"What do you do?"

I spoke on a panel this week at my alma mater, the University of Maine School of Law, about "alternate" uses for a J.D. degree, specifically in the field of policy.  J.D. means Juris Doctor, or, Doctor of Laws - a law degree. 

I graduated from law school in 1997 and have never practiced law.  It was no small thrill to be invited back in the context of being seen as successful in my professional life, when for fifteen years, and as recently as last week, I have been asked, "Are you sure you don't want to be a lawyer?"  Clearly, I am still not meeting some cultural expectations even after all these years.

I went to the panel, which turned out to be a panel of two people including me.  I had spent some days thinking quite seriously about profession and personal identity.  I am a self-employed consultant engaged in various avenues of work including violence prevention, organizational development and capacity building.  That mouthful said, my current largest contract involves writing lesson plans for law enforcement officers-in-training at the Maine Criminal Justice Academy, which doesn't fit neatly in any of those aforementioned categories. 

In the past, I spent eight years working as a trainer and educator at a domestic violence resource center, worked as a researcher looking at gender equity issues relating to girls in the juvenile justice system, staffed the Maine Domestic Abuse Homicide Review Panel out of the Attorney General's Office, was a Crime Analyst and Reserve Officer at the Augusta Police Department, worked on a team of professional writers to create scripts for a proposed children's television series in the style of Broadway for kids, and on it has gone.  Who does that make me?  I have felt very connected to, and passionate about, all of these jobs.  I'm pretty driven.  I have worked at many of them as if my life depended on them, as if I was them.
 
I remember when I was in my early twenties and met a man who was perhaps fifteen to twenty years older than me.  We'll call him Scott because that was in fact his name, and when we started talking I asked him "What do you do?"  He answered, "What I do for money is work at the post office.  I'm really an artist, a painter."  And I'll admit after all these years, I had to struggle for a moment just now to recall that his money job was at the post office.  I saw his paintings, and own two of them, and that is how I remember him. 

Another incident about profession and self-identity that stands out in my mind is a day I was in my office at the domestic violence resource center and a co-worker came in and exclaimed, "You have a doctorate degree, we should be calling you Dr. Faragher!"  I laughed and said thanks but no thanks.  While I am proud of and grateful for my education, I have never led with it.  My own humble approach to having a J.D. is not something I wanted to recommend to current law students over other approaches, but I did encourage them to think about how they view their law degree.  Is it a ticket?  To wealth, credibility, security?  Is it a death sentence?  Does it create obligations due to student loans or the expectations of others?  Is it a tool?

I see my J.D. now, and really all of my jobs since graduating college and law school, as things I have done, not who I am professionally.  While I certainly wore the mantle of "domestic violence lady" for some years, and continue to feel passionate about creating culture change regarding gender violence, this work has not somehow marked me for life.  Speaking to a group of questioning law students on Tuesday reminded me that the longer I retain my "free radical" status, even in relation to a high-powered education, or work I love, the more likely I am to do my best work and to receive the next exciting opportunities I may desperately want or need.  Working at interesting jobs is only ever a part of weaving an interesting life.