NIED #18: Doppelgangers
One of
my least favorite things about law school is seeing people that I know, but not
being able to say hi to them because it’s weird since we have not both formally
acknowledged that we know each other’s first names. Even worse is when someone says hi to me and
I have absolutely no idea who they are, but I want to be polite, so I say hi
back, but don’t say their name, and then worry about whether or not they know
that I don’t know their name. Some might
say this is a trivial matter, but I believe that Doppelgangers present a strong
case for a claim for Negligent Infliction of Emotional Distress.
In the
first place, these Doppelgangers—they owe me no duty to make me feel better
about myself. So the claim fails. However, I do not intend for every NIED
column to present a colorable claim—I merely intend to contribute a voice of
reason into this sea of Sameness.
My
friend dyed my hair blonde last year. A
couple weeks after that, I set up an interview for a judicial internship with a
bankruptcy judge nearby. My counselor
told me that I needed to dye my hair back.
Another counselor indicated that it would not be a good idea to go to
the PILC Fair with the blonde.
I also
started my internship that semester with the blonde, and when I dyed it back,
my supervising attorney thought it had been my natural color. His wife, ironically, told me that she met
Andy Warhol at a party in the early 1980s.
They had both approved of my hair.
While
blonde, I came upon a brilliant realization: I could never dye it back. It would make me stand out. Of course, others might say it would make me
stick out like a sore thumb.
I told
people that I needed to be “diverse” somehow.
I told people that it was some kind of impossible form of discrimination
to judge my intelligence on the basis of my hair color—but of course, hair
color is not immutable. This much is
certain, however: people knew who I was.
I was “that blonde kid” and subject to whatever criticisms or praise
that appellation entailed. I was
immediately identifiable. Then I dyed it
back to brown and I receded back into the ooze of professional appearances and
anonymity.
Many
people at this school (and I would imagine every single other law school) look
exactly the same (but to qualify this statement, let me specify that BLS
students probably do not look like UVM Law students). And it is very annoying for me. How am I supposed to know who you are if you
look like five other people? I might
recognize your voice? What if there is
just that awkward moment of eye contact without any kind of wave or similar
friendly gesture? Then I go into the
library and keep my head down—I do not want to see anyone anymore. Blindness is preferable to any display of
social awkwardness. The blind cannot be
faulted for their condition, but I can be faulted for not making an effort to
know everyone’s name and for not being able to tell them apart from a distance
when, perhaps I am not even wearing my glasses.
It is absurd.
My
advice is contrary to what the Career Services Office will tell you, but I
seriously believe that law school will suck the vitality out of you and turn
you into a sheep if you let it. So, do
not cut your hair. Do not dye it back to
its original color. Keep reading the
Communist Manifesto. Maintain your
pre-law school hobbies to the extent practicable. Read for pleasure. Use your real name on facebook instead of
trying to hide. Keep at your blog.
If you have ideas, share them. If you don’t really care very much about your
individuality, then I guess you won’t be offended the next time I look
away. But if you feel like law school is
preventing you from being the person you want to be, I suggest you go into
court one day. There are always crazy
lawyers with fantastic suits and bizarre piercings and atypical
hairstyles. People might say you
shouldn’t look like that if you want to get hired—but I seriously doubt the
judge will rule against you because of it.
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