Op-Ed: A Girl’s Game in a Boys’ Club: Sexism, Exclusivity, and Softball at UVA Law
The University of Virginia School of Law hosted the 43rd annual UVA Law Softball Invitational this spring, alongside a celebration of fifty years of the North Grounds Softball League (NGSL). While the tournament is typically held the first weekend of April, this year’s tournament took place in March, during Women’s History Month. To many, this may seem like a fitting time to host a tournament showcasing a sport long shaped and led by women. For the women of Virginia Law, however, the timing carries a different kind of irony.
Softball is a major foundational pillar of the UVA Law experience. During student-led tours, admitted students and law school hopefuls are told the tale that the lockers in the law school are designed for your casebooks and your softball bat. Guides speak at length of UVA Law’s storied tradition and its contribution to the school’s strong sense of community—or, dare I say, “collegiality.” It’s unsurprising, then, that the opportunity to be a part of something so special and distinctive is a major draw for many prospective students, as it was for me.
As a former competitive athlete, my life was defined by sports. While I pursued basketball more seriously throughout my life, it was basketball and softball, together, that both gave me life and shaped my life. To think that there was a forum where I could play again in an organized way on a regular basis was too appealing. I knew how important it was—physically, mentally, and emotionally—to have this outlet, and I knew this was likely the last time I would ever have this opportunity.
While my draw to the game might have been personal to me, I watched softball come to hold a special place in the hearts of so many students. Some had been playing their whole lives. For others, this was their first time putting on a glove. Even more came to socialize, get outside, drink beer, and have fun. Sports have a special way of giving people a sense of belonging and bringing people together, and softball is no different. The game does not know status. It is not self-seeking and welcomes anyone who is willing to step into the batter’s box. Best of all, it rewards dedication, teamwork, and unity, values that should not be lost on us as future lawyers.
When the game ceases to be all of these things, we all lose.
Over my three years at UVA Law, I’ve seen women pulled and yanked across the field in between batters to place them in a spot where the ball is less likely to be hit. I’ve seen men and women turned away from participating in the tournament and from umpiring during the year—not because of anything they did, but because they were not members of a social club. I’ve seen men bat twice before their female teammates have had the chance to bat once. And this year, the blatant sexism and disrespect ultimately drove me to become the third woman, in my short time here, to walk away from the Gold Tournament Team.
“Being a good female athlete means your skill level is more often qualified by your gender: ‘you are one of the best female players.’ I wonder how many men have been told, ‘You are one of the best male players.’ Probably very few.”
UVA Law alumna
That’s why I’m writing this: for the women who have been treated as less than, and for all future UVA Law students who just want the chance to be involved, who otherwise will not have it if we let things continue as they are. Softball at UVA is such an amazing tradition, and it should be a place of inclusion for all students and a space where men and women feel valued for their contributions on and off the field. We should be better. We can be better. I know we can.
Before the end of my first semester of 1L, I was playing four to five games a week on multiple teams. I was playing well, felt like my old self, and was invited to play on the “Co-Rec Gold” tournament team. By the time 2L began, I became increasingly uneasy. UVA Law has a tradition every fall called “Dandelion,” where 1L sections compete in a “dance-off,” and the winner plays the Tournament Team, presumably to get beat pretty badly on the field. Having joined the tournament team, I was excited to be a part of it.
When I didn’t hear from anyone about the game, I learned that the 1L section team plays a team made up of NGSL members, only some of whom are on the Gold Tournament Team, and none of whom were women. I was one of three females from the previous year’s Gold Tournament team who remained at the law school: none of us were invited to participate. At that point, I realized that despite being the starting pitcher and eventual assistant captain for the Law School’s “best” team, I could not participate in any other softball-related activities. That was the first time I truly felt “left out.”
The decisions, the opportunity to umpire during the year, the tournament, the charity work—all of it—is run by the North Grounds Softball League, and none of it is open to law students who are not chosen to be part of the organization. NGSL has everything and nothing to do with softball: everything, because the organization plans and schedules the academic season, selects and “trains” umpires, and hosts the tournament; nothing, because the same organization operates like a fraternity, with the majority of members, largely unconnected from the softball community, the game, and the tournament, call the shots.
