The path to law school is rarely straightforward—especially for those navigating it as first- generation students or members of historically marginalized communities. From grappling with financial pressures to overcoming imposter syndrome in predominantly white institutions, the journey requires resilience, purpose, and community. In this special feature, we sit down with several law students who are not only surviving but thriving in legal academia.

Through candid, question-and-answer-style interviews, these students share the motivations, struggles, and the triumphs that mark their law school journeys. Their stories reflect a deeper truth: the legal field is slowly being reshaped by voices that were once pushed to the margins. By forging ahead, they are creating space for the next generation of future lawyers to rise with greater confidence and clarity.

Logan McMillan is a 1L at UALR William H. Bowen School of Law. Originally from Glendale, Arkansas, Logan identifies as an Anglo-Saxon white male who is the first in his family to go to both undergraduate and law school. When asked how he decided to attend Bowen Law, Logan said, “I’m queer in Arkansas. Life sucks here for us. I do not roll over and accept the things I cannot change. I change the things I cannot accept.”

Shemya Jones is also a 1L at UALR William H. Bowen School of Law. Originally from Warner Robins, Georgia, Shemya identifies as an African American Black female. She is also a first generation undergraduate and law student. When asked how she decided to attend Bowen Law, Shemya answered “I chose my law school because it offers a strong academic program with externship opportunities in the area of law I’m passionate about. I was also drawn to the supportive community that comes with a smaller school, where the closer student-to-professor ratio allows for more personalized guidance and mentorship. I was also awarded some scholarships, which made the cost of attendance very manageable. Going out of state allowed me to fully focus on law school without distractions, and the school’s resources—like mentorship programs and career development—gave me confidence that I would be supported throughout my journey. Ultimately, the combination of affordability, opportunity, and a welcoming environment made it the perfect choice for me.”

Kaleb Mckinon is a recent graduate of Drake University Law School and is in his first year of practicing law. Kaleb identifies as a Black American male originally from Madison, Mississippi. As a first generation law student, Kaleb chose to attend Drake University Law school because he “received a generous scholarship.”

1. Can you tell us a little about your background and what inspired you to pursue a legal
career?

LOGAN M. “Again, I am queer as hell, and I hate what this state stands for. Therefore, I got myself up, and dusted off the weight of all of the oppression that I had experienced from the traditional heterosexist family structure and the Christian Church.”

SHEMYA J. “I’m from Georgia and have lived there my whole life. I grew up in a close-knit, two-parent household—my dad served in the military, and my mom worked for an insurance company. I’m also the oldest sibling, with a younger brother. Growing up, when my parents were at work, I spent a lot of time with my grandmother, either after school or during the summers. What initially inspired me to pursue a legal career was my natural love for debating and expressing my point of view. Even as a kid, I was always eager to make my case and stand my ground, which didn’t go unnoticed! My parents and grandmother would often tell me, “You should be a lawyer,” because of how argumentative and determined I could be. Especially after we had watched an episode of Judge Judy. Over time, that encouragement, combined with my passion for advocating and presenting my perspective, led me to seriously consider a career in law.”

KALEB M. “I have a strong sense of what is fair and what is just. So, when I decided in high school that I wanted to pursue a career as a lawyer, my grandmother actually told me that God told her that I was to be a lawyer and it was His purpose. Therefore, by not wanting to disappoint my younger self, grandmother, and God…I chose to pursue a legal career. An honorable mention would be my mother who loves to say that “Kaleb M. will argue until he has you believing he is right even if he is clearly wrong. A point will always be proven.”’

2. As a first-generation or minority law student, what barriers did you face even before
applying to law school?

LOGAN M. “As both, you are already not expected to make it here. You get here, and people are surprised that you made it. That is already a setback; you already have a “category” that you have been placed in, and other’s expectations are already set. Sexual stereotypes are a larger part of this, especially as a sexual minority.”

SHEMYA J. “As a first-generation undergraduate student, one of the biggest challenges I faced was simply navigating what it meant to go to college. I had to figure out the cost of attending, understand the different majors, and learn how each path could shape my future career. Over time, all of that became second nature, and I was able to adjust to college life. However, when it came to pursuing graduate education—especially law school—that was a whole different ball game.

