The experience of standing inside a courtroom with something deeply personal at stake made me understand advocacy before I studied it formally.

Prior to enrolling on the Bar training course, I already knew the language of litigation, such as non-molestation orders, child arrangements orders, safeguarding assessments, enforcement applications and the procedural rhythm of family proceedings. Waiting months and years for hearings and resolution was something I experienced firsthand. I realised that legal processes impact every aspect of a person’s life, reaching well beyond the courtroom.

My route to the Bar was far from conventional. My journey was influenced by domestic abuse, disability, family litigation, homelessness and public service. Ultimately, I was driven by a strong desire to participate in the justice system, not just as a survivor, but as someone committed to helping improve it.

I married at 18 in a culture where early marriage was the norm, and departure was neither simple nor accepted. Over time, the marriage turned severely abusive. Leaving that situation meant abandoning nearly everything familiar, including my young child, when the child’s father claimed parental responsibility. What followed was not a single court application but a seven-year journey through the family justice system.

The proceedings became increasingly complex, involving non-molestation orders, cross-applications, child arrangements orders, enforcement proceedings, guardian involvement,and multiple assessments, including section 7, section 37 and section 47 reports. At one stage, the paternal grandparents also sought parental responsibility.

Court, for years, became more a condition of life and less of an event.

I learned quickly, like many vulnerable litigants, that legal proceedings do not exist in isolation. Employment, housing, finances, health, relationships and identity are affected by family litigation. For those whose lives may already be defined by instability, it demands emotional regulation. I was placed in two women’s refuges throughout this period and later obtained permanent council accommodation after a prolonged wait in 2019.

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in 2016, a long-term health condition associated with prolonged stress and trauma. When navigating legal systems, disability adds another dimension. Court deadlines do not pause for chronic illness. Expectations remain and hearings continue. The reality of engaging with proceedings while managing pain, fatigue, uncertainty and trauma exposed something that I continue to reflect upon today. Legal systems often assume levels of resilience and capacity that vulnerable individuals may not realistically possess.

In 2020, while complying with a child arrangements order, I was assaulted by my former husband and four members of his family. The incident resulted in charges involving section 18, grievous bodily harm. My experience of justice, by that stage, extended across both family and criminal processes. I had experienced first-hand the intersection between safeguarding concerns, procedural requirements and personal safety.

One issue that particularly stayed with me was confidentiality. Years later, while undertaking the Bar practice course (BPC), my confidential address was inadvertently disclosed to my former husband through a school report, forcing relocation mid-course. This was an unintentional oversight, but the impact was significant. It reinforced how safeguarding failures are not always dramatic; sometimes they arise through routine processes that do not adequately account for ongoing risk.

Alongside these experiences, I served professionally within the Metropolitan Police Service and was awarded a COVID Recognition Coin for service during the pandemic.

Policing gave me valuable insight into the realities of frontline justice. It strengthened my understanding of investigation, public protection and institutional decision-making. But it also made clear to me that policing has limits. Police powers can intervene at critical moments, but they cannot resolve every issue affecting vulnerable individuals once matters move into the wider justice system.

That realisation led me towards the Bar.

In January 2024, I was completing my LLB examinations while simultaneously enrolled on the BPC. The timing was difficult. Alongside disability, relocation and ongoing personal responsibilities, I undertook one of the most demanding periods of legal training. Despite these challenges, I passed all BPC assessments on the first attempt except civil litigation, which I later passed on resit.

Since then, I have secured pupillage following my call to the Bar earlier this year. For me, this milestone represents more than professional progression. It reflects something that I have thought about constantly throughout my journey: access to the profession should not be measured by conventional markers of opportunity.

Access, diversity and inclusion continue to be topics the Bar examines. These conversations matter. Diversity should include those who arrive carrying experiences of abuse, disability, prolonged litigation, caregiving responsibilities and housing insecurity. These experiences rarely appear fully on application forms, yet they shape how advocates understand justice and vulnerable clients.

One of the most meaningful moments in my journey came recently through my appointment as a family magistrate. Today, I sit on the same family bench that determined aspects of my own case years earlier. Returning to the family justice system in a judicial capacity has been a profoundly reflective experience. There were moments during my own proceedings where I believed decisions were made that did not fully appreciate the realities of abuse, safeguarding or vulnerability. Those experiences remained with me. Rather than leaving me entirely disillusioned with the system, they motivated me to become part of it. I wanted to contribute to decision-making with an awareness not only of legal principle but of the human realities that sit behind proceedings. Sitting as a magistrate has reinforced how difficult family decision-making can be. Family courts routinely deal with competing rights, incomplete information and circumstances in which there are rarely perfect outcomes. At the same time, the role has strengthened my belief that justice requires more than procedural correctness alone. It requires listening. It requires awareness of trauma. It requires recognising that litigants may present in ways shaped by stress, fear, disability or exhaustion.

My experiences have allowed me to see the justice system from several perspectives: survivor, litigant, officer, future barrister and now judicial office-holder.

Each role has taught me something different.

As a result, I now understand that lived experience should not be viewed as incompatible with professional objectivity. The approach may deepen empathy and improve communication with vulnerable clients if it is approached thoughtfully. I am not arguing that adversity makes lawyers better. Neither resilience nor its importance should ever be romanticised. But it is important to recognise that difficult personal experiences do not diminish professional capability.

For many years, I encountered the justice system as someone seeking protection within it. Today, I contribute to that same system while preparing to begin pupillage and continue my journey at the Bar. The hardship alone does not make my story exceptional. It is common for people to navigate adversity without being seen. I hope my experience shows that access to justice and access to the profession are connected. The people who have experienced the system most intimately may also have something meaningful to contribute to its future. And perhaps one of the strongest justice systems we can build is one that makes space for both expertise and lived understanding. 

The author was called to the Bar in 2026 and starts pupillage this year.