or have all the answers?

Definitely not.

Needless to say, there are a few myths about what it means to be a mentor.

Let’s start with the definition, shall we?

A scan of the internet leads me to settle on: “trusted advisor or guide,” “tutor or coach.”

Nowhere in that definition is the inference that a mentor is “perfect,” or a “know-it-all.” Nowhere does it say that my word should be gospel (because it simply isn’t or shouldn’t be).

Mentor Myth No. 1: That mentors are infallible.

I know that this one sounds like a no-brainer. After all, everyone is human, and no human is perfect. But this myth still deserves to be busted. Because as a vulnerable, law student, who battled with her own insecurities about her identity as the “smart one,” who found herself at the bottom half of her class after 1L year, I was desperate for guidance and put blind trust in mentors, who I forgot were human, with their own narratives, perspectives and limitations (more bluntly, self-interest).

I hate to start on a darker note, but truths should be told.

I had an incredible mentor, whom I trusted deeply – smart, unpretentious, candid, and generous with his time and coaching. He helped me on my advocacy skills, and he encouraged me to be a trial lawyer. Not once did he talk about anything inappropriate. Not once did he compliment me physically or flirt with me.

One time, he showed up at my parents’ gas station to fill up on gas. No big deal – he was just in the neighborhood….. except he lived in Dallas, and I lived in Kaufman (that’s about a 30 mile difference). Believe it or not, no spidey senses went off yet.

However, one night, my mentor called me very late – noticeably intoxicated, asking me whether we had a chance, if he left his wife (with whom he had two beautiful kids), whom I had met and respected. My heart pounded into my chest, and a lump formed in my throat, as I asked him if I could call him a cab, as he continued to slur his words.

After that call, I avoided him for a few weeks, not sure what to do. After he confronted me, and asked me why I was being such a cold b!%@& all of a sudden, I started bawling and telling him about the call. I expected an apology and naively thought that we could forget all about it and move on (after all, he was drunk), but what ensued was denial, and a threat that if I ever told anyone, he would make sure that no one would hire me. I was a 3L.

I hate to go there – to share an ugly one-off experience I had – but in my years of mentoring, I’ve heard too many “whispers” from female law students and young lawyers, who are afraid to share their stories out of fear of retaliation, who blame themselves for smiling too much or letting their guard down simply because they couldn’t imagine that a well-respected lawyer or judge lauded by the community could possibly cross the line of propriety.

For the most part, I wholeheartedly believe that mentoring is a positive experience, and that most of us, do our best and give our time out of a true commitment to the future of our profession, but the reality is that it can get messy because we are not infallible.

Mentor Myth No. 2: That mentors have all the answers.

This myth is a slight variance of the one above. I distinctly recall asking a mentor what the difference between a transactional practice and litigation practice was. I don’t recall getting an answer, but I do vividly remember the mentor tell me that I was not cut out for litigation because I was too nice and naive, and any trial lawyer would eat me for lunch. (She also told me not to drink beer from a bottle because it was unbecoming and would send the wrong message). As a 2L, I was devastated, and suddenly, very self-conscious about what “messages” I was inadvertently sending.

For what it’s worth, I was a commercial litigator for 5 years, and then an employment litigator for another 5, before going in house, so it ultimately didn’t stop me from pursing trial advocacy, but my point is that it could have. Had I taken her unsolicited advice as gospel, my career could have looked every different. To that mentor’s defense, I also recall not getting an offer from a defense firm during 3L year, and one of the partners was kind enough to tell me (when I ran into her at my favorite wine bar) that I seemed too empathetic and eager to save the world to be a good fit. Looking back, I believe that my mentor really was looking out for me, but she was limited by the lens of her own experiences and narratives.

My humble take: it’s important for you to know that while I share my experiences with you as a mentor, my narrative does not and should not define yours.

My experiences – successes and failures — are meant to give you another perspective – something you had not thought of before. Mentors’ sharing of experiences are meant to expand your possibilities and give you things to consider, a fresh perspective, but they are not meant to limit you, or even tell you what you should do (or not do).

Mentors can certainly share insight and tips on what worked for them and what paths they took, but at the end of the day, you need to do what you think is best for you.