Judge Darleen Ortega
September 15th to October 15th is Hispanic Heritage Month! During this time, we celebrate Hispanic Americans and Latin American countries’ independence days – at least 7 Latin American countries celebrate independence in late September. This year, we talked to Judge Darleen Ortega – the first and only Latina appellate judge in Oregon. She was also the first woman of color appointed to an Oregon appellate court.
For Judge Ortega, stories are the key to empathy, resilience, and creating an equitable, inclusive world.
“I read everything I could get my hands on,” said Judge Ortega, remembering her childhood. Her experiences taught her “how powerful and impactful story writing could be.” Born in Los Angeles to a Mexican American mother and a Caucasian father, Ortega moved to Banks, Oregon when she was 10. “In all honesty, I came from a pretty troubled family,” she reflected. Her parents did not support her interest in college or law school. Despite this, Ortega graduated high school as a valedictorian, and she studied writing and literature at George Fox College.
After college, Ortega decided to attend law school at the University of Michigan. She had what she describes as a “justice streak.” Public law interested her, as did juvenile dependency. She planned to “pick up a law degree on the way to saving the world.”
Unfortunately, “saving the world doesn’t pay well,” laughs Ortega. After her graduation in 1989, Ortega turned to private practice. It wasn’t a good fit, but she learned to “be curious” and “when to question, when to challenge” others’ perspectives – something that serves her today as a judge. She describes how there were a “lot of moments where people would ask the opinion of junior associates.” As one of those junior associates, Ortega often pointed out ways she felt the work didn’t accomplish the stated goal. It took time for Ortega to realize that they “were not waiting for a young Latina to point out their inconsistencies,” and to learn when and how to push back.
The experience also taught Ortega to treat others – even those who disagree with her – with empathy. “Be curious. There are more or less decent people around,” she argues. To create change we need to understand why others “are operating the way they are” and to ask “what story are they telling themselves?”
She put those lessons to use. While in private practice, Ortega began mentoring programs for women at her firm, participated in Oregon Women Lawyers, and led diversity efforts at the Oregon State Bar.
Around this time, Ortega changed her name. Throughout her time in private practice, she had used her married name, Darnall. But she and her husband had divorced, so she “didn’t feel attached to it.” At the same time, she didn’t want to use her maiden name since her relationship with her family was “fraught.” Her maternal grandfather suggested she use his last name, Ortega. The name Ortega “felt really right.”
It also changed how others saw her. Before she changed her name, when she stood up for Latinas, people would question her perspective. Darnall didn’t match their idea of a Hispanic name. After she changed her name, people argued with her less. Ortega laughs, “I was the same amount of Mexican American the whole time.”
In 2003, when Governor Ted Kulongoski appointed Ortega to the Court of Appeals, she only received one phone call from a reporter about her historic appointment. He wanted to know why she had changed her name. There was a rumor that she had changed her name in the hopes of being appointed to the court.
Despite this rough introduction, Ortega remembers being “so excited,” because she could actually “have an impact.” The reality was more complicated. Ortega reflects that creating change often requires “tak[ing] the long view.” For example, Ortega has written extensively on juvenile dependency, because she came from a violent home. Much of her work is attempting to “impact the questions we ask” in those cases. For example, why do we intervene only with poor families when abuse and neglect occurs with families at all economic levels? And how well-informed are our interventions?
“The spaces where big decisions get made are very separated from those who suffer most,” reflects Ortega. Furthermore, individuals within those spaces often practice what Ortega calls “learned helplessness.” Learned helplessness is the idea that an organization can’t or shouldn’t change how it operates. Even members of marginalized communities who attain positions of influence can fall into this way of thinking, in part because they face so many challenges in being accepted inside existing structures that, as Ortega puts it, they “don’t develop the skills to challenge existing structures themselves.”
To help young lawyers and law students develop the skills they need to challenge the dominant paradigms, Ortega mentors extensively and teaches at all 3 of Oregon’s law schools. Ortega wants to help her mentees and students “develop their voice” and “take themselves seriously.” Their life experiences are unique and raise interesting questions, and she seeks to create a space where they are validated.
Judge Ortega standing with a former law clerk, Patricia Rincon.
Ortega also mentors, because of her struggles navigating law alone. Those struggles could have been “wholly prevented if someone helped me out.” And she succeeds. As Ortega’s first clerk put it, speaking to The Oregonian, “There's no instruction manual for succeeding as a minority woman. That's why I identify with her.”
The work exhausts Ortega at times, but she copes by “keep[ing] connected to stories of marginalized people.” She reminds herself that many people of color are in danger and remembers her own privileges. As Ortega puts it, “it keeps my struggles in perspective.” It also helps her keep going, and stokes what she describes as a necessary sense of urgency. Change needs to happen, because people are suffering now.
One way she stays connected is through the arts – although COVID-19 has made this more difficult, since festivals are canceled, and theaters are closed. For Ortega, movies are “moments of empathy” – a chance to explore a different perspective without living it.
Movies and the arts also help Ortega in the courtroom. When reviewing cases, Ortega says, “I get curious about the stories of the case” and ask, “why are we here?” Her love for the arts helps her dive deeper into the motivations behind the case.
Asked what movies she’s enjoyed recently, Ortega recommended Beyond the Visible: Hilma Af Klint. The documentary describes the art and impact of an abstract artist – Hilma af Klint – who was not recognized in her lifetime. In many ways, it’s a story of resilience – something Ortega knows quite a bit about, and something we all need in 2020.
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