The Story of A Gap in the CV of an “Immigrant” Lawyer: Part 2
In my last post, I discussed why I decided to become an international lawyer.
Here I was, an optimistic student studying in Assam for the national law entrance examinations. Who would have known that I would graduate in 2017 with two international training contract offers?
The glory belongs to my University. That is the place where I learned about the value of opportunities. I could crack international interviews because I had systematic access to opportunities and sponsorship during my legal education, which helped me craft a competitive CV. Thinking about it now, that structure wired my brain to always “apply” — which I have realized since is a barrier that holds so many students back. It was all because I never had to worry about the logistics of showing up. I only had to focus on preparation and performance.
But that is only the beginning.
Moving to the UK to start an international legal career meant embracing a new identity—that of an immigrant. I don’t think anything quite prepares one for this new life.
There is a novelty in being an immigrant. But there is no glamour in it. There is the charm of exploring a new country, but there is a significant vulnerability in leaving behind one’s friends, family, and a natural support system and building a life from scratch in a new country. I had to prove my suitability to immigrate by submitting, amongst other things, evidence that I was proficient in English and a certificate that I didn’t have Tuberculosis. For the longest time, the most essential thing in my life was the folder of documents evidencing my legal identity in India and the UK — I wouldn’t have been able to pass through Heathrow without it. From learning to identify one’s designated lane at the airport to understanding the importance of Colin the Caterpillar — there was a lot to absorb.
Some like to use the phrase “cultural shock.” I don’t like it because I think it assumes that the recipient of the “shock” is somehow fragile. I would say that immigration is about embracing “cultural discomfort.” The quickest way to navigate this discomfort is for the immigrant to adapt because they are in a better position to change themselves than to influence the cultural expectations of others. Another way to navigate the discomfort is to understand the core areas where a certain degree of adaptability is required (for instance, learning to have conversations about the weather), upskill in those specific areas, and retain the rest of one’s identity. It takes longer, and the results are not immediate, but I have found that to be the most natural way of integrating into a different country.
It is important to note here that immigrating for a job differs from immigrating for studies. In the first scenario, candidates have no real “ease in” period. You are in business from day one and are expected to understand all cultural navigation routes from the word get-go. The office is where you plant the roots of the tree of your immigrant life. The people you meet become representatives of the city and its culture. The experiences at the workplace become the lens through which you see your immigrant life. Your connection to your job becomes fundamental in determining how well-settled and connected you feel in your immigrant life.
That leads me to the question: what happens when you disconnect? Why would you even disconnect? And what would you go looking for?
Coming up next.
