This weekend I was planning on going to Kripalu, up the street, where the David Whyte was conducting a retreat. One of my favorite poets, his topic was “Compass Points: Setting Direction for a Future Life” (something I could use), but to me, his best work is “The House of Belonging.” When I realized this weekend corresponded with the She Roars conference, I didn’t immediately change my mind. I shared my debate with G: a workshop with one of my top two living poets or “perhaps the opportunity of a lifetime, to be in the same space as two of the three female Supreme Court justices.”

She did not miss a beat. “Go to Princeton.”

When I was a little girl, I remember visiting my dad’s wood paneled law office, hazy with cigarette smoke, a unit in the corner whirring ineffectually to remove said smoke, his huge partners’ desk, and several framed documents hanging on the wall. The one that stood out—with the most ornate calligraphy—indicated his admission to the Bar of the Supreme Court of the United States. Issued long before I was born, this sparked my early fascination in the highest court in the land, and henceforth I associated my dad with the court and (for other reasons, naturally) with his best friend, John Wayne. I grew up wanting nothing more than to make Dad as proud of me as I was of him. I grew up wanting to be just like him.

On Friday afternoon, as we filed into our seats about ten rows from the dais in the middle of Jadwin Gym, I found myself thinking about my parents’ sacrifices to send me to Princeton and the enduring gift of that experience. The simple fact that we share an alma mater with Justices Elena Kagan ‘81 and Sonia Sotomayor ’76 made it possible for over three thousand women of all ages to hear their reflections on life and career. Admission was free.

This She Roars conference was held to celebrate fifty years of coeducation. Both justices matriculated soon after that landmark and had classes in which they were the only women. Justice Sotomayor recalled one older professor who deliberately would stop in the middle of his age-old lectures—at the point where he previously had included an off-color joke—look at her, causing the rest of the boys to look at her, and then just as abruptly, he would move on. Now, as the justices and moderator sat in black wood Captain’s chairs on a low platform, they faced a vast expanse of alumnae and undergrads embodying a rather awesome illustration of how far our university has come.

I wish now that I had started taking notes immediately and with greater detail. This is no transcript (although it is longer than my usual posts), nor I fear, will it capture the rapt attention of the audience or the ease of the conversation. There seemed to be not one moment of falsehood, and I believe no one in the stadium wanted it to end. We wanted more, under the current circumstances, more than they could ever say.

The moderator, classmate Heather Gerken ’91, dean of Yale Law School, did an outstanding job diving directly into insightful questions geared toward students of all ages and alumnae, largely all dressed in orange and black, seated all the way up to the exposed domed rafters of the gym.

In general, most of us tend to go to great lengths to wear our school colors. Walking on stage, my tiger eye noted that Dean Gerken was dressed in black and white with green jewelry. Justice Kagan was classic in a black pantsuit with a grey jacket, slightly-smaller-than-Barbara-Bush-like pearls, black pumps and a fit bit on her left wrist. Justice Sotomayor was the only one in orange and black, albeit discretely, wearing a belted black dress and black tights with a soft orange silk scarf tucked around her neck.

The warmth between the two women was palpable. Occasionally, Sotomayor would touch Kagan’s forearm amiably when making a point. Kagan’s face was open and animated—seemingly her version of such warmth—as she listened and took in her colleague’s replies.

An example: Kagan smiled broadly and raised an eyebrow when Sotomayor said she is living her dream, that she was born for the law—each professional step being a logical, ascending progression from the DA’s office to private practice to US District Court judge to US Second Circuit Court of Appeals to SCOTUS in 2009. I interpreted Kagan’s raised eyebrow not as any doubt about Sotomayor’s reply, but as a reflection on herself. Kagan described her peripatetic career moves from teaching law at University of Chicago and then Harvard Law, to serving as Associate Counsel to the President and then as Deputy Assistant to the President for Domestic Policy under Clinton, to dean of Harvard Law School, and following that, Solicitor General under Obama. Never staying anywhere for longer than six years until her appointment in 2010, she shared that serendipity played a significant role in her story, and she encouraged us to have the “ability to change directions at a moment’s notice…be open to opportunities… and be aware that you should grab them.”

Their introductions provided some comparisons: both from New York although entirely different settings, both wrote exceptionally long undergraduate theses, both love baseball but different teams. Later, both admitted they learned how to write properly at Princeton and had significant mentors, Kagan’s being Sean Wilentz who is still an active professor and was seated in the front row.

In answering questions, Sotomayor often replied by rebuilding the question to make a point of her own. For instance, when Gerken asked about their mentors, Kagan answered first. Sotomayor elected to flip the question and make it about finding mentors or mentees, a far more practical tool for the audience.

On this question of mentors, Sotomayor said, one must seek out a mentor. “Demonstrate your ambition,” she encouraged. And to those in the audience who were more seasoned, she said, “the student comes to you.” She shared her experience, honed and refined at Princeton: when she received criticism, “my next paper had to fix that problem.” It was clear that she never needed to be told twice; it was a point of pride. Later she described an early case she tried as assistant DA in which her logic was impeccable, but the jury did not convict. Seeking advice, the feedback she received was, sure, your logic was perfect, but you didn’t make them feel anything. Juries, she was told, don’t like to convict. They don’t want to feel guilty. Henceforth as an attorney, she always made a point to include a statement justifying conviction along with the necessary logic.

