[Northeastern] had a reputation as being the progressive political law school where people went not because they wanted to be on law review and get a big job at a firm but to do good work.””

— Kevin Cathcart ’82

In the 1960s, few jobs were available for attorneys wanting to ply their trade for the public good. A decade on, however, things were very different. “Suddenly, there were environmental defense funds; there were civil rights organizations other than the ACLU and the Legal Defense Fund. Beginning in the ’70s, there were LGBTQ-type opportunities,” says Professor Emeritus Michael Meltsner, who served as dean of Northeastern Law from 1979 to 1984. “There was something in the air that attracted people who wanted to do impactful work of a progressive sort that had not been available before.”

Serendipitously, in 1968, Northeastern University reopened its law school. With its progressive faculty, co-op program and policies that fostered student camaraderie, Northeastern Law exuded a vibe that appealed to nontraditional students. People like Cathcart gravitated toward the school because, he says, “it had a reputation as being the progressive political law school where people went not because they wanted to be on law review and get a big job at a firm but to do good work.”

Northeastern professors and students engaged in both what the law is and has been and also whether the law is just and how we can work with others to make it just.”

— Mary Bonauto ’87

As young law students active in the emerging gay rights movement, Burns, Cathcart and Vaid became fast friends. “The three of us, we went to law school in the daytime, and then after class we would do our gay liberation work,” Burns recalls. “And we brought that to the law school.” They got the small lesbian and gay student caucus to purchase for every faculty member a one-year subscription to Gay Community News, an influential weekly where Burns had worked as managing editor, and they made appointments with professors to urge them to incorporate gay issues into their courses. “The faculty was very friendly to us,” Burns says. “I don’t think there was any change in the curriculum at all, but they would listen to us.” Soon, the quest for an inclusive educational program moved into the classroom. When her criminal law professor devoted a lesson to “homosexuality as a victimless crime,” Elyse Cherry ’83 had had enough. “I was tired of being a crime. Being homosexual, being gay, being lesbian was not a crime, and I wasn’t really happy about his describing it that way,” says Cherry, who is now CEO of BlueHub Capital. She challenged the professor, and he invited her to teach the subject herself. So she, Burns, Cathcart, Vaid and a couple of other students went off, did some research, came back and taught a class. Before long, students in courses like contracts and family law were making class presentations through the perspective of gay and lesbian life.

Vaid became aware that students could run for election to serve on the law school admissions committee and saw it as an opportunity to bring more gay and lesbian students to Northeastern Law. She and Cathcart ran unopposed. The gambit worked. There were considerably more lesbian and gay students in the class of 1984 than in previous classes.

“My class had a very large number of LGBT students but not necessarily people who have devoted their careers to that focus,” says Deborah Filler ’84, senior attorney at Greater Boston Legal Services, where for 39 years she has practiced poverty law. Susan Goldfischer ’84, interim general counsel for the Massachusetts Division of Capital Asset Management and Maintenance, recently became aware of Cathcart and Vaid’s admissions strategy and says now, “I probably got admitted in large part because my résumé said I was president of the Feminist Alliance at the University of Albany.” Goldfischer, Barbara Macy ’84 and several others formed an all-lesbian study group. There were, in fact, enough gay and lesbian students to band together and create an elective class in gay and lesbian legal studies with faculty oversight. As their numbers grew, something shifted at Northeastern Law: gay and lesbian students were entering as individuals and graduating as a community. The bonds they formed in law school propelled their careers, their activism and the very movement itself.

The three of us, we went to law school in the daytime, and then after class we would do our gay liberation work. And we brought that to the school.”

— Richard Burns ’83

Northeastern Law offered its first faculty-taught course on gay rights. Faculty adjusted their syllabi. Professor Karl Klare, who joined the faculty full time in 1977, started covering the constitutional rights of public employees in his labor law class so he could teach about the rights of gay men and lesbians in the military.

“The atmosphere was charged by the brave acts of brave people who came out, who brought cases, who told their stories at great personal and emotional risk,” Klare says. “At Northeastern, we were saying, ‘This is wonderful, this is inspiring, but it also has to do with who you are as law students. We’re going to connect these exciting, inspiring developments to the routine of what lawyers do.’”

I knew that studying law was going to be difficult because you’re really studying and learning all of the ways the law is used to exclude or criminalize people like me as a Black woman and a lesbian. I wanted to use the law to figure out how to change the status quo.””

