CHSS Alumni Spotlight: Hafsa Mansoor

Hafsa Mansoor, center, holds her Young Alumni Award, while standing with Tim Keane, left, and Linda Robinson. 

Meet alumna Hafsa Mansoor, a trailblazing advocate whose journey from Webster University to a career in civil and human rights law is nothing short of inspiring.

Throughout her career, Mansoor has remained steadfast in her commitment to justice, challenging systemic inequities and co-authoring critical reports on pressing human rights issues. In her time at Webster, she was chosen to receive the Webster University Young Alumni Award. Mansoor is currently an Associate at Emery Celli Brinckerhoff Abady Ward & Maazel LLP where they handle various civil rights matters.   

Q: Can you share what you’ve been up to since graduation?

A: “I graduated from Webster in 2017 with a double major in International Human Rights and Political Science (Emphasis in Public Policy) and then went to Seton Hall University School of Law in Newark, New Jersey. While in law school, I interned for the New Jersey Institute for Social Justice and for the Honorable Esther Salas in the United States District Court for the District of New Jersey; served as Senior Articles Editor of the Seton Hall Law Review and authored two published law review articles; co-founded First Gen JD, an online resource guide for first-generation law students; and was a Center for Social Justice Scholar and Postgraduate Fellow for Detained Immigrant Defense at the Seton Hall Law Immigrants’ Rights/International Human Rights Clinic, where I represented detained immigrants in removal proceedings and co-authored a report on the impact of immigration bond practices on the surge of COVID-19 infections in ICE detention facilities. I graduated in 2020 as valedictorian of my law school class and with several awards and honors.  

After the bar exam, I spent about two and a half years as a litigation associate in the New York office of White & Case LLP, a large international law firm, where I represented corporate and individual commercial clients in every stage of disputes, both in and out of court, and maintained a large pro bono practice focused on actualizing civil and human rights and advancing criminal legal system reform. As part of that practice, I represented a class of impoverished debtors suing the City of Ferguson, Missouri, for its unconstitutional wealth-based detention practices and maintenance of a de facto debtors’ prison; petitioned for resentencing under New York’s Domestic Violence Survivors Justice Act; and served as outside counsel to multiple public interest organizations looking to reform the criminal system, including by reviewing draft good time credit legislation and submitting a petition before the Inter-American Commission of Human Rights on felony disenfranchisement.

From 2023 to 2024, I clerked for the Honorable Edgardo Ramos of the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York (for the non-lawyers, law clerks work directly with judges in their chambers, supporting the judge in deciding cases by reviewing parties’ submissions, drafting judicial opinions, maintaining the court's docket, etc.).

In July 2024, I joined Emery Celli Brinckerhoff Abady Ward & Maazel LLP, a civil rights law firm in Midtown Manhattan. We work on a broad spectrum of civil rights issues, including wrongful death, police brutality and misconduct, wrongful convictions, sexual harassment and assault, employment and housing discrimination, and other abuses of power.”

Q: What does a typical day look like for you?

A: “I suspect this is a very unsatisfactory (but quintessentially lawyerly) answer, but – it depends. There really isn't any such thing as a typical day for lawyers. It depends so much on what stage of litigation our cases are in and what kinds of cases we're on – whether we're interviewing new potential clients, researching and drafting filings, tracking down evidence to support our cases, appearing in court, learning about new areas of the law ... my schedule really varies day-to-day.”

Q: How have your experiences shaped your perspective on justice and advocacy?

A: “Civil and human rights often overlap, but interestingly, civil rights lawyers often approach the pursuit of justice quite tactically and differently than human rights advocates (at least from a United States perspective). The common thread between the two approaches is a recognition that the law can be either the greatest tool or the greatest obstacle to social justice.
 
The difference is that lawyers tend to view the law as the primary tool in our toolbox; and while there's some room in our practice to imagine what the law should be through class actions and other cases seeking systemic reforms, the bulk of our work focuses on the law as it is. Lawyers' focus is often on actualizing the promises the law already contains on behalf of our clients as a remedy to the harms they have suffered. There's an appreciation for protest and advocacy campaigns, undoubtedly – we recognize that so many of the civil rights laws upon which our cases are based are the product of marginalized communities, and especially Black activists, marching in the streets – but that's less prototypical work for a lawyer than defending the rights of those protestors to protest. In other words, lawyers' vision of winning is in courtrooms (and the occasional legislature), more than it is hearts and minds.