Understanding what the LSAT was, how much time and effort went into preparing for it, and managing that process was a huge challenge. Even now, as a 1L in my second semester, I’m still learning and figuring out the various requirements—everything from excelling in classes to handling paperwork and understanding that graduate loans are entirely different from undergraduate loans. As a minority student, I also faced the added challenge of being away from home. Moving to Arkansas for law school, without any friends or family nearby, made me nervous about whether I would be able to find a community and build meaningful connections. Thankfully, I’ve been blessed to find amazing friends here who have made this place feel like a second home, even though I’m miles away from where I grew up.”

KALEB M. “In all honesty, although a minority I did not face very many barriers of entry when applying to law school. One reason is due to socioeconomic standing and having undergraduate and advanced degree holders in my corner meant that I had access to how applying for law school worked in the grand scheme of things. I understand that I am the exception and not the norm when it comes to this question.”

3. Was there a specific moment or experience that solidified your decision to become a
lawyer?

LOGAN M. “The murder of Mr. George Floyd and the year 2021. In 2021, we saw the largest influx of anti-LGBTQ+ laws in the history of this nation. I decided I was here to fight. The truest form of justice is found in the moral obligation to protect the least among us.”

SHEMYA J. “A specific moment that solidified my decision to become a lawyer was during high school when I was part of our debate team. Our debate format was more of a relay style, where each person on the five-person team had two minutes to add to the argument, giving each side a total of 10 minutes. After both sides presented, we would choose one representative to deliver the concluding argument—similar to a closing argument in a courtroom. I was often chosen for that final moment, and having my team put their trust in me to present our case and persuade the judges was an incredible feeling. It was in those moments that I realized I had the ability to articulate a strong argument and effectively convey my point of view. That experience gave me the confidence to believe that I could pursue a career where those same skills—persuasion, critical thinking, and advocacy—would be at the forefront, which ultimately solidified my decision to become a lawyer.”

KALEB M. “Yes. It was the moment during orientation when I realized how “Black” I was being one of three in my law school class of one hundred and eighteen students. I knew then that becoming a lawyer was my purpose and that there was no other possible path forward for me. Especially, when you think about how Black Americans make up such a large population of our prison system, yet we are only 13% of America’s population. Furthermore, the statistics for Black lawyers is dismal and I believed God placed me there to be a tide for change.”

4. What does the phrase “take up space” mean to you?

LOGAN M. “Get your ass up and go into spaces that many say you do not belong. Shirley Chisholm, the first African American woman elected to US Congress, once said “if they do not give you a seat at the table, bring a folding chair.” Bring a folding chair.”

SHEMYA J. “I feel like the phrase “take up space” is interrupted with a negative connotation—like something or someone is occupying space where they don’t belong or aren’t needed. It carries the idea of being out of place or taking up room that could be used for something or someone else. I have only ever heard this phrase used in a negative connotation.”

KALEB M. “The phrase “take up space” is my life motto. I am the room. I am the moment. I am the leader.”

Reading each of their responses, it becomes clear that there is no one path into law—only personal truths, lived experiences, and the quiet push of something (or someone) greater: a grandmother’s prayer, a debate stage, the weight of injustice. What connects Logan, Shemya, and Kaleb is not just their commitment to advocacy, but the very different realities they have had to navigate to even imagine law school as a possibility. Their motivations speak to something bigger than just a career. For Logan, the law is both armor and weapon against a system that targets queer and marginalized people. For Shemya, it’s a lifelong echo of her voice being heard—and trusted—in spaces where clarity and conviction matter. And for Kaleb, its purpose incarnate, a deeply spiritual alignment with justice and representation. Together, their stories remind us that the decision to pursue law is rarely made in a vacuum. It’s shaped by community, by loss, by visibility—or the lack of it. It’s shaped by the awareness that to “take up space” is to challenge expectations and shift the center of gravity in institutions that weren’t built for us. But choosing law school is just the beginning. The path through it is something else entirely. For many first-generation and minority students, stepping through the door is only the first battle. What comes next is a collision with systems that weren’t designed for them to thrive—an ongoing negotiation of identity, access, and resilience.

