shortlisted, adj. qualified for a position but not selected from a list that creates the appearance of diversity but preserves the status quo
As the New York Times reported in 1971, Mildred Lillie fortunately had no children. The article marveled at how she maintained “a bathing beauty figure” in her fifties.1 Lillie was not, however, featured in the news as a swimsuit model.
Instead, she was shortlisted. President Richard Nixon had included her among six potential nominees on his list for the United States Supreme Court. At the time, Lillie had served as a judge on California courts for more than twenty years. Her resume was as competitive if not more so than others on Nixon’s list. Lillie could have been the nation’s first female justice, but she was not chosen. Instead, Nixon claimed to care about diversity but preserved an all-male Court.
This book exposes the potential harms of being shortlisted and offers inspiration for women to chart a path from shortlisted to selected in any career. Stories of women shortlisted for the Supreme Court illuminate how this can be accomplished—their early successes in a world hostile to women offer excellent guidance for navigating the inequalities that endure in the #MeToo world. We share their stories and their collective strategies for moving from shortlisted to selected in the pages that follow.
But first, back to the “bathing beauty,” the Honorable Mildred Lillie. The Times article provoked outrage on the opinion page even in that era. As one reader observed:
To the Editor:
Your description of the “qualifications” of Judge Mildred Loree Lillie (biographical sketches of Supreme Court nominees Oct. 14) illustrates perfectly the absurd sexist prejudices to which all women are persistently subjected. Why did you choose to objectify this woman and diminish her accomplishments by including such a totally irrelevant and subjective item? You implied that Judge Lillie’s body was just as significant as any single professional attribute she possesses. There was no discussion of the health—much less the physique—of any of the other possible nominees. Perhaps you could rectify this inequality by printing a discussion of the extent to which Senator Byrd has retained his schoolboy figure or the manner in which Herschel Friday fills his swimsuit.2
—Barbara B. Martin, “Sketch of Judge Lillie,” New York Times, October 23, 1971
The image of Lillie in swimwear reflects the sexism of that era and resonates even today as consistent with society’s ongoing obsession about the female body. The prevailing sentiment during Lillie’s time placed men at work and women at home, with minority women often cooking and cleaning for others. Women were largely excluded from the professional class. As articulated by Justice Bradley, concurring in the Supreme Court’s decision to deny Myra Bradwell admittance to the Illinois Bar in 1873: “[T]he civil law, as well as nature herself, has always recognized a wide difference in the respective spheres and destinies of man and woman. Man is, or should be, woman’s protector and defender. The natural and proper timidity and delicacy which belongs to the female sex evidently unfits it for many of the occupations of civil life. The constitution of the family organization, which is founded in the divine ordinance, as well as in the nature of things, indicates the domestic sphere as that which properly belongs to the domain and functions of womanhood.”3 Even as the United States neared its bicentennial, a woman certainly had never occupied a position on the Supreme Court. In fact, women were not supposed to pursue the law at all.
The simple fact that President Nixon shortlisted Lillie for the Court pushed back against gender norms that dominated the era and still persist. His shortlisting of Lillie is an early example of the very idea this book explores—being sufficiently qualified but not ultimately selected from a list that creates the appearance of valuing diversity but preserves the status quo. Nixon faced immense political pressure to place a woman on the Court but personally believed women belonged only in the home—he did not think women should even be allowed to vote!4 Shortlisting a woman allowed Nixon to pacify those demanding equal representation on the Court while simultaneously maintaining it as a man’s world. But Nixon was not the first president to shortlist a woman and would not be the last.
Before Sandra Day O’Connor secured her legacy as the first woman nominated and confirmed to the Court in 1981, a handful of presidents formally shortlisted at least nine others for that role. Shortlisted is a project of first impression. We are the first to identify and explore the stories of these women in light of their shared experience of being shortlisted. Until now, their individual and collective stories have largely gone untold.