The result is that the students who are excited to get involved–whether by umpiring during the year or assisting with tournament planning and logistics– are turned away without explanation, and without any fair or transparent application process. Instead, membership is “secretly tapped,” initiated in a way that closely resembles Greek life. Those tapped are, anecdotally, chosen based on their participation in Friday night Bar Reviews, rather than for their participation on the softball field.
The 2026 UVA Law Invitational Tournament raised more than $50,000 for a local charity, a tremendous feat. Imagine what we could accomplish if we created opportunities for all UVA Law students to get involved in the philanthropic side of UVA Law softball? Imagine if we did not actively close off pathways for UVA Law students to volunteer for a charity because they were selected for a social club? As one of the top law schools in the nation, we are uniquely positioned to give back. It's time we encourage each other to do just that, and it’s time we hold ourselves to a higher standard: our future clients deserve it.
When a friend and I inquired about umpiring, we were brushed aside. I was confused—hadn’t I proven myself as not only one of the better female softball players, but one of the better players here at UVA Law? I learned quickly it had nothing to do with my athletic ability—I was just persona non grata—welcome enough to keep taking fastballs to the shin but not enough to have any input in how softball was run here. As my time at UVA Law progressed, I felt increasingly excluded in a way I never had before in my life.
This has a direct effect on the experience on the softball field. In many instances, umpires are assigned games to ump. And often, many visibly would rather not have to be there, and spend most of their time on their phones behind home plate. I can think of many friends who would have a blast “punching people out” on strike three, interacting with players, and bringing joy and levity to every pitch. Instead, we’re often left with colleagues who seem disengaged, and whose limited knowledge of the rules—coupled with the occasional power trip—result in erroneous consequential calls in games.
“I would have loved to umpire and [have always] said that umpiring should not have been determined by NGSL but by individuals who played softball and wanted to umpire. The vast majority of umpires—both men and women—were [not good] . . . I noticed a difference, however, in how people talked about the bad female umpires compared to the bad male umpires. A bad woman umpire was to be expected, since women don’t know anything about sports—I often felt like everyone just assumed a woman was going to be a bad umpire when they saw her on the field (except for a select few who everyone knew as being good at softball and into sports). I felt like sometimes the bad male umpires got a pass, whether because they were good at sports or just perceived as knowing more about sports by virtue of their gender.”
Clare Hachten ’25
Matt Wulf ’25 once told me, “I figured we were short on umps and offered to help. The [NGSL] Commissioner told me they’d let me know. Of course, they never did, because NGSL.” Wulf went on to say, “I still don’t care what it is [or] what they [NGSL] all do, but I was always a fan and advocate for softball at UVA, and think things that undermine it—like apathetic and inadequate umps–are bad.” Shouldn’t we let people who know the rules, have a good attitude, and want to umpire . . . ump?
“It was disappointing and embarrassing to ask how I could get involved and to realize that getting to ump was based on membership in a secretive and exclusive group, rather than based on enjoying softball and wanting to help my fellow students have a fun and fair time.”
Cayleigh Soderholm ’26
Come 2L, I started to notice issues that had evaded me during 1L, the most egregious of which was the structure of the batting line-ups. NGSL’s rulebook states that the Amateur Softball Association (ASA) Official Softball rules “generally” govern NGSL rules, with certain qualifiers.1 ASA, rebranded in 2016 as USA Softball, is the national governing body for the sport of softball, including the United States National Softball Team. The 2025 Official Rules of Softball, published by USA Softball, states that, “The batting order for Co-Ed shall alternate genders.”2 The NGSL rulebook, instead, states that “At least every third batter must be a non-male identifying person,” in the regular league rules, and that “No more than two male players may bat in a row,” for the tournament rules. The USA Softball rule ensures that women are not relegated to the bottom of the line-up. This very thought process is, however, incredibly problematic: it assumes that all women will be relegated to the bottom of the order by virtue of being lesser batters. Notwithstanding the problematic presupposition in both sets of rules, the USA Softball rules ensure that women are afforded an equal opportunity to bat, whereas the NGSL rules have resulted in a perverse effect in practice. Rather than have one line-up with men and women interspersed, as the rule suggests, the culture at UVA Law is for teams to create two separate line-ups: one for men and one for women. The result? Men bat twice before many women bat once.