1. What were some of the biggest challenges you faced during the law school admissions
process?

LOGAN M. “The LSAT. The test was instituted originally to keep African Americans out of the legal profession, and it was righteous for it to be abolished. It is systematically racist. “

SHEMYA J. “One of the biggest challenges I faced during the law school admissions process was deciding whether to stay in-state or go out of state. Staying in-state had the advantage of being close to family and friends, allowing me to maintain my support system and continue life as usual—just with the added achievement of law school. However, I realized that staying in that familiar environment might have made it harder for me to fully shift my mindset and treat law school like the full-time commitment that it is. Going out of state, while daunting, gave me the space to focus entirely on this new chapter without the distractions of my usual routine.

Another major challenge was definitely the LSAT. The weight that the LSAT carries in the admissions process was overwhelming at times. I struggled with feeling limited in my options because some of the schools I was interested in seemed out of reach based on my score. It was disheartening to wonder if I should wait another year and retake the LSAT or move forward and trust that I was still good enough. That internal pressure and self-doubt were difficult to navigate, but ultimately, I stayed committed to my goal and kept pushing forward.”

KALEB M. “The waiting period to hear back from schools and whether you received scholarship money to assist in attending said school. One specific instance is receiving my acceptance to Howard University during orientation at Drake Law.”

2. How did you navigate imposter syndrome or feelings of not belonging in legal spaces?

LOGAN M. “That’s easy. Shut those voices in your mind off. Discipline your mind to overcome those voices and systems of oppression. And say “fuck you” to the establishment.”

SHEMYA J. “I’ve definitely experienced imposter syndrome and feelings of not belonging or being on the same level as my classmates—especially when homesickness kicks in and all I want to do is go home. Keeping up with the workload while trying to fully grasp the concepts, only to see my peers picking things up more quickly, sometimes makes me feel like I’m not good enough or that I don’t measure up.

I still feel that way at times, but what’s really getting me through is the support from my professors and friends. My professors have reassured me that it gets easier and better over time, and they’ve emphasized that the first semester, especially as a 1L, is all about figuring out what study methods work best for me since law school is so different from undergrad. That constant encouragement and the connections I’ve built have made a huge difference in helping me push through.”

KALEB M. “To be frank, the imposter syndrome I experienced was a projection from my classmates. I have never a day in my life thought I did not belong in a room and/or space. However, being surrounded by a bunch of people who felt inferior made me start to doubt myself and my abilities. This is why I would say it is important to go to a HBCU for law school, because being in a room with people who do not look like you will foster the spirit of imposter syndrome.”

3. Have you encountered bias or systemic hurdles in law school, and how have you addressed them?

LOGAN M. “Gender bias is the top one. I think that law schools and higher education at large do not advocate and promote the voices of trans and gender non-conforming individuals. As a genderqueer individual, I see that the institution sticks to a very binary philosophy and enforces that via their complacency and silence.”

SHEMYA J. “One of the biggest systemic hurdles I’ve encountered in law school is the lack of connections and established networks, especially as an out-of-state student. During OCI (On-Campus Interviews), I noticed that many of my classmates were already familiar with the firms—either because they had previously interviewed or clerked with them, or because they had family members, mentors, or other connections in the legal field.

Being surrounded by peers who have that kind of built-in support and access can feel overwhelming, and at times, it’s made me feel like I’m in a race where I’m starting from the back. Without those connections, I’ve had to be more intentional about seeking out networking opportunities, asking questions, and building relationships from scratch. I’ve leaned heavily on my professors, career services, and the mentors I’ve connected with along the way to help bridge that gap. While it’s been challenging, it’s also taught me resilience and the importance of creating my own path, even when the odds feel stacked against me.”

KALEB M. “A major systemic hurdle is that the law is not for US. It is designed to be digested by the majority or those who come from a family of lawyers. So, during 1L year it was difficult to get a grasp of the language, but once I did the hurdle was no longer present.”

4. What forms of support (mentorship, student organizations, community) have been most
valuable in your journey?

LOGAN M. “I have recently come into contact with BLSA (Black Law Students Association). These people have known oppression for the entirety of my life, and there is absolutely nothing more valuable than sharing the school experience with them and learning from them.”

SHEMYA J. “The support I’ve received from the student organizations I’m part of, as well as the overall community at Bowen, has been incredibly valuable in my journey. Even though I don’t have the same connections that many of my peers do, the people around me have gone out of their way to share opportunities and information to help level the playing field.