In early 2020, three women sat on the United States Supreme Court. Justice O’Connor retired in 2006. Only four of the 114 justices have been women, a mere 0.035 percent. No president has nominated a woman to the position of chief justice. This glaring lack of gender parity on the Court is reflective of leadership positions across all sectors of the legal profession and the workplace as a whole. Women enter law school and most entry-level legal positions in numbers roughly equal to men. For nearly two decades, around fifty percent of all law graduates have been women, and that number increases every year. Yet they do not advance into the upper echelons of the profession in similar numbers.5
Numerous studies document the lack of women lawyers in positions of power and the results have remained relatively static over the years. The data cited here captures the state of women in the legal profession in the years ranging from 2018 to 2019. According to the National Association of Women Lawyers annual survey, twenty-two percent of managing partners and twenty percent of equity partners in the nation’s largest law firms are women.6 Only three percent of equity partners are women of color.7 Women represent less than twenty-six percent of female general counsels in the Fortune 500,8 make up almost thirty-two percent of law school deans,9 and account for thirty-two percent of tenured law school professors.10 Only thirty-eight percent of law review editors-in-chief at the top fifty U.S. law schools are women.11 In 2019, women held just over twenty-three percent of statewide elective executive offices,12 down from a peak during 1999–2001.13 Nationally, as of 2018, the percentage of women in Congress was twenty-three percent in the Senate and twenty percent in the House.14 In the same time frame, only thirty-six percent of the judges serving on state supreme courts or their equivalent were women.15 Just a handful of states have a majority of women on their highest court, and many have only one.16 Only twenty-three percent of lawyers who argue cases before the Supreme Court are women.17 The situation deteriorates even more when factoring in race, ethnicity, and sexual orientation.18
Contemporary discourse on gender and the Supreme Court in disciplines like gender studies, law, media, and political science (including our own previous research, described in the preface) has mostly focused on the stories of the women who are selected, not shortlisted.19 Reporters, commentators, and scholars frequently retell Justice O’Connor’s story as the first woman to serve on the Court, followed by a discussion of the three successful female nominees who followed in the wake of her legacy. The year 1981 is remembered as a pivotal and celebrated year as President Ronald Reagan made history by nominating the first woman to the Court. Over the course of the next thirty years, four more women would be nominated, three successfully confirmed. Ruth Bader Ginsburg was nominated and appointed to the Court in 1993, followed by Sonia Sotomayor in 2009 and Elena Kagan in 2010. Harriet Miers was nominated but withdrew from consideration in 2005.
Coverage of the women nominated and confirmed to the Court is important, but here we expand the narrative to include the untold stories stumbled upon in our media study, the stories of those shortlisted. It is valuable, as a preliminary matter, to tell their stories as part of the larger historical record of women’s entry into the legal profession. But beyond that, their stories also expose barriers that endure whenever a candidate is shortlisted but not selected. Their collective history offers insights for transcending modern shortlists. Our work builds upon earlier scholarly efforts that developed the theory of the “leaking pipeline,”20 in other words, the idea that women enter the profession in numbers equal to men but do not advance into leadership positions at the same rate, if at all. One way the pipeline “leaks” is via shortlisting, with qualified women considered in the mix of candidates but not selected.
Shortlists help to identify and explain latent discrimination and bias both within and outside of the judiciary. Many attempts to achieve diversity are effectively nothing more than window-dressing intended to create the appearance that diversity is valued. Take the so-called “Rooney Rule,” named for former president and owner of the Pittsburg Steelers Dan Rooney, which is a policy adopted by the National Football League requiring that at least one ethnic minority be interviewed when hiring for head coaching and senior leadership positions. Some herald the rule as a success because it has increased the number of minorities who interview for these positions, arguing that even if a minority candidate is not selected, there is benefit in at least considering them. Aspirational policies like these, however, have done little to change the demographics of who is actually hired.
Some companies have experimented with similar policies. In 2017, the Diversity Lab launched the Mansfield Rule for law firms and corporate legal departments, named after Arabella Mansfield, the first woman admitted to practice law in the United States when she received a law license from the Iowa Bar in 1869.21 The Mansfield Rule requires that employers consider diverse candidates for thirty percent of open positions in leadership or governance; thus, for ten potential hires, three must be women or minorities.22 With a significant cohort of prestigious firms and corporations committed to the effort, this new policy seems promising, but it is too soon to assess the impact. In 2010, the Securities and Exchange Commission began requiring companies to disclose efforts to address diversity when choosing board directors in their proxy statements; however, this effort has not increased the number of women on Fortune 500 boards.23 The data reveals a dismal picture where, even after implementation of the SEC rule, the number of women named to boards actually decreased by two percent, down from approximately twelve percent to ten percent.24 We do not mean to diminish the importance of policies like these, but we are more concerned with who is actually selected, not just who appears on the shortlist.
This book not only recounts the history of women shortlisted for the Supreme Court, but it develops their stories as a framework to identify the harms of shortlisting and strategize solutions for women to be selected, not just shortlisted. The individual life of each woman profiled here could easily be the subject of an entire book of her own. (For two women, this is actually the case.25) However, the stories of women shortlisted before and immediately after O’Connor’s confirmation have not yet been told in any meaningful way and have certainly not been studied in relation to one another as they are here. We believe there is power in a collective narrative of their lives, especially as we strive to better understand and ultimately ameliorate the dynamics that perpetually keep women on the shortlist. Each woman profiled here repeatedly went from shortlisted to selected as she ascended to the judiciary, the dean’s office, or the president’s cabinet, even if not selected from the ultimate shortlist for the Supreme Court. Their stories offer lessons to inform and remedy the pervasive, enduring gender inequality in positions of leadership and power.
It is time for more women to move from shortlisted to selected.