This issue of the Tennessee Bar Journal celebrates women.

Thanks to the dedicated efforts of the Women in the Profession Committee, we have objective data from which to study the practice environment for women lawyers in Tennessee. I’m grateful for the efforts of the committee and encourage you to read the article on page 25 about the survey results. I also encourage you to think about the women in your life, those who have shaped you, raised you, mentored you and loved you. I’ve spent a lot of time in the past few weeks thinking about those women in my life.

Tasha and her mom, Kay Blakney.

It’s no exaggeration to say I come from a long line of strong women, some of whom shaped me directly and others I never met, but who inspired me nonetheless. I never met my great-grandmother Nelly, but I loved the stories my father told me about her. She was not the milk and cookies type of grandmother. She farmed in West Tennessee with my great-grandfather, and she was not to be trifled with. My mother also told me stories about her grandmothers, neither of whom I had the chance to know. They were the type of women who were both soft and hard—fiercely protective, while being nurturing and warm.

Tasha's maternal grandmother, Era Belle Godwin Rich.

My own grandmother on my mother’s side spent her life as a farmer’s wife. Her formal education ended at the seventh grade, and she never learned to drive a car. Yet, she was one of the wisest people I’ve ever known. She delivered all three of her children, including my mom, in their home. She loved to take me and my cousins for walks in the woods, where we picked blackberries and drank fresh water from the creeks directly from Mason jars. She loved talk radio and the Lady Vols. She had a fearsome pet goose that attacked nearly everyone but her. I was in awe of her every day of her life.

Tasha's paternal grandmother, Eula Mae Carson Blakney.

My grandmother on my dad’s side was also an amazing woman. My dad, the youngest of her three, was the first in his family to be born in a hospital. After raising her three kids, my grandmother went back to school and became a nurse. My aunt followed her into that profession, and I now count at least six cousins on my dad’s side of the family who followed in her footsteps to become nurses. Her impact has been profound and far-reaching.

My mom is also a force. She had a long and impactful career as a social worker. I can’t possibly quantify the number of people she helped, whether it was children in the Memphis City Schools, adult patients at Lakeshore Mental Health Institute, foster children at Childhelp or patients in her years of private practice. She was the first person in her family to go to college. She taught me resilience, empathy and compassion, as well as a sense of curiosity for the world around me — near and far.

The impressions we form of the women around us when we are young matter. I have no doubt that I couldn’t have become the first woman in my family to go to law school without the commitment of love and guidance I had from the women who raised me.

This issue’s cover story features interviews with mothers and daughters in Tennessee’s legal community spanning more than 40 years. The women featured on pages 18-24 helped make it possible for subsequent generations, including their daughters, to follow them. They share their experiences of what it was like to enter the male-dominated practice of law in the 1970s and in the decades since. I hope you’ll feel inspired by the stories of these women through the generations.

As a professional, the relationships I’ve had with my female colleagues have enriched me and taught me how to be a better lawyer, advocate and friend. There is a special bond between us, forged by common experiences and mutual respect. I am grateful to every woman who came before me and helped pave my way, making my path even a bit easier, and I feel committed to doing that for the women who come next. I’m also grateful to the women who mentored me, and to the women who continue to serve as mentors now. The Tennessee Bar Association has a robust mentoring program, and if you’re interested, reach out to me anytime to learn more.

It should matter to us that women feel accepted and respected as professionals. We must accept that though we have made significant progress, we still have work to do in bridging the pay gap and, in some instances, the respect gap between our male and female colleagues.

There are so many men who are allies in this cause, and I am extraordinarily grateful to you. Women cannot advance in this profession without you.

While I was the first woman in my family to go to law school, I’m not the last. Our daughter Caroline was sworn into the Bar last year. The progress of women in the profession, therefore, means a great deal to me for many reasons. But let’s be very clear about one thing: you don’t need to be a woman who is a lawyer or to have a daughter who is a lawyer for the treatment of women to matter to you. It should matter to us all, as advocates and as members of a profession which seeks to right wrongs and advance justice. |||

TASHA C. BLAKNEY is a partner in the law firm of Eldridge & Blakney PC and is the president of the Tennessee Bar Association. She is engaged in criminal defense and general civil litigation on behalf of both plaintiffs and defendants, primarily in the areas of personal injury, wrongful death, workers’ compensation, medical malpractice, contract disputes, employment law and business litigation.