BLSA has not only provided me with resources and guidance but also created a strong sense of belonging and support. Whether it’s through mentorship, networking events, or simply having a space where I feel heard and understood. The community at Bowen has helped me navigate law school and given me the confidence to keep pushing forward.”

KALEB M. “Community. I had to build a community of Black law students during my time at Drake Law. It was truly the only reason I made it through.”

5. Have you ever felt triggered or targeted while in law school? Please share your experience.

LOGAN M. “The Christian population definitely has something to say about my experience. When I critique the system of oppression that is the Christian Church, they definitely want to target my narrative, and they grow frustrated when I do not back down and they find out that I am also a Christian. The only way I respond is with a: “get used to it, I’ll be here a while.” Rev. Dr. Cornel West once said “you must let suffering speak if you want to hear the truth.” The same is applicable to this topic.”

SHEMYA J. “Personally, I have not felt targeted during my time in law school. However, I have heard from friends about their experiences, which has made me more aware of the challenges that others have faced. I think one reason I haven’t experienced this directly is because I tend to stick closely to my support group and don’t engage as much with everyone outside of that circle. Additionally, I haven’t had classes with some of the professors who have a reputation for making students feel targeted, which may have also contributed to my more positive experience.”

KALEB M. “I felt targeted every day. Being one of three Black law students in your cohort is a battle that requires a magnitude of mental gymnastics that takes a toll on you. I had become so broken that I needed therapy in order to overcome the struggle.”

The law school journey doesn’t begin on the first day of class—it starts long before that, often in quiet tension with a system that wasn’t built with us in mind. For minority and first-gen students, the application process itself can feel like a gauntlet. Whether it’s the LSAT—a tool many, like Logan, rightfully critique as historically exclusionary—or the internal conflict of leaving home, like Shemya wrestled with, the road in is paved with hard decisions and moments of doubt. Kaleb reminds us that even when access is available, the uncertainty doesn’t disappear, especially when you're holding out hope for financial aid or waiting on the right school to say yes.

Once inside, the challenges evolve, but they don’t disappear. Imposter syndrome creeps in, sometimes not from within, but through the projections of classmates or institutional silence. Logan meets it with fierce resistance, rejecting the system’s attempt to define his worth. Shemya leans into mentorship and the steady voices of professors reminding her that growth takes time. Kaleb, ever direct, names what many quietly feel: that sometimes just being one of the only Black students in the room is a psychological burden all its own. That loneliness, that weight, becomes a form of oppression too.

Systemic bias, both overt and subtle, shows up in the shape of exclusion, from gender norms that erase nonbinary voices to elite legal networks that operate more like closed circles than meritocracies. And still, these students carve out spaces of care and courage. For all of them, community is not just helpful—it’s vital. Organizations like BLSA become more than just student groups; they’re sanctuaries, proving over and over again that solidarity is a form of resistance. What resonates most is that surviving law school isn’t just about mastering legal doctrine. It’s about confronting trauma, resisting erasure, and finding the people and spaces that make the grind survivable. Some wounds—like being one of the only Black students in a predominantly white cohort—cut deep, requiring not just community, but therapy, self-affirmation, and spiritual grounding. Others are quieter but no less harmful: the missed connections, the coded language, the professors you learn to avoid.

Through it all, these students persist. Not because it’s easy, but because their presence is itself a form of protest, purpose, and power.

1. What strategies have helped you thrive academically and professionally in law school?

LOGAN M. “Know yourself. Be yourself. That is it.”

SHEMYA J. “I try to really focus on time management and staying organized with a structured schedule that balances classwork and personal time. I’ve found that experimenting with different study methods, like outlining and practice exams, helps me retain and apply information effectively. Professionally, networking through student organizations, career services, and externships has helped me gain practical experience and build valuable connections in the legal field.”

KALEB M. “The name of the game is networking. It will never be about what you know. It will always be about who you know. This profession still operates in the good ole’ boy system. So, put yourself out there and make genuine connections in order to propel your career forward. Do well in school but remember that only gets you so far.”

2. How do you balance the demands of law school with personal and financial responsibilities?

LOGAN M. “I am extremely blessed. My school scholarships and refunds cover me financially. However, I do not have much of a personal life, but I would say taking breaks to hang out with the girls is always a decompression and a great time.”

