As a senior partner at a high-powered law firm in the Bay Street block of Toronto, Ontario, I wield a certain amount of power. The kind that a woman of my age and background isn't supposed to wield, at least in the eyes and minds of many, even in this supposedly liberal, racially diverse and progressive North American metropolis. Wherever I go, I attract the male gaze and revel in it, though few men can return my vicious, predatory stare. Perks of being a six-foot-tall, attractive woman in a business suit.
My name is Samira Safafi, and I was born in the City of Zahle, Lebanon, on November 9, 1985. Proud Scorpio, folks! Three years later, my parents, Amina and Antonius Safadi moved to the City of Toronto, Ontario, for political and religious reasons. You see, the conflict between Christians and Muslims was raging in the Republic of Lebanon, and my parents feared for our family's safety. While pregnant with my younger brother Samuel, my mother came to Canada as a refugee with me, and we were later joined by my father.
Why did I tell you that? Simply because I want you to know something about where I came from, and what truly drives me to excel at everything that I do. Life isn't easy. It's full of challenges, and people we barely comprehend. Stop running from conflict and sorrow, face them and defeat them, by fighting on your own terms. My parents met while they were both in a Christian militia fighting against Lebanese Muslim fighters and their Syrian allies. I guess you could say being a fighter is in my blood. That's why I don't tolerate bullshit.
"Malcolm, if you didn't want the responsibilities of being first chair in the Crown V. Maguire Case, all you had to do was say so," I said evenly, looking at my co-worker, Malcolm Tremblay, as he stood in my office on the seventeenth floor. From my window I could see all the way to College Street and Queen Street, and all the little people walking around looked like ants to me.
"I can handle it Sam," Malcolm said, in that French-inflected voice I once found charming. Standing five-foot-ten, with reddish brown hair and blue eyes, Malcolm was born and raised in Montreal, and earned a Law degree at McGill University before moving to Toronto. I bristled at the fact that he still called me Sam. As far as I'm concerned, what we had was over a long time ago. We slept together after the office Christmas party two years ago and I've regretted it ever since. Malcolm was a lousy lay, and a bit clingy, too.
"In here, you call me Miss Safadi," I said, in a polite but firm tone, and Malcolm nodded, then walked out of my office, feeling a bit deflated no doubt. Bastard deserves it as far as I'm concerned. A week ago, I overhead him say that he hoped Canada stopped taking in refugees from the Middle East. Racist bozo should count himself lucky I didn't fire him. Seriously.
I sat down and massaged my temples, wondering why on earth some people decide to become lawyers. I grew up watching shows like Law & Order, Boston Legal and The Practice, I guess that probably glamorized the legal profession in my eyes and influenced my choice of major when I enrolled at the University of Toronto in September 2003. I got my bachelor's degree in criminal justice in 2006 and went straight to the Faculty of Law at the University of Toronto, earning my Law degree in the summer of 2009.
I went to New York City for a bit, and studied for the bar exam, while brushing up on New York laws at Fordham University. I am licenced to practice Law in the State of New York, but I never really got the chance to practice there. For when I returned to Toronto, Ontario, I got hired by the good folks of Garibaldi, Winston and Tremblay. One of the most prestigious law firms on Bay Street.
This law firm, founded by three Law school buddies in the 1980s, now has four hundred and seventeen employees, and offices in Toronto, Ottawa, Vancouver, Montreal, and most recently, Buffalo, New York. After eight long years of hard work, I rose from associate to junior partner, and, when co-founder and senior partner Mateo Garibaldi retired, he nominated me to take his place, bypassing long-time junior partner Russell Peterson, one of the firm's sharks. The bozo has hated me ever since.
I'm honestly not surprised that I am feared at this topsy-turvy Canadian law firm. I'm a Middle-Eastern woman with an Arabic name, and an immigrant, and I'm highly educated and successful. I'm often mistaken for other ethnicities such as Brazilian or even Italian due to my long black hair, dark bronze skin and brown eyes but I always tell people, proudly I might add, that I am Lebanese-Canadian.
In the eyes of many older white men, that makes me a threat. The Confederation of Canada is changing, and we're starting to see highly educated and ambitious people from places like Africa, Latin America and the Middle East working in business offices from Toronto and Montreal to Calgary, and beyond. Not everyone is happy about such diversity in the Canadian workplace.
I'm good at my job and I'm in charge, and that makes me a target with a capital T. Last week, I represented Nadine Adewale, a sixty-two-year-old Nigerian immigrant woman who was suing Toronto Hydro for cutting off her power during the Christmas season last year, resulting in her being hospitalized after passing out in her frozen home. Only the due diligence of her friend and neighbor Joel, the young man next door who typically cleans up her driveway, saved Miss Adewale's life.
"Ma'am, I'm going to do anything in my power to make them pay," I said to Nadine Adewale, after the old woman approached me at the Starbucks where I usually get my morning coffee. Typically, senior partners at high-powered law firms in downtown Toronto don't take on clients like this, it's usually a firm decision, and said decisions are made based on the type of case, the client's detailed background ( ethnic, financial, political, educational ). There are issues of payment and liability to consider as well.
The firm wasn't thrilled that I took the case without consulting them, and typically this sort of case is tried by a junior associate, with a more experienced attorney as second-chair. I knew that the firm wouldn't even consider Nadine Adewale, even though, in my eyes, her case had merit. Toronto Hydro has been in the news for cutting power to vulnerable people unable to pay during the winter months, and they'd never been successfully sued for it...until now.
"God bless you dear," Nadine Adewale said to me as we stood in the middle of the packed courtroom at the old Toronto South Court on 70 Centre Avenue. The presiding Judge, the Honorable Lynn Vega, not only sided with us but awarded us a judgement of six hundred and forty thousand dollars. Considering how cheap and deeply conservative most Judges rule in cases like this, this finding was absolutely extraordinary. One third of that would go to our firm. How cool is that?
"You play with fire young lady," said my archrival Russell Peterson, after he found out about the Judge's ruling. I looked him up and down. Tall and skinny, with hair that was both receding and more salt than pepper, clad in a dark business suit, Russell was the very picture of an old-world patrician. With the hawkish eyes, aquiline nose and smug, vaguely condescending attitude that typically go with the territory.
