DLA Piper associate Cai Cherry on ‘bringing your full self to work’, intersectionality and the importance of active allyship
How easy did you find it to come out professionally, and what were the biggest barriers you had to overcome before you felt ready to come out at work?
When I was growing up, I comforted myself with the idea that even if I was never out, even if I never fell in love or started a family, I could still be successful. I studied hard and lived almost to the point where I forgot I was queer to start with.
But then at university, I found myself slowly embracing the freedoms I had denied myself: wearing the clothes I had envied, watching the TV shows I wanted, listening to the music I liked, and falling in love with the people I was attracted to. I was never ‘in’ at work because it all became so clear that I didn’t have to be.
That’s not to say it’s been smooth sailing: my first supervisor told me that I wasn’t hired to bring my full self to work, I was hired to do my job. But his narrow mind couldn’t comprehend that I was doing my job – and doing a good job at that – because of, not in spite of, the fact I was bringing my full self to work.
I am a good lawyer because I’m confident, because I can understand and empathise with my clients, and because I truly love what I do. I don’t think I could do or be any of those things if I was hiding who I was.
What motivated you to actively use your voice to advocate for LGBTQ+ voices in the legal sector?
I was a pretty nerdy kid, obsessed with reading about history and politics and law. I grew up in a small village in the middle of the English countryside – a place that doesn’t celebrate, or even acknowledge, queer people – so diving into the stories of people who could be themselves was how I coped.
I remember when the US Supreme Court legalised gay marriage across the US in Obergefell v Hodges, and reading Justice Kennedy’s majority opinion, where he declared that the hope of the gay couples was ‘not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.’ I grew up being told from a young age that gay marriage wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair, but I found solace in the law; in the idea that a single piece of paper can contain so much hope, can give so much joy, and can stand up for people who need it.
Law gave me so much, it wouldn’t have been fair to not try to give back as much as I can and ensure the same promise that was there for me can be there for everyone: that no matter who you are, no matter how lonely you feel, you have an ally in the law – something so imperfect but with so much potential, an ideal that we can keep striving to meet. Now that I’m a lawyer, you have an ally in me. That motivates me every day.
How much obligation do you feel to be a role model within the industry? How helpful are role models in pushing change?
It is so easy to think something isn’t your problem. When it comes to equality, to justice, it is all of our problem.
I don’t feel an obligation to be a role model – and I’m not sure that anyone would really see me as one, anyway. But I do feel an unavoidable and irrepressible obligation to say what is right and to do what is right, as much and as often as I can.
There are so few queer people in law, and the ones I am lucky enough to work with (both as colleagues and clients) give me so much strength and hope and comfort, but the sector as a whole is struggling to diversify. Despite what law firms might say, we have always followed our clients in culture, in technology, in growth, and in inclusion. I think my value as a role model is limited: I cannot force change, I can only encourage it. The real value comes from clients demanding their lawyers are as inclusive as they are. I think that’s the only way we will see concrete change.
Regarding your identity as both queer and disabled, how important is recognising intersectionality, and how has your own experience with intersectionality impacted your career?
I came out as queer, and a month later I became disabled. It was a real rollercoaster of a four weeks. I had just started to understand one part of me, and all of a sudden there was a whole different part of me I had to come to grips with pretty quickly, and it was impossible to separate the two in my life.
I am lucky enough to have co-founded and now lead my firm’s disability pro bono practice, alongside my colleague Ashleigh Alli, who is a racial justice specialist, and my colleague Chris Rennie, who founded the first law firm LGBTQ+ network pro bono practice at DLA Piper. We are also building new pro bono offerings for gender equity, social mobility, and families and carers.
We work together not because we recognise intersectionality, but because it is unavoidable (plus I really like working with both of them!). If you try to segregate issues and not look at them holistically, you’re missing the entire puzzle, not just a piece, and you end up doing a worse job overall.
What does the legal sector need to do better to include people from the LGBTQ+ community and provide support?
As we saw in Obergefell, and as we have seen in famous cases in the UK, like Dudgeon or Goodwin, the law is often the only and most effective remedy to injustice, but it is also the perpetrator of the very oppression it can relieve. Lawyers are under professional obligations to uphold trust in the profession and to promote diversity, but we are also under a moral duty to do what is right. We need to be proud in our support of the LGBTQ+ community when we are currently seeing the biggest backslide in a generation.
Law firms hold immense economic, political and social power, but they are too cautious about using it, and in doing so, they let us all down. It starts with investing in their own people, by supporting DEI and people networks, by proactively recruiting LGBTQ+ and other marginalised people, and by creating a culture of celebrating people, not just including them.
But it continues with making the world a better place, rather than just the office: by showing up to Pride, by engaging with clients on LGBTQ+ issues outside of legal advice, and by developing robust and effective pro bono practices supporting the LGBTQ+ community, and by being unashamed of doing what is right. Unless we can meet this moment, we will forever look back on it with shame. That’s not an option I am willing to live with.
What is the single biggest challenge still facing the LGBTQ+ community in City law? How can it be addressed?
The biggest problem is the people that support the LGBTQ+ community, but aren’t willing to say it. The ones that complain they don’t care what bathrooms people use, but don’t realise that the problem is others do.
Because of a vocal and aggressive minority, we are seeing a real and dangerous erosion in our rights because the majority aren’t showing up for what they believe in.
It can be addressed very simply: by doing something. It takes seconds to google ways to support trans people. It takes seconds to introduce yourself with your pronouns. But it also takes real time, real investment, and real motivation to make a real change. If you’re not willing to do that, that’s your choice, but you are no ally. To those that are willing, we need you more than ever.
For more, see ‘We’re all nervous right now’ – how a subdued Pride month got caught in the DEI backlash
More Pride Perspectives:
Patrick McCann: ‘We need more queer managing partners’
Emma Woolcott: ‘We need a plurality of perspectives around the table when decisions are made’