And, for women at the top of their respective line-ups, even they will often bat once for every time their male counterpart bats twice—sometimes once for every time a man bats thrice. This is especially true on 1L teams when a large number of women play on a team for the first time. This is their first experience with softball at UVA. It is no wonder why female participation drops precipitously on many 2L and 3L teams. No woman should be skipped over for a chance to bat once in favor of a man batting twice strictly because she is a woman. This must change.
In some cases, more than half the men on a lineup will bat twice before any of these women bat once.
In fact, the only way to ensure equity with two separate line-ups is to limit the number of women who play—a perverse result, indeed. The math does not lie. In my last playoff game this past fall, by the end of the game, I realized I had batted once, while every male player had batted three times. This is as denigrating as it is illogical, even from a purely game-winning, strategic perspective. In my sole time up at bat, I recorded a beautiful, clean hit, scored, and was credited with my baserunning for the reason the runner behind me was able to follow me home. I cannot say the same for all my male counterparts, despite their additional opportunities. And, had the final male who batted in the game recorded the final out, one of the female players on our team would not have had the chance to bat at all. We still lost the game.
“Sexism is deeply entrenched in the rules and culture. For example, almost everyone defaults to separate lineups for men and women, even when the ratio is such that doing so means women hardly get to bat, either because of inertia or because it confers a competitive advantage to have strong guys bat more often. This is really frustrating and is one of many things that has made me feel like women are structurally less valued as part of the softball community than men are.”
Cayleigh Soderholm (’26)
With that in mind, then, it is not at all dramatic to assume that if there are an equal number of men and women on a team, a woman at the bottom of the female line-up may not bat at all. When asked over text if she would be attending one of her games, 3L Emily Kostanecki (’26) replied and said, “I’m just not going. There’s [an] equal number [] of genders, so the girls will hardly play, not worth it.”
There’s something inherently denigrating about getting skipped over for a male to bat twice before you bat once, strictly because you are female. It is especially frustrating when you are markedly better than your male counterparts and becomes infuriating on the tournament team. Softball, particularly at this level, is a game of “small ball.” It is often smarter to rely on a female player who can consistently produce singles or doubles than on a male player who is as likely to pop up as to hit a home run. Compound this with the fact that hitting in slow-pitch softball is largely a mental game, and the result is that female teammates are down on themselves. In a co-ed game, this is not a recipe for success.
Place a woman at the bottom of a lineup because of her skill, and she is treated like any other player—a softball player. Place her in a separate line-up because she is female, and she becomes something else: a woman who plays softball.
After playing softball for three years at UVA Law, I can say this with confidence: a system based on merit would see more men at the bottom of the line-ups during the academic season than you may think. Either way, one single line-up would ensure that no one, man or woman, bats twice before everyone has had a chance to bat once. We can accomplish this while still requiring that women be interspersed throughout the order, without resorting to separate lineups based on sex or gender.
Another practice that’s become commonplace is permitting a female batter to automatically take first base if the male batter in front of her walks on three straight balls. As one UVA Law alumna put it, “The walk rule can help players get on base who otherwise would struggle to do so. However, I think we should question what needing these rules presupposed in the first place: that without these requirements, teams would devolve into non-inclusive environments where female players are benched, hidden, and eventually pushed out. And I think we should question why these concerns exist more than the rules guarding against them.”
The problem with the walk rule is the ubiquity of the practice. Even when women are just as capable as their male counterparts of getting a hit, they are still, culturally, expected to just take first base. This loses all logic on the tournament team, where our female batters are just as, if not more capable, of recording a hit. And, unbeknownst to most of us at UVA Law, even if the woman opts not to take the walk, the male in front of her can still advance to second base. For those of us familiar with the game, this is actually an advantageous position: you have someone at the plate who can make contact with the ball, and a runner in scoring position with no force out.
At the 2025 UVA Law Softball Invitational, the Indiana University Maurer School of Law has become known as one of the stronger teams. Their shortstop, a woman, was one of their best players. While watching one of their games, her male teammate walked on three balls. Rather than take first base, with no one batting an eye, she stepped up to the plate. The male player advanced to second. She had a beautiful hit—a double—and drove him home. Why can’t we encourage that?
