When Rosalyn Sia Baker-Barnes walked into a courtroom one morning for the first day of trial, the judge glanced across the room and said they’d begin when the attorney arrived.
“OK, well, we’ll get started when the lead counsel gets here,” the judge said.
Baker-Barnes paused, steadied herself, and corrected him:
“I am the lead counsel, Your Honor. It’s me.”
Even now, as the first Black woman to lead the Florida Bar in its 77-year history, she still encounters people who assume she isn’t in charge. Moments like these, she said, are sharp reminders of how deeply bias runs in a profession that often questions the legitimacy of Black women attorneys.
An uphill battle
That experience is far from isolated. A 2023 survey by the Women Lawyers Division of the National Bar Association found that 70% of Black women attorneys have experienced or witnessed discrimination at work. Nearly half said they feel the added burden of educating colleagues about diversity and equity simply because they’re Black.
Representation remains stark: Black women make up just 4.1% of all U.S. lawyers. The legal profession has long been an exclusive space, guarded by systemic barriers that made access difficult for women of color. Still, Black women fought for their place.
For attorney Ashley V. Gantt, also a Florida state representative and the 2025-2026 president of the Gwen S. Cherry Black Women Lawyers’ Association (GSCBWLA), the dismissals came early.
As a public defender, she recalled an attorney asking if she was the courtroom clerk.
“I was sitting at the PD’s table with the docket in front of me that literally said ‘PD,’ and he still assumed I wasn’t the lawyer.”
Across the board, she said, women lawyers are mistaken for court reporters or staff — particularly Black women, who have even been assumed to be the defendant in criminal cases.
Baker-Barnes echoed that point.
“I have never had a Black woman lawyer as opposing counsel at trial in my entire career. I can count on one hand the times I’ve had a Black woman as opposing counsel, in a case, maybe two, maybe three,” said Baker-Barnes, who has practiced for more than 20 years as a board-certified civil trial lawyer in personal injury, medical negligence and product liability.
Those numbers aren’t just statistics; they take a toll. She cited the 2020 American Bar Association (ABA) study "Left Out and Left Behind,“ which documented how isolation and bias erode mental health and drive women of color out of the profession.
“People believe once you’ve been doing this for a long time, the bias stops. It doesn’t,” Baker-Barnes said.
Overpreparing, overperforming
Loreal A. Arscott, a Miami native and past president of both the Wilkie D. Ferguson, Jr. Bar Association and GSCBWLA, who also runs her own law firm, said the pressure starts in school.
She recalls her time in the College of Law when classmates insinuated that Black students were admitted only because of affirmative action.
“In my law school class, there were only 11 Black students out of 200 or 300,” she said. “I was on the dean’s list every semester in undergrad. I graduated with honors. For someone to say we were only there because of affirmative action completely negates our academic credibility.”
She said law schools often train Black women to overperform, outworking peers and meticulously preparing for higher standards of excellence.
“We always have to be more prepared, well-informed, not just in your legal argument, but in your physical presentation,” she said. “Do you go to an interview with your natural curly hair or do you get it straightened just so you can get the job? Does any other group have to take those things into consideration?”
Baker-Barnes admitted that, for years, she didn’t fully process what she was experiencing.
“I was focused on just, ‘I have to do a good job. I have to be the best. I have to win,’” she said. “Over time, those types of experiences, whether it's isolation, whether it's bias, or not getting the same opportunities as others even though you're doing the work, those things chip away at you.”
Emotional load
Beyond bias, the work itself exacts an emotional toll.
“What people don’t usually tell you is that as a lawyer, you’re always solving problems. That can be overwhelming because you just get burned out easily,” Gantt said.
Baker-Barnes handles catastrophic injury and medical malpractice cases, living with clients through their worst moments. She recalled a breast cancer misdiagnosis case involving a mother of six.
“I lived through this case. I lived through her going through chemotherapy and surgeries, sitting in a room with her daughters in tears, devastated because their mother was dying,” she said.
“Taking on that burden case after case, year after year, can and will affect your mental health.”
Arscott shared a similar sentiment.
“Our profession is so high-stress that you don’t even realize it because it becomes your new normal. I try to focus on self-care, exercise, meditation, yoga, and also making my children my priority. My family has been my best support team.”
Networks of support
According to the ABA, many women leave the field due to stereotypes and barriers to advancement. For those who stay, mentors and networks are essential.
For Baker-Barnes, the ABA report findings were a wake-up call. She co-founded the Palm Beach County Sheree Davis Cunningham Black Women Lawyers Association to connect younger lawyers with trailblazers, college presidents, the first Black women judges, and in-house counsel leaders.
“Members who aspire to those roles have someone they can talk to, someone who knows what it takes and is willing to help,” she said. “Our experience isn’t perfect. It's a reflection of imperfections of our society, but that is why we are here to try in our own way to make it a little bit better in the way that we can.”
In Miami, networks like GSCBWLA, named after Gwendolyn Sawyer Cherry, the first Black woman to practice law in Dade County, remain vital. Founded in 1985, it represents more than 350 students, lawyers and judges statewide, providing mentorship, legal clinics and advocacy.
“Black women lawyers are dynamic forces to be reckoned with but are always undervalued,” said Arscott, who served as president from 2015 to 2017. “My goal [as president] was to show Black women lawyers that they have a network of sister lawyers here to support and nurture them.
During her term, she established the Judicial Diversity Coalition to advocate for the appointment of more Black women judges to the Miami-Dade Circuit Court benches, of which there were none at that time.
As of 2025, there are two Black women circuit judges in the Eleventh Judicial Circuit of Florida, Tanya Brinkley and Michelle Delancy; two general magistrates, and three county judges — progress, though “the numbers are still not where they should be,” Arscott said.
Janeen Lofton, the 2024-2025 president, launched a program connecting judges and lawyers with students in law programs at majority-Black high schools.
“What I realized is those students — they’re studying law, but they have never seen a lawyer. They’ve never seen a judge,” Lofton says. “And here it is, they’re giving up before they graduate because they feel like it’s a waste of their time.”
The program also takes students to real courtrooms, where they observe proceedings and meet judges.
For Gantt, now stepping into the presidency, the priority is to strengthen bonds with law students and engage the community. Gantt herself started as a law student volunteering at the association with Arscott’s mentorship.
“I'm very committed to rebuilding and strengthening that bond between the association and law students to mentor the next generation of Black women lawyers,” Gantt said.
Carrying the legacy
Black women in law today still stand on the shoulders of pioneers who integrated bar associations and demanded access to courtrooms that once excluded them.
“You reflect on the sacrifices others made for you to have this opportunity, and it’s like, you better carry this weight,” Baker-Barnes said.
The swearing-in of Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson in the U.S Supreme Court marked a collective victory, proof that progress is possible. Despite stereotypes, overwork and bias, Black women lawyers succeed and lift others as they rise.
“You absolutely have to earn your seat at the table. But once you have that seat, you don’t just sit there and be quiet. You pull up chairs for others,” Baker-Barnes said.
The journey is challenging, but commitment remains steadfast.
“People constantly underestimate Black women, but that is our secret weapon. We allow people to underestimate us, and then we prove them wrong,” Arscott said.
This story is the third in The Miami Times’ series, Justice, Interrupted, exploring how local Black lawyers are navigating the 2025 legal landscape.
This story was produced by The Miami Times, one of the oldest Black-owned newspapers in the country, as part of a content sharing partnership with the WLRN newsroom. Read more at miamitimesonline.com.
