For most of English legal history, women were not just pushed to the side of the legal scene, they were written out of the script entirely. For ethnic minority women specifically, the barriers were even higher, shaped by racism, colonialism, and class. Yet despite these limits, many have created a space for themselves in a system that was never intended to include them. The stories of these women reveal how the law has slowly, untimely and unevenly begun to open its doors to those it once excluded.
Despite the inability of women of colour to even practice law in England, they were still subjected to living under it. During the 18th and 19th centuries, Britain’s legal system governed millions of women across the empire, from the Caribbean to India to West Africa. These women were subject to English laws but had no voice in shaping them. These enslaved and colonised women were treated as property, denied a legal voice, and excluded from even education, let alone professional careers. Even after slavery was abolished and colonial subjects were declared British citizens, racialised women faced structural barriers. This included segregated schooling, limited access to universities, and social norms that insisted law was a white, male profession.
The Sex Disqualification (Removal) Act of 1919 finally allowed women to become lawyers in England. However,  “women” in this context mostly meant white, middle‑class women with the resources to attend university. Ethnic minority women were still forced to fight twice as hard. One of the earliest significant figures was Stella Thomas, a Nigerian‑Sierra Leonean woman who became the first Black woman called to the English Bar in 1933. She trained at Middle Temple at a time when both her gender and her race made her an anomaly in legal spaces. After qualifying, she returned to West Africa, where she became a pioneering magistrate. Another early figure was Cornelia Sorabji, born in India and educated at Oxford. Although she completed her law exams in the 1890s, she wasn’t allowed to practise in England until after 1919. Sorabji spent her career advocating for women in purdah, women who were legally vulnerable because they could not appear in public courts. These women weren’t just firsts, they were reminders that talent existed far beyond the narrow stereotypical demographic the legal profession has only historically represented.
After World War Two, waves of migration from the Caribbean, South Asia, and Africa reshaped British society. Ethnic minority women entered universities in greater numbers, but the legal profession remained stubbornly exclusive. Many faced women faced racial discrimination in hiring and pupillage, cultural expectations that discouraged women from pursuing demanding careers and financial barriers to training and qualification. Yet, progress still continued and by the 1970s and 80s, more ethnic minority women were qualifying as solicitors and barristers, though they remained underrepresented in senior roles.
Today, ethnic minority women have become increasingly visible in English law, though the journey is far from complete. Figures like Baroness Patricia Scotland, the first Black woman appointed Attorney General for England and Wales, and Lady Justice Andrews, one of the few women of colour in the senior judiciary, show how far things have come. However, statistics still reveal gaps in pay, promotion, and retention. Ethnic minority women are more likely to enter the profession but less likely to reach partnership or judicial appointment.
So, why is this so important?
Understanding the experiences of ethnic women in English law isn’t just about celebrating milestones. It’s about recognising the resilience required to break into a profession that has excluded many women for centuries. The stories of ethnic women challenge the myth that the law is neutral and is incredibly important to remind us that representation does not happen by accident, it happens because of rejection of the limits placed on minorities.