“I felt as if I was there to fill a quota for ‘non-males’ and not for much else…it was like P.E. class in middle school where a boy says to you, ‘Don’t worry; you just have to stand there, and if you get the ball, hand it to me.’ I played competitive travel softball for seven years, primarily as a center fielder. I felt stereotyped as not fast enough, strong enough, or coordinated enough to play in that position, and I wasn’t meaningfully given a chance to prove otherwise. Playing in an active fielding position would mean I would get the ball. I felt many of my teammates didn’t trust me to make a play or know what to do—a sentiment I never heard nor felt in all my years of playing a sport designed to give women the chance to excel athletically on a diamond.”
Former UVA Law player
Ultimately, it became clear that there was an implicit assumption that even the best female athletes fell short of your average Joe-Shmoe, despite demonstrable evidence to the contrary. Of course, there are times when the strength of a male’s arm or his athleticism will make his positioning at shortstop or in left field sensible; but even when this was not the case, I watched as superior female athletes got banished to second base and right field—decisions that were as ill-informed as they were denigrating, even from a purely game-winning, strategic perspective.
Not long after getting back to North Grounds for my second year at UVA Law, NGSL decided to shake up tournament team selection. The thought was that things were occurring in a “black box”—no one knew how the tournament teams were chosen, and those who wanted a shot at a tournament team never had a chance to try. Beginning with the 2025 tournament, NGSL would host open tryouts for the five tournament teams.
I welcomed the idea and appreciated the effort to make the tournament more open and inclusive. While I do believe those who advocated for the change were well-intentioned, it came without a structural change in NGSL. As a result, I’ve watched the one-year-old system be abused by the powers that be, sidelining even more women and law students than before.
Part of the change included a complete restructuring of the 2024 tournament teams. This included the NGSL executive board selecting a new captain for the tournament teams, including my team, the Gold Team (aptly renamed “Virginia”).
Emma Callaghan ’25 was one of the best pure fielders I had ever seen. A shortstop by trade, Emma spent her time at UVA Law trapped at second base, despite the fact that, in the two years I played with Emma, I couldn’t recall witnessing one error. Emma had been on the Gold Team the whole time she had been in law school, and was one of two returning 3L players. The other, given his role as NGSL Commissioner, opted against selecting himself as captain. That left Emma as the sole returner eligible for captainship.
Instead, the NGSL board selected a male who had never been on the Gold Team to lead us. I want to be completely clear: I have nothing but respect for my former captain and the 2024—2025 NGSL Commissioner. They always made me feel welcomed and included, and the decision to set in motion a new system, I do believe, was well-intentioned, especially considering our head captain did have the skills to have been on the Gold Team all along, but himself was subject to the backwardness of the system. The inception of a new process, however, meant that Emma would be sidelined.
Our 3L captain selected me as our team’s assistant captain. I was honored, and have nothing but good things to say about my experience working with him. The justification was this: rather than having two 3L captains, selecting a 2L female as an assistant would not only be a way to represent the first and second year students and women on the team, but also position me to serve as head captain the following year. After all, softball at UVA Law is a co-ed sport, and the rules mandate that 40% of the field must be women. It would make sense, then, to alternate between a male head and a female head captain.
When this was presented to Emma, true to form, Emma supported my position on the team, and, like a true captain, advocated for what was teed up as a rightful succession for me, a woman, to be the head captain the following year.
“There is also the existence of the co-rec line and the way that some outfielders would dramatically creep up, basically to the infield, any time a woman came up to bat. This happened to me frequently and sometimes I was able to hit it over their heads and make it to third base while the outfielder ran back to go get the ball. During a regular season championship game the fall (I think) of my 3L year, one man sat down—literally—in centerfield when a petite woman came up to the plate. I understand the logic of the co-rec line because most women aren’t going to hit the ball as far as men might, but there was something patronizing about the way the entire outfield ran in every time a woman was hitting.”
Clare Hachten ’25
So, despite being on the brink of exiting from UVA Law softball, my new captainship—and what I believed would turn into a head captainship—kept me in the game. I stayed (somewhat) quiet, wanting to wait until I was in a position of power so I could make practical changes I hoped would be the first step in a cultural shift that included, among other things, fielding women appropriately, rotating out the catcher position, abolishing the two-line up system, and abandoning the walk rule; all things that I know would create a better culture, lift up the women on the team, and above all, make playing fun for the 40% of us on the team.
I had also hoped to use my role to ensure more women would be selected for the “Open” teams that UVA Law fields during the tournament. As part of the new tryout process, UVA Law would field two teams to play in the tournament’s “Open” division. The label merely means that there are no gender or sex requirements; the team could field ten women, one woman, or no women. In spite of its name, guess which one resulted.
