Across half a century, New Zealand's legal profession has moved from open exclusion of women and Māori toward a place where a woman can lead a major firm or sit on the bench, though the path has been uneven and the work is not finished. Deborah Chambers KC, writing in the NZ Herald after the latest round of King's Counsel appointments, reads her own career against the memory of Dame Silvia Cartwright, whose experiences of robing rooms, hiring, and humiliation mark the distance travelled. What she finds is real progress that has not yet reached everyone equally: harassment lingers in silence, t
Women in Law: 'We've Come a Long Way, Baby' Still Isn't Arrival, Says Deborah Chambers KC
Many women lawyers of her generation experienced sexual harassment, and some feared career damage if they complained.
Opening the door is not the same as sharing the top-level work.
Mark
Why does Chambers open with Dame Silvia Cartwright rather than her own story?
Mimi
Cartwright's memoir gives the baseline: the toilet as a robing room, the pay gap, the best-legs remark. Chambers then shows she changed in the same toilet two decades later.
Mark
So the progress isn't a straight line from then to now.
Mimi
No. She says her 1983 firms had no women partners, and the one woman partner at the third was unmarried and childless. The barrier was a profile, not just a sex.
Luke
Worth noting this is an opinion piece. The 40% Simpson Grierson figure comes from Pip Muir, quoted by Chambers, not from a published survey.
Mark
And the harassment claims?
Mimi
She says most women lawyers of her generation experienced some form of it, herself included. She says it's far better now but not gone.
Luke
That's her assessment. She offers no data on current complaint numbers, so how much better is not established here.
Mark
What about the Māori KC appointments?
Mimi
She names Matanuku Mahuika and Isaac Hikaka and rejects any idea they're token, citing personal knowledge of their work.
Luke
Two appointments show a direction, but they don't yet show sustained leadership. And her claim that women get fewer major commercial briefs is her impression, stated without figures.
El Pulso
- Women who entered the law in the 1980s faced unwritten bans on partnership, and many endured harassment they could not safely report.
- Partnership ratios have climbed sharply, with Simpson Grierson now at 40% women where it once had three women among 40 partners.
- Major commercial briefs and leading higher-court cases still flow disproportionately to men, leaving a quiet gap beneath the headline gains.
- The Law Society is under pressure to build a specialist harassment process, while two new Māori KCs signal a rank slowly opening beyond its long white history.
- Young mothers in gruelling private practice are drifting toward in-house and government roles, and the profession has yet to solve that exodus.
Across half a century, New Zealand's legal profession has moved from open exclusion of women and Māori toward a place where a woman can lead a major firm or sit on the bench, though the path has been uneven and the work is not finished. Deborah Chambers KC, writing in the NZ Herald after the latest round of King's Counsel appointments, reads her own career against the memory of Dame Silvia Cartwright, whose experiences of robing rooms, hiring, and humiliation mark the distance travelled. What she finds is real progress that has not yet reached everyone equally: harassment lingers in silence, the most prized briefs still tilt toward men, and the demands of family life still push talented women away from private practice.
In the 1960s, Dame Silvia Cartwright was one of only two women in her Otago law class. She later became the first woman judge of the High Court, but her early career carried the marks of its time: a job won over ten rivals at a lower wage, a remark that she got it for her legs, a robing room closed to women, and a judge who told her to lengthen her skirt. Her memoir, That Woman, is now the yardstick Deborah Chambers KC uses to measure how far the profession has come.
Chambers writes from her own years, starting about two decades after Cartwright. She joined her first firm in 1983 and found an unwritten rule against women partners. Her second firm had none either, and her third had a single recently made partner who was unmarried and childless, the only model the profession seemed willing to accept. Chambers was young, married and planning children, and partnership was dangled in front of her without ever feeling truly open. The barrier was not only gender. The partners were largely male, Pākehā and drawn from a similar background of schools, families and clubs, and she, from a working-class home, never felt she belonged.
Her generation rarely spoke of the harder truth: some partners abused their power, and nearly every woman she knew faced sexual harassment. Complaining risked a career before it had begun. Women's submissions sometimes carried less weight, and clients asked for men because a woman supposedly could not be aggressive enough. Women who made partner were mostly commercial lawyers serving banks and corporates, while litigators like Chambers often turned to the bar.
