Breaking Barriers: Judge Pahoua Lor’s Path to the Bench

This article is part of Mochi’s fall 2024 issue on Resilience, redefined as “finding agency in adversity and fighting for radical change.” We highlight the strength of individuals and communities and their courage in dismantling systems of injustice. Our hope is that you will feel the strength pulsing through these stories and that you also are inspired to pair resilience with actions that lead to real, necessary, and revolutionary change.

Growing up, the Honorable Judge Pahoua Lor, California’s first female Hmong judge, straddled two cultures, creating what she describes as a “truly Hmong American experience.” At home, modesty reigned supreme. Tank tops required thick straps — if allowed at all — and bikinis were strictly forbidden. When elders visited, Lor and her sisters were expected to serve water and food, while the men sat waiting to be served, the standard in traditional Hmong hospitality.

Yet, behind closed doors, Lor’s parents pushed for progress. Unlike in many Hmong households, her brothers were assigned chores, expected to cook and clean alongside their sisters. Her parents encouraged education and college aspirations for all their children, regardless of gender.

This delicate balance between tradition and progress mirrors the larger story of the Hmong people in America. Lor’s childhood experiences were shaped by a history that began long before her birth, in the mountains of Laos.

During the Vietnam War, the Hmong found themselves caught in the crossfire. As staunch allies of the United States, they fought in the CIA’s covert “Secret War” in Laos. When the war ended and communist forces took control in 1975, the Hmong people faced severe persecution. Thousands fled, many ending up in refugee camps in Thailand before being resettled in countries like the United States.

Hmong immigrants arrived with little more than their cultural heritage and a hope for a better future. Families like Lor’s found themselves navigating a new world, balancing the preservation of their rich traditions with the demands of assimilation and the American Dream.

For young Hmong Americans like Lor, this meant growing up with one foot in each world — honoring their parents’ sacrifices and cultural values while forging their own paths in a new land. It was within this context that the future judge would begin her journey from a traditional Hmong household to the California judicial bench, embodying both the preservation of heritage and the realization of new possibilities for her community.

Overcoming Adversity as a Hmong American

On her 13th birthday, as the last notes of “Happy Birthday” faded away, Lor’s world shattered. The phone rang, bringing news that her uncle had been shot and killed.

“I got to witness for the first time, the trauma on my grandparents’ faces and on my mom and siblings’ faces,” Lor recalls. “It was the realization, years later, that they had given up so much to come to this country. It was so much more than just losing a family member. It was like the realization that there was going to be more struggle, and it was a kind of struggle that they weren’t used to.”

However, life had another unexpected twist in store. Just as Lor was on the cusp of embarking on her law school journey and pursuing her legal dreams, she found herself facing a profound personal challenge: an unplanned pregnancy.

“I think that was probably the most difficult challenge for me,” Lor reflects. “Having to learn how to navigate in my new world, where I wasn’t a single person going through school. But now I was this unwed mother having to navigate my Hmong community and mainstream, and still continue.”

As Lor faced the daunting reality of single motherhood while pursuing her education, the weight of cultural expectations and societal judgments threatened to crush her dreams. The whispers of doubt, both from within the Hmong community and her own mind, grew louder with each passing day.

“I certainly felt like the community was judging me,” Lor says. “I didn’t have a husband. I had my daughter. I was not married. I was not even in a relationship. And then I was going to school trying to be an attorney.”

From Refugee Roots to Robes

Balancing the demands of rigorous legal studies with the responsibilities of single motherhood, Lor pushed forward alongside the support of her family.

“When I was going through law school, you know, I’m going every single day, and I’m thinking, when is this going to stop? When am I going to be done with school?” Lor notes. “But you keep going every day, and looking back, those were some of the best memories I ever had.”

After successfully navigating the bar exam, Lor embarked on her legal career, driven by a desire to make a difference in her community. Her motivation stemmed from an understanding of the struggles faced by Hmong Americans in the legal system. Language barriers, cultural misunderstandings, and a general lack of familiarity with American legal processes often left many Hmong individuals at a disadvantage in courtrooms across the country.

The idea of becoming a judge, however, wasn’t always at the forefront of Lor’s mind. “My entire career, I knew I wanted to be an attorney, but not once did I sit there and say, I want to be a judge,” she admits. It wasn’t until a fellow judge approached her, recognizing her potential, that Lor began to consider the possibility.

After careful consideration and encouragement from mentors, Lor decided to embark on the rigorous process of becoming a judge. The process is extensive and can take years. It involves a thorough background check, surveys sent to the legal community, and multiple interviews. 

Lor describes, “They interview you at what’s called a Jenny interview, and it’s in front of three commissioners. … And then, after that, if you’re fortunate enough, you go on to a governor’s interview with the appointment secretary, and then you wait for the phone call.”

Cultural Threads in the Fabric of Justice

The early morning call that changed Lor’s life came as she was driving to Walmart: “I’m coming back from the grocery store, and I see this 916 number pop up on my phone.” 

It was the appointment secretary, calling to inform her that California Governor Gavin Newsom had appointed her to the Fresno County Superior Court. 

“Resilience means pushing aside all of the self-doubt,” Lor explains. “When people are speaking to you, and if you feel like they don’t believe in you, to push that aside.” This mindset has been crucial in her journey and now informs her approach to the bench, where she strives to make the legal process more accessible and understandable for all.

Lor sees her position as an opportunity to inspire and mentor others, particularly young Hmong Americans and aspiring legal professionals. “I want them to come in and see that it is attainable,” she says, “that there’s somebody on the bench that reflects them, their experiences.” She actively encourages youth to visit her in court, aiming to demystify the legal process and show that a career in law is within reach for those from any background.

The Fresno County judge identifies one of the biggest challenges in the legal system today is the need to better explain legal processes to those unfamiliar with them. “We need to try harder to explain the process to people who don’t have the legal background, or who may not be educated,” she asserts. She’s dedicated to adapting her communication style to ensure that everyone who enters her courtroom, regardless of their educational background, can understand the proceedings.

Perhaps one of the most poignant illustrations of Lor’s impact comes from a moment she shared with the Hmong elders. She recalls a pivotal experience at a family gathering: “It was actually my husband’s family that asked me to sit at the table. I remember pausing, and I remember thinking like this has never happened before. In all these years. No one has ever asked a woman to sit at the table.”

This moment symbolizes not just personal achievement, but a shift in cultural dynamics. Lor reflects, “I never asked for a seat at the table. I just stayed true and consistent to myself, just made sure that I continue to be educated, continue to work towards my goal.”

As Pahoua Lor continues her work on the bench, this moment serves as a powerful reminder of how far she’s come and the doors she’s opening for future generations.

Cover: Zachary Caraway / Pexels

Images: courtesy of Pahoua Lor