“Why are female players rarely the third-base coaches? Why are former college or high-school varsity softball players still filling largely pre-determined spots?”
UVA Law alumna
As an assistant captain, I had a full view of the 85+ law students who came to try-outs. I noticed that the women were pigeon-holed into fighting for a spot on one of the three co-ed teams. As a result, women who were not selected for any of the co-ed teams were left off the rosters entirely, despite being better than several of the men selected for the Open teams. It was clear that the “no gender” requirement was code for “men-only.” This was reflected in the way I have since heard how the Open team is discussed around the law school. In the past three weeks alone, on two separate occasions, I’ve heard students—including some involved in NGSL—refer to the Open team as “men’s only.” That this is a commonly held belief is indicative of a broader cultural problem. Funnily enough, in 2025, the University of Pennsylvania won the Open division at the UVA Law tournament with a woman on the team. At UVA Law, it seems, the no-gender requirement really just means no women.
Nevertheless, I stuck it out and stuck it out, only to be blindsided in a way that could only be interpreted by an objective observer as a profound display of disrespect.
In September, a blast email went out to the entire law school with information about tryouts and the 2026 UVA Law Invitational Tournament. To my surprise, the email named two new captains of the NGSL Gold Team, both of whom are in NGSL. The head captain? A male.
This meant that for the second year in a row, a male, who had never before been on the Gold Tournament Team, was selected over a woman who had been on the Gold Tournament team her whole time in law school. Everything was in place to have a female head captain after having had a male head captain, and one who was deserving, not just “a woman for women’s sake.”
I reached out to Emma Callaghan to tell her what had happened. In reflecting back, she said, “During my tenure on UVA Gold, I was often assured that changes were being made to ensure that the women on the team would be treated equally and allowed to lead the team in the future. In hindsight, it seems that promises of progress within NGSL served to quiet dissent more than promote equal treatment.”
My text to the powers that be was respectful. It read, “No hard feelings, . . . I just think I deserved a heads up, is all.” I then wished them good luck at tryouts.
The response was disappointing, but not surprising. Rather than an apology, I was told that, because NGSL had moved away from a “black box” system, the team captains would change every year, and that captains would be selected in a way that was just as “unbiased and equitable” as the previous year. I said I understood, but given this was the first transition from last year’s new system, it was all the more reason I deserved to be advised of the decision before a blast email to the entire school, “Especially given the time and effort I put in, I think it goes without saying that I deserved a heads up, that’s all. I think that’s fair.”
I never received a response. I’d like to say it didn’t bother me, but I’d be lying. I was hurt.
At that point, I realized that the environment was one I was no longer able to be a part of, and I officially became the third female to walk away from the team since my 1L year, and the second out of the three returning females to leave last year’s team. When I did not come to tryouts, and no one reached out, it only reassured me I had made the right decision. So, while I was unable to implement the changes I wanted to as a captain, I decided to take an alternate route by putting pen to paper.
I set out to learn how the “unbiased and equitable” decision was made. Part of me thought I would be more understanding if there had been a vote; the other part of me thought I would be even less accepting if there had been a vote, since the NGSL executive board consists of only one returning member of the tournament team. Other NGSL board members have admitted they pay little to no attention to the softball part of UVA Law softball, and instead are in charge of logistics and social planning. My intention as head captain was to have the team vote for an assistant captain; that assistant would then become the next head captain, and so on and so forth.
I found out that the “unbiased and equitable” process involved two top NGSL executives—two males and close friends dropping a text in a group chat, saying that the two of them wanted to name their friend, also a male and NGSL member, to be the Gold Team captain. To no fault of the board, not knowing my backstory or anything about last year’s team, they shrugged and said, sure. The irony is this: I was led to believe a decision was made in accordance with principles of fairness, impartiality, and equity, when in reality, the process was adorned with all the trappings of a boys’ club, operating even deeper inside the very black box the organization claims to have abolished.
For all my aggravation with NGSL, I had forgotten that there were women in the organization, too, who had been subject to the same level of treatment that I and many others had. In my time at UVA, I have seen three head umpires and three commissioners—all six white males—hardly an accurate reflection of the student body. My emotional capacity limits my combing through history, but if I were a betting woman, I would venture to guess that these past three years are highly representative of the three years before me, and before that, and so on.
