Her accent is undeniably East Coast-driven — as is the speed of her speaking, oftentimes tossing your way three balls to play with and throwing three more before you have time to pick one from the initial bunch. Her voice has a rasp to it that is easily what one would think of if trying to create the character of Stereotypical Jewish Mother. And more importantly, if one were to analyze the aura that is Gloria Allred, there is an unmistakable, fundamental characteristic: it lacks warmth and is saturated in one thing and one thing alone — the law and how it operates within the scope of civil rights.
Before you are quick to assume an automatically pejorative interpretation to those three key words — “lack of warmth” — I would like to preface that assumption with the fact that it is not necessarily that Gloria is unapproachable; quite the opposite really. She can and will talk endlessly — about her career, about her cases, about her hopes for the United States Constitution. For me, these are not “warm” concepts but rather concrete concepts since they are based around facts and direct references. In writer’s terms, they are not literary but entirely journalistic; throughly textual rather than purely poetic.
And this is what contributes to both her brilliance and the polemical attitude many have with her.
In fact, an hour before my interview, I ran into two female friends while working from my makeshift desk at a coffeehouse. In a perfect example of the polarization which Gloria’s personality generates, when I stated I was going to speak soon with the famed lawyer, I received two distinct responses: a vitriolic dismissal of Allred as a “media whore” who abuses the marginalization of women in order to simply further her own power and, on the other hand, an undeniably enthusiastic response in which my friend was jealous that I was going to speak to “one of the most important women in legal history.”
Of course, I decided to immediately go for the jugular and ask her what her response is to women (and men) who perceive her as a media-savvy power-seeker who lacks authenticity with regards to women’s rights. And instead of diving into a philosophical discussion of how this perception could occur — the question of how it is possible that a woman could perceive another woman (who has fought for women’s rights to an extent that no other lawyer ever has, no less) as anti-feminine — she instead went back to court.
“I need a specific case, Brian, do y’know what I’m saying?” she quipped, as if, when there is an opinion expressed outside of some formal record, it is invalid; as if “public perception” is not grounded in anything evidential. “Are you saying,” her tone immediately facetious, “that I’ve been doing these cases for 36 years but I don’t believe in them?” When I responded that yes, indeed, that is exactly what some people claim, she paused only for a part of a second, the brief silence affirming her stance that her rhetorical question is indeed a joke and ill-grounded. “Brian, we’ve represented thousands of clients… In the last ten years alone, we’ve won hundreds of millions of dollars for victims — most of them [being] women.” She then follows this with a litany of recognitions she has received from officials.
That lack of warmth — “I need a specific case” rather than admitting such a perception exists — often comes with a beguiling attraction — she consistently said my name throughout our talk — since her arguments are succinct and yet, simultaneously outside of normal conversation. After all, only a lawyer would equate human rights success with the amount of money generated for said victim.
“There are still women who believe they should be second-class citizens, Brian, that they should suffer in silence and be denied their rights. They’re entitled to their opinion. I am an advocate, a warrior, and an attorney who fights for those who believe my beliefs have merit,” she iterates. “So, I’m not a politician — I’m an attorney. So to the woman who says what she said–” she chuckles with a snort of sorts “– she’s entitled to whatever opinion.”
I was unable to — at least within the in the span of my interview and even after repeatedly replaying it — pinpoint whether she views the world as a courtroom or whether the courtroom and its accompanying court-speak have invaded her perception to the extent that, at least when dealing with the media, she is unable to detach herself from it.
“Womanhood?” she retorts when asked if she believes in a single definition of womanhood or a multi-faceted one. “I don’t know what people mean by ‘womanhood.’ I don’t know what that means, Brian — ‘woman…hood.’ I deal with issues involving denial of rights on account of gender. I don’t even think I’ve used the term ‘womanhood’ so I don’t even know a context in which that word can be used.” She pauses quickly again. “‘Womanhood’? I… I don’t know. […] I guess I would say look at what Webster says.”
Though I am beginning to sound somewhat redundant, Gloria — unquestionably, undeniably — does not deal with hypotheticals, philosophy, or theories — besides, of course, the theory of law (which, I would venture to say, she would argue is not a theory). And despite one’s opinion of her, she is a force within her field that not only begs to be reckoned with but also strives for a belief that is held deeply within her. In fact, I truly believe that, while media-hunger, power-trips, and a work-drive that parallels few may contribute to which cases she picks, there is undoubtedly a belief in equality that brews within her that is unlike many.
You can call her hyperbolic: she compared the Boys Scouts of America to Saudi Arabia in terms of gender exclusion following the denial of a young girl into the Scouts. You can call her cold: she did refer me to a dictionary. But one thing you cannot charge her with is a lack of belief in what she does.
“We still have a long road ahead of us, a long road in the fight for equality. […] I don’t see enough commitment on behalf of women’s rights organization and women [in general] to fight to win an equal rights amendment,” she said, even calling on women to regard the LGBT’s fight for rights. “Mother Jones said, ‘Don’t agonize, organize’ — and that’s what the gay and lesbian community has done in many cases.”
And towards the end of our conversation, when I thanked her for the fascinating (indeed, it truly was) talk, she suddenly altered her tone. Perhaps it was the fact that she suddenly realized my questions were more philosophically and privately driven, lacking any care about specific cases and more about a desire to understand her drive. Perhaps it was, as many accuse her of, jumping on a chance to play the last-word-in game to make sure she doesn’t sound as lawyer-like as she does.
“Tomorrow [July 3] is my birthday, Brian — I’m turning 71,” she says with a sense of calm, her speed of speech slowing down. “And I’d like to think — I hope — within my lifetime, I can see an equal rights amendment added to the United States Constitution that would simply say that the equality of rights under the law should not be denied nor abridged by the State on account of sex.” It was here, for the first time in our entire conversation, that a dream was spoken of. And similarly, it was also here where we got a glimpse of Gloria and not Gloria Allred.
“And being at the Women’s Conference, well, I hope women are as fired up as I am every day of my life. It takes an unforeseen amount of strength for my clients to stand up and go against the rich and powerful and famous, batterers, sexual harassers, killers, big corporations, and government — that’s why my clients do. We do it as a team. We fight the good fight and that’s what I hope [and] plan to do for the rest of my life.”