Barbara Grutter (from left), Patrick Hamacher and Jennifer Gratz, plaintiffs in Grutter v. Bollinger, speak to the media outside the U.S. Supreme Court in April 2003. (Photo: Stacey Cramp)

When I submitted my application to Michigan Law School many moons ago (in late 2017), I tried not to think too hard about how the school would assess my application. I took the LSAT, sent in my transcript, wrote my essays and hoped for the best. Frankly, I didn't want to know the anxiety-inducing details of how I would be judged.

I was not moved to contemplate the inner workings of the school's admissions office once I received my acceptance letter, either—until recently. With the end of my 1L year quickly approaching, I was assigned to read Grutter v. Bollinger in two courses, Constitutional Law and Sex Equality, and I was startled to find that Justices Sandra Day O'Connor, Clarence Thomas and the rest of the Supreme Court circa 2003 had some thoughts about how Michigan Law School should decide to accept or reject a given applicant.

I'll leave the analysis of the complex constitutional issues to those who have studied the case for more than a few days, but here's a quick summary: The U.S. Supreme Court upheld the admissions policy used at Michigan Law at the time, which provided for the consideration of race as one of several factors in evaluating an applicant.

O'Connor's majority opinion declared that “obtaining the educational benefits that flow from a diverse student body” was a sufficiently compelling state interest to justify the school's use of racial classification.

Naturally, reading Grutter—and hearing my professors' behind-the-scenes insight into the discussions that went on at the school during the litigation—prompted me to think about how the case applied to my classmates and me.

I should note first that, despite the court's ruling, the race-conscious admissions policy was actually not in effect when Michigan Law admitted me. In 2006, the people of Michigan voted to change the Michigan Constitution to ban the use of race and other factors in admissions at state schools, including the law school. The school's current policy retains a commitment to “diversity along many dimensions” but noticeably omits the words “race” or “ethnicity.”

That change notwithstanding, it was a strange experience to read Supreme Court justices disagree about the admissions process at Michigan Law School, while sitting in the halls of that school as a student lucky enough to be let in. At its core, Grutter was about much more than what the Constitution allows or prohibits. Underlying the opinions was an uncomfortably probing question: Who gets in to top law schools like Michigan and why?

I happened to read Grutter at roughly the same time as news broke about the indictments of Felicity Huffman, Lori Loughlin and ex-Willkie Farr & Gallagher co-chair Gordon Caplan among other wealthy parents in the undergraduate college admissions scandal, with the ensuing media frenzy highlighting how admissions are sometimes not merit-based at all.

Law schools weren't involved in that particular criminal conspiracy, of course. However, in a broader sense, privilege and wealth can shape an application to law school in much the same ways it shapes an undergraduate one: more LSAT prep, generational familiarity with the process, fewer worries about the burden of tuition, a higher likelihood of graduating from an elite undergrad, and so on. I had some of those privileges.

Recognition of those privileges (and, conversely, the systemic barriers imposed on to those who lack them) presumably played a role in the law school's use of a holistic, race-conscious admissions policy in the first place—which brings me back to the questions posed by Grutter. In his dissent, Thomas asked, “Who can differentiate between those who belong and those who do not?”

He was referring to the stigma he believed affirmative action imposed on black students who attended Michigan Law School, arguing that the policy creates a presumption that race was the “real” reason they were admitted. But I have a problem with a fundamental premise of his question, as it applies to any law student: This idea that some people definitively “belong” at a particular law school and others definitively do not. To the contrary, no single metric can make “belonging” knowable. None of us knows the “real” reason for our admission.

Nonetheless, the concept of “belonging” does seem to permeate the law school dynamic, sometimes in toxic ways. “Imposter syndrome,” a psychology term describing feelings of inadequacy and nagging doubts about the validity of your accomplishments, is brought up often in the context of law school, where everyone seems hyperqualified, the grading system is predicated on comparing you with your peers, and GPA appears to directly affect employment prospects. Every bad grade invokes fear that the admissions office made a mistake, that everyone else is exceedingly more competent.

These doubts are based in feeling, not fact. The curve forces worse grades for some than others. That's the whole point of it. Neither grades nor the LSAT nor law firm job offers can dictate “belonging.”

Thomas actually approaches this point himself in his Grutter dissent, although from a different angle. He questions why the law school insists on using the LSAT in admissions. If it did not, the school could race-neutrally admit a more diverse student body, albeit at the cost of its U.S. News ranking, he argued. Does the LSAT really predict performance in the study of law? And does a degree from a highly ranked law school predict performance in the actual practice of law?

I have no answers to those questions, sadly, as I'm a lowly 1L who has yet to actually secure a law degree, much less practice law. But 16 years after Grutter, thoughtful discussions about admissions in higher education are still worth having—whether celebrity bribery is involved or not.

Renee Griffin is a first-year student at University of Michigan Law School.