Comparatively, advocates for international human rights tend to see the law as only a tool in our toolbox, and often a fairly weak one at that. It's more aspirational than actionable. We're seeing in real time how toothless international law is as we've seen the genocide in Gaza livestreamed to our phones for over a year. In practice, what that means is that human rights are usually actualized in the streets, not the courtrooms – it's protestors, it's NGOs, its journalists doing the work. Taking the Gaza genocide again as an example, while the ICC and ICJ have been lumbering slowly and delicately to the inescapable conclusion that Israel has perpetrated crimes against humanity and mass atrocities for decades against Palestinians, protestors (and particularly our brave students), journalists, aid workers, first responders and people of integrity in their individual capacities have not waited for those tribunals to put an official name on injustice before they resisted against it. In the human rights toolbox, changing and enforcing laws is of equal significance to changing the public discourse and leveraging the power of the people and the narrative.

I like to think that my familiarity with both paradigms gives me a more holistic perspective on my work and ultimately redounds to the benefit of my clients.”

Q: What drives your commitment to advocating for vulnerable populations?

A: “Speaking truth to power, standing against oppression and establishing justice are key tenets of my faith as a Muslim, and these principles are foundational to my civil and human rights advocacy work. And since I was quite young, I've always felt a keen sense of fairness (e.g., 'What do you mean, girls can't lift heavy things, watch what I can do!').  Moreover, growing up brown and Muslim in an overwhelmingly white and conservative exurb of Missouri immediately post-Sept. 11 also meant that I learned how injustice worked at the interpersonal, institutional and systemic levels firsthand (I was in elementary school the first time I got someone suspended for racism). Which is to say, I know what it means to need to fight for myself to access my rights and opportunities, and advocating for others is the natural corollary of advocating for yourself – and has become part of my purpose as a person, as a Muslim and as an attorney.”

Q: What advice would you offer to current students at Webster University who are considering a career in human rights/law?

A: “I don't think there's any one-size-fits-all guidance; students reach out to me not infrequently for advice, and I almost invariably ask them to share their journeys before I say anything so I can tailor what I say to their situations. But to try to offer something here, I'd say there are three core principles to my usual spiel, which I generally emphasize in different ratios depending on who I'm speaking to.  

"The first principle is from Archbishop Demond Tutu: "If you are neutral in situations of injustice, then you have chosen the side of the oppressor." When you are advocating from a place of privilege, a big piece of that privilege is the luxury to tap out – to decide that you don't want to fight that fight today. People experiencing that injustice, though don't have the choice not to play life on hard mode every day; there's no chance to say 'I'm not feeling it today, I'm going to opt out from thinking about this for now.' For those folks, it's not an academic or intellectual exercise to resist; it is a visceral fight for our lives. So particularly as we confront the increasingly acute, existential threats to vulnerable populations in the next four years, keeping this principle front of mind is key because a lot of non-affected communities have suggested recently that they're too drained to protest/litigate/resist this time around. But the thing is, there's no such thing as an innocent bystander – you're either on the side of the oppressor or the oppressed.  

The second principle is from Audre Lorde: 'Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.' This one is targeted more for people who are also experiencing the injustices they are fighting against. This justice work is already hard enough before you factor in having to live it every day without reprieve. There are a lot of adages here that feel trite but are true – you can't pour from an empty cup, your existence is resistance, etc. So yes, the work matters, but so do you. Thinking again of what the next four years will bring, it's important to also remember that the work doesn't start on Jan. 20; for so many of us, we have been fighting for our lives our whole lives. So it is OK to take time to rest and recover and breathe before we get back up again – indeed, it is necessary to do so. And before I move onto the third principle, I want to note that the first two aren't binaries, they're spectrums – we all act as allies to some communities with respect to some issues and need to lean into the first principle, while simultaneously being members of impacted communities with respect to other issues, in which case I advise we lean into the second. It's a balance.

The third principle is an Islamic hadith (maxim) that even if the final hour were upon you – even if the world is ending – and you had a seed in your hand, plant it. Which is to say, we do the work because it is the right thing to do, and we do it regardless whether we will see the results, regardless whether it's easy or convenient, and regardless whether we get public credit for it. And every little bit matters; we don't belittle any contribution we can make, even if that contribution is seemingly small. If justice work can be our full-time career, that's great; but if our circumstances make it such that our contribution can only be consciousness-raising or donations or the occasional volunteering/pro bono right now, there is room in the movement for everyone and every contribution. 

And the last thing I would say to students is – I'm proud of you. I am proud of you for wanting to undertake this work, and I am looking forward to standing next to you and working with you. If I can be of use to you in your journey, please do not hesitate to reach out.”

With experience culminating through studies, practice and expertise, Mansoor’s story and ideals stand as a testament to a holistic approach to civil rights law. As she shares her wisdom with the next generation of advocates, her message is clear: justice work is not only a career but a calling; one that requires courage, balance and a steadfast dedication to doing what is right.