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Young Law Student Questions Judicial Career: Judiciary Must Examine Gender Gap
In a deeply personal reflection that has resonated across legal circles, an anonymous law student has raised uncomfortable questions about the Indian judiciary’s ability to attract and retain women judges. The student, who was once certain about sitting for the , now expresses profound uncertainty—not about capability, but about the professional life that awaits within the institution. “I wanted to become a judge, now I’m not so sure,” the student writes, framing the doubt not as a rejection of the judiciary but as a legitimate question any young lawyer should be allowed to ask.
The essay, published as a first-person account, does not cite specific statistics or incidents. Yet it taps into a long-standing concern within the legal community: the stark underrepresentation of women in higher judicial posts and the slow pace of change at entry levels. The student’s dilemma is personal, but it mirrors systemic issues that legal scholars and activists have flagged for years. As the student puts it: “If the judiciary genuinely wants more women judges, the answer cannot simply be to tell more women to take the examination. It has to ask what those women see when they look 10, 15 or 20 years into the future.”
The Personal Dilemma
The author begins by recounting an earlier ambition. “I wanted to become a judge” is stated without irony or regret. But exposure to the realities of judicial life—through internships, conversations with sitting judges, or observation of court proceedings—has introduced doubts. The student does not accuse the judiciary of overt hostility. “I am not saying that the judiciary is inherently hostile, or that my uncertainty proves systemic failure,” the essay clarifies. “It is only one person’s uncertainty. But perhaps that is precisely why it is worth talking about. Because institutions are ultimately made up of people making individual choices.”
This framing is deliberate. The student avoids sweeping indictments, instead inviting introspection. The core question is not whether women can pass the examination—the student has not ruled out sitting for it—but whether the institution offers a sustainable career. “I still have not decided whether I will sit for the ,” the student writes. “But I now think that asking whether I can clear the examination is only the first question. I also have to ask whether I can see myself building a professional life there.”
The Institutional Question
The essay’s subtext is a critique of the judiciary’s work culture, career progression, and support systems—or the lack thereof. While the student does not detail specific grievances, the implication is clear: the judiciary may be unwelcoming to women in ways that go beyond explicit discrimination. Factors such as hierarchical rigidity, limited flexibility for family responsibilities, inadequate mentorship, and a dearth of role models are often cited in research on . The student’s uncertainty echoes findings from studies on why women leave the legal profession—or never join certain branches.
The essay challenges the judiciary to look beyond recruitment numbers. “Getting women through the door is important. Giving them a reason to stay is just as important,” the student writes. This distinction between access and is critical. India has seen incremental increases in the number of women appointed as district judges and even as judges in recent years, but and stagnation remain understudied. The student’s reflection suggests that even if entry barriers are lowered, invisible walls within the institution may push women out or discourage them from applying in the first place.
Why Matters
The gender gap in India’s judiciary is well-documented. According to government data, women constitute less than 30% of district judges and only about 11% of judges. In the , the number of women judges has historically been in single digits. The problem is not merely one of representation; it affects judicial decision-making, public confidence, and the legitimacy of the courts. A diverse bench brings varied perspectives, particularly in cases involving , family law, and .
The student’s essay adds a human dimension to these statistics. It shows that the is not just about law school enrollment or examination success—it is about whether the judiciary can offer a fulfilling career over decades. “If a young law student looks at the judiciary and thinks, I want to do this, that is a success,” the student notes. “If another looks at the same institution and thinks, I am not sure I want this life, perhaps the institution should be interested in understanding why.”
What the Judiciary Can Do
The essay does not prescribe solutions, but its implications are clear. First, the judiciary must actively listen to women at various career stages—not just those who have succeeded, but also those who have opted out or hesitated. Anonymous surveys, exit interviews, and focus groups could surface concerns that are rarely aired publicly. Second, structural changes—such as transparent postings, fair workload distribution, anti-harassment mechanisms, and family-friendly policies—could address the unease that the student hints at. Third, mentorship and sponsorship programs could help young women navigate the informal networks that often determine career advancement.
The student’s final words are a challenge to the institution: “I suppose that is the question I am left with. Not whether I am capable of becoming a judge, but whether I can see myself building a life and a career within the institution. That is a question the judiciary cannot answer for me. But it is one it should be willing to hear.”
Conclusion
This reflection arrives at a time when the Indian judiciary is under scrutiny for its lack of diversity, particularly at the highest levels. While the has occasionally taken steps to address gender imbalance—such as the recent appointment of more women as judges—the pace remains glacial. The student’s perspective reminds the legal community that numbers alone are insufficient. The judiciary must create an environment where women not only enter but thrive. Until that happens, the question “Can I see myself there?” will continue to deter talented young lawyers—and the institution will remain poorer for it.
The essay is a quiet but powerful call for introspection. It asks the judiciary to move beyond and engage with the lived experiences of those it seeks to attract. For legal professionals, it serves as a reminder that institutional reform begins with listening to individual voices—even, and perhaps especially, those that express uncertainty.
