What could the world possibly have to teach me? I was going to be a barrister. The End! Clearly, there was much I had to learn.

I was about eight years old when I knew there was no other job for me. I fell in love with television shows such as Rumpole of the Bailey and LA Law, transfixed by the exciting storylines. My aunt and other inspiring trainee advocates, including Courtenay Griffiths KC (as he is now known), would sit around my mother’s tiny dinner table on a Sunday afternoon putting the world to rights. It was exhilarating to watch the art of debate unfold before me.

I desired to be just like them but so many tried to tell me why I couldn’t: I was from the East End; I was Black; I was female; I wasn’t from a wealthy family… my response was always to dismiss them with a lofty wave of my hand. What did they know? Even when my aunt emigrated to Jamaica, and I lost my only link to my dream career, I didn’t give up. After all, if she could do it, why couldn’t I?

Over the years, some attempted the sympathetic approach to warn me off. They would sit me down and patiently take me through the (long) list of reasons why my choice of career was not right for me. Of course it was all going to end in tears, why couldn’t I see that? Others would choose a more robust approach, drawing my attention to the disasters that lay ahead as I fought to enter a world that wouldn’t want or accept me. My failure to heed their wise words would inevitably lead to my egotistical demise.

I look back and smile now at my naivety. I can reflect and ultimately agree that much of what they attempted to warn me about was true! On my journey (and sometimes in practice) I did face racism; I was treated less favourably on the grounds of my sex; and I did spend many impecunious years living in temporary accommodation and storing my precious belongings in bin bags as I was forced to move from sofa to sofa, or if I was lucky, box room to box room. My finances were a mess and there wasn’t anyone who was able to advise me on how to budget through these challenging years.

It was during this struggling period that I learnt about the true meaning of charity. Friends would stretch their pay packets to feed their children and me, doing what they could to support my hopes and aspirations. Those friends never once asked for anything in return. Family members who lived across the country would send me food parcels and clothes. I will never forget them.

However, while the warnings were correct, I’ve learnt the approach was very wrong. What these people should have done is offer me constructive guidance to achieve my goal. For example, I now know how invaluable mentors are, that a minimum typing speed of 40wpm was a necessity and that I should try to never, ever, fall ill!

I am now lucky enough to support candidates preparing for the pupillage interview process and often post (hopefully) helpful tips on how to prepare for their interviews and even challenge them about whether this choice of career really is for them. I volunteer my support because it was so woefully lacking when I commenced my journey some 30 years ago. I have found that students are still being confronted with the same conundrums I had. For example: ‘What does networking actually mean?’; ‘How do I get my foot through the door when I purchased my shoes from Primark?’; ‘Do I need to change my accent to be accepted?’; ‘I got my degree from the OU, be honest Paula, will that mean I am looked over by the Chancery sets?’, etc ,etc.

I have learnt that while my road to success was littered with hurdles, similar problems still exist for students and junior members of the Bar today. It’s not just about the colour of your skin, how you identify, your accent, or socio-economic status. While those may well be hurdles (they don’t have to be), I now believe it’s about your ability to steadfastly dream the impossible dream, to surround yourself with people who can support you through the dark days, and to identify those who can give you realistic advice about your available options.

Learning that my path did not have to mirror the traditional route to the Bar took me far too long to grasp. It was a freeing moment when I eventually cottoned on to the fact that being me was enough, that my success was grounded in ‘The Three Ps’ (preparation, preparation, preparation) and nothing else. It was never about what I looked like, sounded like, or whether I could afford to purchase Kurt Geiger shoes. This is just one of the messages I try to convey to those I am lucky enough to support, along with: ‘… regardless, this job was worth every single hurdle I encountered!’

As a self-employed barrister, the journey never really ends. There are people throughout my career who have swooped in and truly changed the downward trajectory of my life at a time when I thought I really had reached The End! While I can’t name everyone I would love to thank, of note is Paul Goulding KC, a truly gracious individual who taught me that my voice did matter, and that people would listen, regardless of my background or what I looked like. This was incredibly empowering for a small girl from Kingston Jamaica, lovingly adopted by the East End.

This lesson in confidence and finding my voice has allowed me to grow, not only at the Bar, but taking me on an adventure into the world of media where I will disagree politely with respected broadcasters such as Piers Morgan and Jeremy Vine.

I have learnt to be grateful for my hurdles; they made me strong and who I am today. They are also a measure of what I was prepared to overcome so I could achieve my dream job. During quiet times I remind myself about the wonderful people I have met, the goals I have achieved, and the exciting road ahead, all because I was prepared to dream the impossible dream and acknowledge that opportunities truly can be endless.