The change now is clear. Women lead the courts, run major firms and sit on the Law Society. At Simpson Grierson, women went from three of 40 partners in the late 1980s to 40 percent today. Chambers credits advocacy groups, the Auckland Women Lawyers' Association, and above all the women who did excellent work. Yet progress is uneven. Big commercial briefs and leading higher-court cases still favour men, young women remain wary of complaining, and the Law Society needs specialists and a proper process to handle harassment. Two new Māori KCs, Matanuku Mahuika and Isaac Hikaka, show a similar opening for Māori lawyers, whom Chambers praises as brilliant rather than token.
For young women now, the profession is far less hostile, though they may still need to be a little better than their male peers. The real strain is the clash between young children and punishing private-practice hours, which pushes too many talented women into in-house or government work. Chambers does not see the old attitudes returning, but her verdict is firm: the profession has come a long way and has not yet arrived.
In the 1960s, Dame Silvia Cartwright was one of only two women in her Otago law class. She went on to become the first woman judge of the High Court, in 1993. Along the way she won her first law clerk's job over 10 other applicants, for less pay than the men, and was told she got it because she had the best legs. The court robing room was for men only, so women changed in the toilet. One judge told her to lengthen her skirt. Another marked women divorce litigants out of 10. Her memoir, That Woman, was published recently, and Deborah Chambers KC points to it as the measure of how far the profession has come.
Chambers writes from her own experience, in a piece published by the NZ Herald after Attorney-General Chris Bishop announced 12 new King's Counsel on October 16, 2026. She arrived about 20 years after Cartwright, and the Auckland High Court still had no usable robing room for women. She changed in the toilet too.
She does not claim her start matched Cartwright's, but says the assumptions had not gone away. She joined her first firm in 1983 and was soon told it had an unwritten policy of no women partners. The second firm she moved to had none either. The third had one recently appointed woman partner, who was unmarried, childless and devoted to the job. That was what the profession then asked of a woman who wanted to make partner. Chambers was young, married and planning children. Partnership was dangled, she says, but she was never sure it was open to her. It was not only about sex: the partners the firms wanted were male, Pākehā and from a certain background, with the right schools, the right families and the same clubs. She came from a working-class family and felt she did not fit. She describes the partners as often supportive one to one, but collectively slow to change, choosing people they were comfortable with.
There is a harder part of the history, she writes, which her generation rarely spoke of. Some partners took real advantage of their power over young women, and most women lawyers of her generation suffered some form of sexual harassment, herself included. People kept their heads down, because complaining could end a career before it began. Judges sometimes gave less weight to women's submissions, and clients told bosses they did not want a young woman because she could not be aggressive enough. The first women into partnership tended to be commercial lawyers acting for banks and big corporates, whose clients were less likely to object. Litigators like Chambers tended to go to the bar.
The change since then, she says, is stark. Women lead the courts, run major firms and fill the Law Society's ranks. Pip Muir, now chair of Simpson Grierson, says only three of its 40 partners were women when she made partner in the late 1980s. Today the figure is 40%. Chambers credits advocacy groups, and the Auckland Women Lawyers' Association speaking up when individual women could not, but mostly the women doing the job well. Half of those coming out of law school were women, and the profession needed talented young lawyers.
She argues progress has been uneven. More women has not meant an equal share of the major briefs or of leading cases in the higher courts, particularly in commercial litigation. Harassment is much better than it was, but young women are still nervous about complaining for fear of harming their prospects. The Law Society is trying, she says, but its current structure does not handle harassment well and needs specialist people and a specialist process.
A similar shift is under way for Māori. Matanuku Mahuika KC and Isaac Hikaka KC are the two new Māori KCs. Chambers calls them brilliant lawyers, not token appointments; Mahuika is in her chambers and she has worked closely with Hikaka. The rank has long been very white, she says, and is changing through talent and the removal of discrimination.
For young women entering the profession now, she sees a far less discriminatory place, where they can expect treatment much like their male colleagues, though they probably still have to perform a little better. The hard part is balancing young children with gruelling private-practice hours, and too many talented women drift into in-house or government roles because of it. Unlike Cartwright, Chambers does not believe the old attitudes are returning. Her verdict is that the profession has come a long way, but has not arrived.
Citas Notables
We've come a long way, baby. Although that is not the same as saying we have arrived.— Deborah Chambers KC
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