Some further advice from Sotomayor:

“Find people you admire who are doing things you don’t know how to do.”
“Ask to be taught things you’re not sure you can do.”
“Try doing things you know nothing about.”
“There are very few fatal mistakes in life.”
“Learning is a lifelong.”
“It’s never too late to retool.” (She cited being inspired by her mother who went back to school in her late 40s)
“Stop worrying so much.”
“There is no avenue that doesn’t give you an opportunity to do good work.”
“Pick yourself up [if you fall down].”
“Do things that might otherwise scare you.”

Yes, it was a sea of women who were receiving these words, but the audience was sparsely salted with a few men. Carrying my father so closely to my heart, I was touched when Sotomayor added: “There are always men of good will.”

As the conversation expanded, we began to receive a greater sense of her words and the notion that “collegiality should be maintained and promoted”—this being the key to the effective functioning of the judicial branch.

Kagan argued that such “rituals of respect” are grounded in self-interest on the court, because at any given time there may be an issue that comes up which matters more to certain justices, and if they have not built good relations, they will have less chance of bringing the others along. She went on to explain, “There are just the nine of us… If you hold grudges… you have little chance of influence in the future.” Kagan pointed out that  just recently Sotomayor and Justice Gorsuch [who sits in the seat farthest to the left, next to Sotomayor] had found common ground around fourth amendment issues. She added that historically there have been examples of justices who would not speak to one another, creating all kinds of difficulty. (Sotomayor jumped in to suggest reading Scorpions by Noah Feldman if we wanted to learn more.) Much is made of the cases that are decided along seemingly partisan lines, but in about fifty percent of all cases there is agreement, often unanimous.

Kagan said, “Everyone is operating in good faith. [Chief Justice] Roberts sets a good tone.” The nine justices regularly have lunch together—“an institutional arrangement”—with rules including no talk about work or cases. They learn about each other’s lives and stories, and “we tell bad jokes.” Likely this is a key ingredient to their aforementioned congeniality. Kagan laughed, “Annoyances can add up. The great thing is that we get to escape each other in the summers.” We learned that both justices like to play poker. The late Justice Scalia was infamous for his friendship with Justice Ginsburg and for his poker parties. Sotomayor shared that he had invited her to play, but she declined. Kagan showed visible surprise. She and Scalia also were friends, but she exclaimed, “He never invited me!”

Getting as close as they did to the current controversy surrounding the Kavanaugh hearings, Kagan commented, “This is a really divided time, and part of the court’s strength and legitimacy depends on people not seeing the court in the way that they see the rest of the governing structures of this country.” The court must be “above the fray.” It’s important, she continued, to “guard its reputation of being fair, impartial, neutral, and of not being simply an extension of the terribly polarized political process and environment that we live in.” She conceded this is a challenge. “We don’t have an army. We don’t have any money. The only way we get people to do what we say they should do is because people respect us and respect our fairness.” Speaking of her colleagues, “All of us need to realize how precious the court’s legitimacy is… Every single one of us has an obligation to think about what it is that provides the court with its legitimacy and to think about how we can be not so politically divided as some of the other political institutions in the nation.” [Kavanaugh will sit on the far right, next to Kagan.]

Sotomayor went into some detail about how legal interpretation has become politicized thereby adding a political undertone to the court’s decision making where previously it may not have existed, “Originalists have become the choice of one party and non-originalists the choice of another group.” But again, she tilted the question and answered afresh. To maintain respect with her colleagues, she said, “I try to find the good in everybody. It’s easier to get along, even when I disagree vehemently… Clarence Thomas knows every employee in our building. He is exceedingly caring. He knows about illnesses, family issues, and children. His is always the first call or the first flowers [but] we hardly have ever voted together on anything.” She concluded, “by approaching others in that way, I have more space to engage and more willingness to compromise.”

They agreed that the master of this was Justice Kennedy. He always saw the best in others and in doing so was able to find middle ground. Similarly, former Justice O’Connor’s voting was not easily predicted. Kagan said, “It’s not so clear going forward… that sort of middle position… whether we will have that.”

Gerken remarked on how both justices tended to write dissents that are easy to read. She asked them how they think about the way they write their options, and when, if ever, they use emotion. Sotomayor said she uses emotion when she wants to “convince the reader of the moral justice of [her] opinion,” and “explain in a way that people can feel is critical.” However, she said she does not overplay its use.

Kagan made the powerful point that some dissents are “speaking to the next generation. Then you’ve got to up your rhetoric a little bit.” She said that if the decision is a “stand-in for bigger issues,” this should be called out directly. Sotomayor agreed, “in these cases, we need to avoid ruling in such expansive ways to avoid foreclosing (on future decisions).”

