Educating the Federal Judge

So the story goes like this; when R. was about 6 1/2 months old, and I was back at work (but pumping milk 3 times a day at work so she would have that in her bottle), I was summoned for Jury Duty at the Federal Court in San Francisco.

It was for a racial discrimination suit that had been brought against the utility giant PG & E. I didn't try to get out of serving. However, just as I was realizing that I had pretty much been selected for the jury, I asked to have a word with the Clerk of the Court. The Clerk was a smartly dressed petite woman who obviously knew her stuff and had the respect of everyone in the room, including the judge (who was imposing in his own right). I mentioned to the clerk that I did have this, uh, situation, where I was expressing milk for my baby. And I asked how often breaks might happen, and whether there was a fridge where I could store the, uh, expressed milk.

So she went back to this U.S. District Court Judge and spoke to him at great length in hushed tones. There were whispers back and forth, and then the judge called the attorneys to him, and he requested that I join this little sidebar party they were having.

Please note that I was not feeling heroic at this moment. I was in a grand old courtroom with rows of prospective jurors staring at me, and the judge and lawyers and clerk in a serious legal-person huddle around me. I was feeling decidedly embarrassed. But here's what happened. The judge, a black gentleman who was probably closer to 70 than 60, asked that I explain to him just what my concerns were. So I did. It took some time, because he had never (I am not making this up) heard of such a thing as pumping breastmilk and saving it to give to the baby later. It was, apparently, outside of his realm of experience.

Once he did understand, however, he decided that there was no reason I couldn't serve on the jury. He said he would just make sure we had frequent enough (and long enough) breaks for me to do what I needed to do.

And that's how it played out. On any given day, after an hour or two of testimony, His Honor would say something like, "And I believe we will adjourn...?" with a careful look in my direction. My job would be to slyly signal with a raised eyebrow or slight nod or shake my head (depending on how I was holding up) and he would then finish his sentence with either, "...now for a half hour" or, "..in an hour and a half," etc.

I had educated a Federal Judge regarding the realities of being a working woman in today's world who is, at the same time, trying to do right by her baby. In retrospect, I was pretty proud of myself, and that took a little of the edge off of the embarrassment.

The trial lasted more than two weeks. I think we would have ruled in favor of the corporation (the man's case was weak, and every witness for him damned him further), but then, at the beginning of the third week, the corporation settled.

Add to the length of this jury service the distance (40 miles from my home), and the fact that the trial - at the SF Federal Building - started the day before the Oklahoma City bombing. You can imagine the shift in security from the first day to the second.

It was a tense time for all sorts of reasons. But I survived it, and I feel like I personally paved the way in that particular judge's court for any other breastfeeding moms silly enough to report for service instead of opting out as I'm sure (now) I could have done. Live and learn.