It started on 18 December 2014, when I stepped onto the streets of Sandton, which were bustling with busy corporate employees attending to the year-end rush.
Standing in all of its glory, there I was, a 19-year-old law student experiencing Sandton for the very first time. Carrying the hope of a future that was in the hands of an interviewer from one of the big five law firms that I was about to meet.
More than my hand-me-down suit, and regardless of the arena I had now entered, I remained clothed in the circumstances that I had temporarily left behind. And these would inform my performance in this world. It was these circumstances that whispered to me that I did not belong there.
I was very uncertain. I was timid. I was lacking in confidence. And the input of my background was rearing its head in a different environment.
From that day, and for many days thereafter, the anthem of my assessments rang along the same tune: ‘She needs to break out of her shell.’
My shell consisted of numerous layers.
It consisted of youth in a very serious environment.
I was assigned to a large law firm at the age of 19. Set to commence articles at the age of 21. The big firms generally catered to a particular market. They deal with substantial transactions with far-reaching implications.
With age comes experience, of which I had none. Coupled with youth was a sense of naivety that was exacerbated by the unfamiliarity of the environment. I was the very definition of wet behind the ears.
In boardrooms filled with grey hairs, eloquence, wisdom, and experience, I was draped in insecurity. I was hyper-focused on everything that made me feel less than.
It naturally takes consistent effort to feel like you belong. To find your place at the proverbial table, and to reconcile the mind with the fact that you absolutely earned that place. Many call it imposter syndrome, and I was not any different.
Notwithstanding the fact that I had spent four years at the University of Pretoria, being finely grilled in the letter of the law, nothing could have prepared me for the cognitive dissonance that I would face in the corporate world.
In order to break out of my shell, I not only had to embrace my circumstances, but I had to harness them. I had to create and take up space at the table in my youth.
With this in mind, I made the crucial decision to use the formative years of my career as a candidate attorney and an associate to learn as much as I could from my principals. I adopted a teachable spirit, and I honed my technical and legal skills to make sure I provided sound and practical legal advice to clients.
I became keenly aware that cultivating my technical abilities would allow me to approach the work with a sense of confidence. I learnt how to interact with clients in a professional and self-assured manner.
In pursuit of practical legal knowledge, I attended GLR’s conveyancing course, and I sat for the conveyancing exam thereafter. This led me to become the youngest black female to be admitted as a conveyancer in South Africa at the age of 23, which opened new avenues leading to a seat at the table.
The beauty of youth is that I had a roadmap of those who had walked the path before me.
I allowed my shell to absorb the knowledge and experiences of my forerunners.
With growth came confidence. And with confidence, security in myself.
Within a period of five years thereafter, I went from an associate to a senior associate and then director at the age of 28.
This was not a consequence of losing my identity. Rather, embracing my identity and infusing it with the tools afforded to me.
It was also not because I was better than anybody else. It was because of piercing, painful, consistent, hard work.
Remember these three things:
- You belong in every room your work brings you into. Not because of your background. Not because of who you know. But because of the quality of your mind and the integrity of your preparation.
- Self-belief is a professional necessity, not a personal trait. You build it in the same way you build your legal skills: through practice, repetition, and choosing courage one small moment at a time.
- The fight for justice begins inside you long before you enter a courtroom. If you cannot believe in your own reasoning, how can you ask the world to?
About the author
Nomlayo Mabhena-Mlilo is a Director in Cliffe Dekker Hofmeyr’s Dispute Resolution practice and Gawie le Roux Institute of Law alumna.
Last updated on 16 March 2026.