— Katherine Grainger ’02

As the new century dawned and people like Cathcart, Bonauto, Burns, Vaid and scores of others grew in prominence, many applicants sought out Northeastern Law because of its LGBTQ+ legal cred. Katherine Grainger ’02, managing partner at Civitas Public Affairs, remembers visiting the school as an admitted student and seeing a welcome banner proclaiming it to be the queerest law school in the country. That sealed the deal. “I knew that studying law was going to be difficult because you’re really studying and learning all of the ways the law is used to exclude or criminalize people like me as a Black woman and a lesbian. I felt, seeing that sign, that Northeastern was the type of place that would go on that journey with me,” Grainger says.

Some graduates have chosen to make Northeastern itself their home base. Professor Libby Adler ’94 teaches courses on sexuality and gender and is the author of Gay Priori: A Queer Critical Legal Studies Approach to Law Reform. In 2023 she received the LGBTQ+ Individual Inclusive Excellence Award from the Association of American Law Schools Section on Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity Issues; the law school received the institutional version of the same award in 2022.

As the new century dawned and people like Cathcart, Bonauto, Burns, Vaid and scores of others grew in prominence, many applicants sought out Northeastern Law because of its LGBTQ+ legal cred. Katherine Grainger ’02, managing partner at Civitas Public Affairs, remembers visiting the school as an admitted student and seeing a welcome banner proclaiming it to be the queerest law school in the country. That sealed the deal. “I knew that studying law was going to be difficult because you’re really studying and learning all of the ways the law is used to exclude or criminalize people like me as a Black woman and a lesbian. I felt, seeing that sign, that Northeastern was the type of place that would go on that journey with me,” Grainger says.

Some graduates have chosen to make Northeastern itself their home base. Professor Libby Adler ’94 teaches courses on sexuality and gender and is the author of Gay Priori: A Queer Critical Legal Studies Approach to Law Reform. In 2023 she received the LGBTQ+ Individual Inclusive Excellence Award from the Association of American Law Schools Section on Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity Issues; the law school received the institutional version of the same award in 2022.

When Chase Strangio came out as trans during law school, he says, “I was grappling with the ways in which the LGB movement had left trans people at the periphery and imagining what we could do to engage a more robust trans justice project.” Now, he says, “I’m 42, and I want young people to push me because they’re living under different conditions than I did.”

And they are, indeed, pushing. Aware of the unmet legal needs of LGBTQ+ people and the vicious legal backlash trending across the country, Sara McKenna ’25 and Anthony Black ’25 say that the student Queer Caucus is lobbying the school for an LGBTQ+ legal clinic. “The school is very supportive of launching a clinic, but it’s an expensive undertaking,” says Director of Development and Alumni/ae Relations Lindsey Sadonis. “We are actively engaged in conversations with potential donors, and we are hoping more graduates will step forward to help support this great opportunity.”

Meanwhile, Northeastern Law’s LGBTQ+ legal leaders continue blazing trails. In December 2024, in a constitutional challenge to bans on gender-affirming care, Strangio became the first openly trans lawyer to argue before the Supreme Court. A delegation from the Queer Caucus, with funding from the law school administration and donors, was there to witness the moment.

When Chase Strangio came out as trans during law school, he says, “I was grappling with the ways in which the LGB movement had left trans people at the periphery and imagining what we could do to engage a more robust trans justice project.” Now, he says, “I’m 42, and I want young people to push me because they’re living under different conditions than I did.”

And they are, indeed, pushing. Aware of the unmet legal needs of LGBTQ+ people and the vicious legal backlash trending across the country, Sara McKenna ’25 and Anthony Black ’25 say that the student Queer Caucus is lobbying the school for an LGBTQ+ legal clinic. “The school is very supportive of launching a clinic, but it’s an expensive undertaking,” says Director of Development and Alumni/ae Relations Lindsey Sadonis. “We are actively engaged in conversations with potential donors, and we are hoping more graduates will step forward to help support this great opportunity.”

Meanwhile, Northeastern Law’s LGBTQ+ legal leaders continue blazing trails. In December 2024, in a constitutional challenge to bans on gender-affirming care, Strangio became the first openly trans lawyer to argue before the Supreme Court. A delegation from the Queer Caucus, with funding from the law school administration and donors, was there to witness the moment.