But does Kagan appeal to emotion or feeling the way that Sotomayor does? From the one who coined the oft-reprinted phrase, “weaponization of the first amendment,” Kagan smiled and answered, “Feel? Well, I want them to feel that they have gotten it SO WRONG.”

When asked about whether they experience gender bias when wearing their robes, Kagan answered that there is some suggestion in social science research that they get interrupted more, but she doesn’t feel it. She said that the junior justices tend to defer to the senior ones, but “we all like to talk.” Sotomayor disagreed. She feels the bias, but “we just don’t care.” She said she believes there is not a woman in America who has not felt the effect of gender in the workplace. Both agreed that none of the women on the court are “shrinking violets,” although Ginsburg is naturally more soft-spoken, and she often argues that her words get repeated and espoused by the men without acknowledgement. Kagan described their placement with Sotomayor to the left, herself to the right and Ginsburg in the middle [between Chief Justice Roberts and Justice Alito—only Thomas is flanked by men]. She concluded, “Our votes are all equal.”

Toward the end of the conversation, they were asked if they have given anything up to hold their positions on the Supreme Court. Sotomayor’s response was the most telling (Kagan pointed out that her colleague is better known publicly), “I have had to give up quite a bit of public life and be more guarded in private life,” even with what she says to friends.

Who would they want to be if they were not in this role? (Assuming no training required.) Sotomayor hesitated, reiterating that she genuinely loves what she does, but then she said she would be Rita Moreno or a salsa dancer. Kagan answered fast, “Serena Williams.”

Circling back to Princeton and the role it played in their lives, Kagan said that beyond her education, she gained her dearest friends. Sotomayor answered that Princeton is where she became herself. In the few concluding comments, both justices said thank you for the opportunity to be there, and Gerken—ever eloquent herself—replied perfectly for all of us, “the debt is entirely ours.”

We were asked to stay in our seats until they left the building.

A sense of intimacy lingered in the gym long after they departed. It felt like we actually got to know two very private public servants, and we were all so fortunate to be there, coincidentally on such a notable day in the court’s history.

I wished more than I have in a long time that I could call my dad and tell him all about it. In November it will be twenty-five years since he was not on the other end of the telephone, but I can still conjure the feeling of anticipation when I would dial home, hoping he would answer. I would have loved to get his guidance on countless things. Sometimes I think my life wouldn’t have gotten so topsy-turvy if he had stayed a bit longer, helping me to remain true to myself and empowered in my own journey.

While his pride in me was currency I used when my own drive grew weak, the funny thing was that he never demanded anything. He just wanted me to be happy. I realize now what an extremely tall order that is, but then I think about how I feel being on campus, how I feel in New York—even how I felt with our dog in the Route 1 motel room, late Friday night when it was all over—and how I felt chatting with friends. If that isn’t happiness, I don’t know what is.

In this vein, I tried for perhaps the millionth time to contact the “me” who was a student. To imagine myself when I arrived as we all had imagined two incoming students named Elena and Sonia. And then I tried to imagine myself upon graduation. If they became themselves, perhaps I did, too. And if I did, who was I then? How did I lose myself? (or did I?) Do we all come out and launch in a perfect trajectory like they seemed to do? Or is each journey different? Or is their trajectory only fluid and seamless in hindsight?

In my happiest moments lately, I have said that I remind myself of who I was when I was in college. I have contact with the joy, the freedom, the ability to express myself, the sharpened pencil. But to these I have added insight wrought from unpacking pain, loving and losing, living a purpose-filled life and then having those purposes called into question.

As a fresh graduate, I was filled with ideals. I wanted to live meaningfully, to love deeply, to excavate truth in the darkest corners even at the expense of my loved ones’ capacity for understanding. I wanted to avoid “the bullshit.” I wanted to correct mistakes from previous generations. I believed it was all possible. I believed goodness and justice would prevail no matter what I did. I believed I would land on my feet. These were not my father or mother’s dreams for me; these were not traditional professional goals either. They belonged more to a poet or philosopher than the realist that I really am, but I can see today that they were indeed my truest intentions.

When She Roars was over, I realized, somewhat to my surprise, that maybe I have met some of them. That is where I pointed my compass, perhaps unconsciously, and that is what I’ve been doing, even though the path has not been clear. Maybe, just maybe, I have started to make my way back home.

Every time I turn onto Washington Road off of Route 1, or come down 206 toward Nassau Street, I get a rush of delight. This is a place where I can touch the “me” I once was and will always be. This is a place where I accomplished something tangible, and in departing, I set my heading on the excruciatingly slow excavation of something utterly intangible: defining the reason why I’m here. This is my house of belonging. This is where, I, too, began.

This is the bright home
In which we live,
This is where we ask
Our friends to come,
This is where we want
To love all the things
It has taken us so long
To learn to love.

This is the temple
Of our adult beingness
And we belong

To that beingness
As we belong to our lives.

There is no house
Like the house of belonging.

by David Whyte

*All of these quotes are in the spirit of what was said and may not be exact.