She was sixty years old.
She had spent her career
arguing for people the law
had chosen to overlook.
Then a president called.
Ruth Bader Ginsburg had been a federal appellate judge for thirteen years when the call came in 1993. She was not the first choice. She was not, by most accounts, the second. She was a sixty-year-old woman on the D.C. Circuit who had spent the previous three decades doing the kind of legal work that changes everything and impresses almost nobody at cocktail parties. She had argued six cases before the Supreme Court on behalf of gender equality and won five. She had built, brief by brief, the constitutional scaffolding that would make it illegal to treat women as a lesser category of citizen. And then she waited.
President Clinton, by his own admission, was looking for someone with "a big heart." His shortlist was full of politicians. Ginsburg was not a politician. She was a litigator who had once compared gender discrimination to a cage built so slowly the bird doesn't notice until it can't fly. She got a fifteen-minute meeting with Clinton. It lasted over an hour. He nominated her the next day.
At her confirmation hearing before the Senate Judiciary Committee, she sat for two days and answered questions with a calm so total it seemed to alter the room's oxygen levels. She declined to preview her positions on future cases, establishing what would come to be known as the "Ginsburg precedent" for judicial nominees. She was neither charming nor confrontational. She was simply precise. The committee, which had prepared for a fight, found itself disarmed by someone who treated every question as though it deserved a better version of itself.
She was confirmed 96 to 3. She served for twenty-seven years, until she was eighty-seven, writing dissents that became rallying cries and majority opinions that became law. Near the end, when asked about her legacy, she said something that was not really about the court at all. "I would like to be remembered," she said, "as someone who used whatever talent she had to do her work to the very best of her ability." She did not say it was enough. She simply said it was hers.