One NGSL exec said, “I think it’s unfortunate that two women more qualified than their male counterparts lost two years in a row. These were women who trained with their predecessor for [a] specific position and took on responsibilities for that position, but come election time, something didn’t quite connect with the grander NGSL audience. It seems straightforward to me that you choose the best person for the actual job, but what’s not clicking in the NGSL community? Who’s to say if it’s a popularity issue, a sexism issue, or something else, but regardless, it is an issue that perpetuates an image that NGSL does not want women in softball leadership roles.”
After not being selected for a tournament team her 1L year, Clare Hachten ’25, said, “I felt like I had a pretty good shot to make [a team] . . . I heard from someone else that I didn’t get selected for ‘political reasons.’ What those reasons were, I cannot say, but I remember being disappointed in the process because I thought it would reward the best players, and not just the people who were most well-liked by the individuals responsible for drafting teams.”
While Clare was eventually selected for a team her second year, she says she was never selected for NGSL. She says she was “not enough in the cool kids club” to get to be a part of the organization that ran softball on North Grounds.
The stories do not end with the individuals named here. I could write pages and pages about blatant sexism on the softball field. I could tell you about the time a third baseman left his post to cover home plate because we had a female catcher, despite that female catcher being wholly capable of fielding a throw. The result was that I had no one to throw to at third to pick off an egregiously poor baserunner. I could tell you how I was told, “Regina, watch out, I heard Section [redacted] has the best girls.” Or I could tell you about how a former tournament player was told to hand over the ball to a male so that he could throw it in from the outfield, despite her having a strong arm. And, for anyone who watched this year’s championship game in the tournament, the shortstop came to the opposite side of second base to catch a routine fly ball that I am confident the woman fielding second would have caught with her eyes closed. He dropped the ball.
I could tell these stories until the cows come home; my text messages are replete with them, with many of the individuals—current and former students—requesting they not be named for fear of retribution. I am not naive: deeply entrenched attitudes of misogyny will continue to cultivate more stories like these; but there are practical steps we can take to place the culture on a better path moving forward. So, I’ll end where I started: with a hope that softball at UVA Law be permitted to serve its higher purpose: a way to come together, lift one another up, and welcome with open arms anyone willing to step into the batter’s box, as the game intended.
I call on NGSL to take the following steps to promote a more inclusive culture for all women at UVA Law, and all UVA Law students who come to North Grounds looking to be a part of something bigger than themselves:
Abolish the two line-up system. Amend the rule to explicitly prohibit any one player from batting twice before all players in the line-up have had the chance to bat once. This not only reflects the way the game is played from T-Ball through the Major Leagues, but will also restore dignity to female players by ensuring she is not skipped over for a male to bat two times before she has even had the chance to step up to the plate once.
Open all softball operations to a true “unbiased and equitable” application process. This will allow all UVA Law students a fair opportunity to umpire and participate in the planning, logistics, and charitable side of the UVA Law Softball Invitational Tournament. NGSL is welcome to keep its not-so-clandestine social scene, but when it comes to softball, everyone should be given a fair shot.
To better represent the student demographics—which is majority female—mandate that a female occupy one of the two softball-centric leadership positions of Commissioner or Head Umpire, to fairly represent those of us who play softball at UVA Law and the broader law school community.
Do not presuppose the walk rule: create a culture that encourages women to step up to the plate.
Rotate the head captainship of tournament teams between males and females.
Permit the tournament teams to elect their captains.
Select tournament teams based on skill, and keep the tradition as it is supposed to be: law students only.
Facilitate opportunities for all UVA Law students to volunteer and become involved with the recipient charity of the UVA Law Softball Invitational.
Disallow shifting women in and out of positions in between innings: if a woman is in right field and a lefty comes up to bat, keep her there; let her play.
NGSL states the following on its website: “[NGSL’s] true mission goes well beyond the softball field. Softball serves as a conduit through which students build community and relationships with one another that transcend the classroom, and ultimately transcend our three years in Charlottesville. To that end, NGSL is committed to building community not only through softball, but through other events throughout the year as well.” NGSL, abide by your mission.
While I may not have had the chance to institute the changes on the field, I hope this article begins a cultural shift that is needed at UVA Law, for the good of the community to come.
Author: Regina Argenzio ’26