SHEMYA J. “I do my best to budget the money I receive, including the VA benefits I receive from my dad, which help cover rent and groceries. For law school, I’m taking out graduate loans to cover expenses, so I make sure to budget carefully each month to avoid overspending. My budget includes essentials like groceries, occasional dining out, and social activities with friends, ensuring I stay within a reasonable spending limit.”

KALEB M. “I did not work during law school and received a stipend. So, financially I just budgeted my stipend to meet my needs until I worked an internship during the summer.”

3. Have you found a strong sense of community among other first-generation and minority students?

LOGAN M. “Absolutely yes. It is so important to have an intersectional perspective on this as well. Do not only engage with YOUR marginalized community. Engage with all of them. You all are not under the same oppression, but you are all still under oppression generally. Therefore, you need to build a coalition of minority students to resist the white supremacist, misogynistic, and heterosexist hierarchy that faces us in American society and the legal field.”

SHEMYA J. “As a first-generation student and a minority, I definitely gravitate toward others who share similar experiences. We understand the unique challenges of getting to this point without the same guidance or resources that others might have, like family members who’ve already navigated law school or the legal field. It's empowering to connect with others who are also taking that leap of faith and learning how to navigate everything from LSAT prep to OCI interviews and study methods. We can share advice and support each other in ways that help us compete on a level playing field, even without that initial knowledge.”

KALEB M. “Yes. If it were not for the Black alumni and Black upperclassmen, I do not think that I could have stayed at Drake and finished my degree at that institution.”

4. What do you wish you would have known before beginning your legal journey?

LOGAN M. “ The importance of knowing yourself, and being stubborn. Do not let anyone tell you what you are capable of or how far you can get. Be stubborn. Keep your head down and work your butt off.”

SHEMYA J. “I wish I had known just how heavy the workload would be and how important it is to find a balance without burning out. I also wish I understood that taking mental health days is okay and necessary. Dealing with imposter syndrome can really take a toll, leading to feelings of depression and self-doubt. There were times I felt behind, but in reality, I was likely right on track with the rest of the class, and acknowledging those feelings earlier would have helped me manage the stress more effectively.”

KALEB M. “I wish that I would have done more research on the importance of choosing not only the school you will attend but the location. A lot of law schools place the majority of their graduates within the state in which they sit. So, to all prospective students…location, location, location.”

While the paths may differ, these students share a common truth: law school is not just about mastering doctrine—it’s about mastering yourself. Whether it's learning to trust your instincts like Logan, building structure and balance like Shemya, or leveraging connections like Kaleb, each of them has found their rhythm in a system not always designed for them. They’ve also made it clear that no amount of academic excellence can replace the value of community. For first-gen and minority students, having peers who “get it”—who understand what it means to navigate this space without legacy, without wealth, and often without a roadmap—can be the difference between isolation and inspiration. They lean on each other, lift one another, and build networks not just to survive, but to thrive.

Still, there are lessons they wish they’d known sooner: how overwhelming the pressure can be, how essential location is to career trajectory, and how important it is to carve space for rest. These are not just regrets—they're insights. Warnings wrapped in wisdom for those who will come after them. But knowing how to succeed doesn’t mean the path has been free from resistance. In the next section, we turn toward the deeper, more painful truths: the systemic barriers that still remain and the personal costs of pushing through them.

1. How do you see yourself using your law degree to advocate for others or effect change?

LOGAN M. “The black and brown communities need our help. Queer death is upon my community because of our nation’s fervent violation of our human rights. The poor and the indigent can not access quality legal representation. These are the people I am interested in; therefore, utilizing my degree to enable any degree of social liberation and justice will be just fine with me, and I can die happy and content.”

SHEMYA J. “I see myself using my law degree to advocate for others through litigation, as I feel it’s the career path that aligns with my passion for justice. Whether in prosecution or defense, I believe I can make a significant impact. As a prosecutor, I would work to ensure justice for victims, holding offenders accountable and helping protect the community. On the defense side, I could advocate for innocent individuals, ensuring they aren’t wrongfully convicted due to improper police work or rushed investigations, and fight for their right to a fair trial.”

KALEB M. “I will not. I will be working in a corporate setting.”

