Michael Oppenheimer (’06) reflects on the fight for equality and what it means for him, his family and his community.
On November 24, 2014, I stood with residents, activists, and lawyers in front of the police department, in Ferguson, Missouri.
Michael Oppenheimer, in November 2015, with his newly born daughter.
It was moments after a prosecutor announced the grand jury decision not to indict a police officer for killing an unarmed black child. There was a chill in the night air. There was despair, frustration, and anger in the air. And, on that night, there was tear gas in the air. As we drove to a place to rest, I thought about what the path to equality truly means.
The next night, I stood outside the Clayton County Courthouse, in St. Louis—this time with lawyers attempting to gain access to Ferguson residents jailed during the previous night’s show of police authority. The jail staff denied us access—“Only essential personnel,” they said. We reminded the jailers that the people in their custody had the right to confer with their attorneys, a right guaranteed to them by the U.S. and state constitutions and state statutes.
After two hours, we were inside the jail and interviewed nearly 40 people, hearing stories of aggressive, violent policing, each story with its own pain. We contacted loved ones to shed light on the chaos and began to develop strategies.
We did what public defenders do. We pursued justice for each client on a path to equality.
When I ask people what equality means, the response is often an example of inequality. Whether it’s income and wealth disparity, the chasm in pay between men and women, or mass incarceration for certain groups, folks are well versed in what inequality looks like. How then do we translate that knowledge and experience into affirmative conceptions of what equality is, or the recognition of equality when it is present?
For me, a world with equality is a world where my daughter’s life matters. Equality is the time and place where she will experience the world unencumbered by how she looks or whom she loves. Where her classmates, teachers, and police will approach their encounters with genuine hearts and open minds. My equality will be when my daughter has the peace to be heard and the space to be herself.
My purpose in “the work” is to stand with poor people of color who seek justice down the path to their equality. Whether the struggle takes place in Ferguson or the South Bronx or the heart of Baltimore—in courtrooms or community meetings—my commitment is unwavering.
I do not give my clients a voice. Each client I have ever represented has his or her own voice and understanding of his or her equality.
I chose to be a public defender to help my clients shatter the silence of institutions that seek to snatch from them the most precious aspects of their lives. I continue to be a public defender because the criminal justice system remains too quiet and unequal.
CUNY Law has prepared each of us to amplify the voices of those who are often ignored. We travel the path to equality with our clients. We trumpet each client’s cause. Our work, our struggle for equality, is about the dignity of people.
The work that we do might not change the world tomorrow, but it might make a difference for an individual client. Maybe, in turn, that difference will change the world for our children.
Michael Oppenheimer(’06) was an E. Barrett Prettyman Fellow in Georgetown University Law Center’s Criminal Justice Clinic. He worked for seven years with the Bronx Defenders and is now an assistant federal defender in Baltimore’s Third Circuit. Oppenheimer is part of CUNY Law’s Board of Visitors.