2. What advice would you give to future first-generation or minority students considering
law school?

LOGAN M. “Be stubborn. Take your place. Do not wait for approval. Do not listen to anyone who casts any doubt on your dreams. Dream your dreams; see your visions, and pursue them.”

SHEMYA J. “My advice to first-gen and minority students would be to trust in your abilities, even when imposter syndrome sets in. Build a strong support network through mentors, student organizations, and friends, and don’t hesitate to ask for help when needed. Law school is challenging, but you belong there, and your perspective is valuable. Take care of your mental health, set boundaries, and remember that it's okay to take breaks for long-term success.”

KALEB M. “Only attend law school if being a lawyer is truly what you are being called to do. It is not a placeholder degree. You should truly want to learn the law. If the answer to that is uncertainty, please explore other options, because law school will always be there. I am a firm believer that becoming a lawyer makes a phenomenal second career.”

3. What changes would you like to see in legal education to make it more accessible and
inclusive?

LOGAN M. “Abolishing the bar exam. This has kept our communities of color and queer scholars from entering the legal system, and has caused a disparate impact for many years. It has disabled the diversification of our field. Therefore, I call for its abolition. This is already happening in states around our country, and I will fervently stand on my moral belief to enable social justice. Creating mandatory cultural competency sessions to enable interaction between communities of color, queer communities, and the indigent. This will allow the entire student body to confront a radically shifting society and culture and will prepare them for the outside world.”

SHEMYA J. “A way to help law schools be more accessible, I believe, would be in offering targeted support for first-generation and minority students, including mentorship programs and resources tailored to their needs. Increasing faculty diversity and providing leadership opportunities for underrepresented groups is also crucial. Expanding scholarships and financial aid options would help ease financial burdens, while fostering a culture where all students feel valued and empowered to succeed.”

KALEB M. “ I think the current barriers to entry need to be reevaluated to provide more access and inclusivity. There is a need for the barriers, but in their current form they are rooted in white supremacy.”

In the final stretch of our conversation, I asked each student to speak candidly about what the future holds. For Logan, the vision is crystal clear: law is a tool for liberation. His commitment to BIPOC, queer, and poor communities runs through every word like a lifeline. He is not looking for prestige or applause, but for justice. Logan sees his degree not as a ticket into elite circles but as a shield—and a sword—for those most violently impacted by the legal system’s failures. His purpose is urgent, unflinching, and deeply rooted in love for his
community.

Shemya, grounded and intentional, sees litigation as the battlefield where she can make the most impact. Whether in prosecution or defense, her eyes are on fairness, accountability, and protecting the integrity of the system for those who’ve too often been trampled by it. Her approach is clear-eyed, but tender, a reminder that justice is not abstract; it’s deeply personal.

And Kaleb? Kaleb reminds us that justice work doesn’t only live in public interest or courtrooms. His decision to enter the corporate world is neither cynical nor disengaged; it’s honest. Not every law student of color is called to carry the banner of representation in public service, especially when the cost is one’s peace or sanity. For Kaleb, success isn’t measured by proximity to struggle but by agency, stability, and the choice to chart his own way. His refusal to romanticize the law is, in itself, a powerful critique.

When asked what advice they’d give to students who look like them, their answers were striking in their diversity, but aligned in one essential truth: be intentional. Whether that means holding fast to your dreams, building community, asking for help, or walking away altogether until you’re sure—it all counts. There’s no right way to enter this profession, only your way.

And what would it take to make legal education more humane, more inclusive? Abolish the bar exam, says Logan. Break down the very gates that have long kept out the people we most need in this work. Create space—real, structural space—for queer and BIPOC students to be more than just survivors in a hostile institution. For Shemya, it’s about building intentional support systems, diversifying leadership, and empowering students from the moment they walk in the door. And Kaleb names the truth we often avoid: the existing barriers are rooted in white supremacy. We can’t reform this system without first reckoning with where it came from.

As the interview came to a close, I was struck by how none of these students are asking to be exceptional. They’re asking to be seen, to be supported, and to be allowed to exist fully in a space that wasn’t built for them, but that they are actively reshaping. Their stories don’t end with a neat bow, but they do leave a powerful message for those coming next:

You belong here—but only on your terms.

And if the system doesn’t change fast enough? Make your own space. Bring your people with you. And never apologize for taking up every inch of the room you’ve earned.