Can the Law Know Me?

Recently, I’ve been watching Extraordinary Attorney Woo, which, if you are unfamiliar with it, is a Korean show about an autistic attorney navigating life, career, and love in an ableist world. The most recent episode I’ve seen, entitled “Holding Hands Can Wait,” is a particularly compelling look into how, for those of us who lie on the margins, the law’s imposition of authority denies us the authority that we hold to our selfs.

The episode centers around a court case involving accusations of sexual assault of a mentally disabled woman, with Attorney Woo Young Woo, the main character, ironically taking on defense of the accused. In her first official meeting with the accused, he gives a passionate self-defense, arguing that the two were madly in love, using pet names and invented slang shared between the two of them. He argues that the accusations are a lie―the two were in love.

Shown evidence in the form of texts that the two clearly shared intense affection for one another, the prosecution offers up a simple argument: the victim cannot consent. In fact, the prosecution argues, the victim cannot even know the difference between sex and sexual assault.

In isolation, this clash seems more psychiatric than legal, an argument of ability and love more than of violence or force. But dig a little deeper, and we shall see more.

Just Another Gigolo

After the prosecution argues Hye-Yeong, the victim, does not actually have the capacity to consent, Attorney Woo steps out of the courtroom, and Hye-Yeong quickly runs over. She tells her nothing more than, “I’m alone at BA” before her mother yells at for talking to Attorney Woo, and spanks her for it. Before having a moment to contemplate these words, however, Attorney Woo’s coworker comes over and tells her that apparently, the defendant previously had a disabled girlfriend who he got to pay for all their date meals. It was settled out of court by paying back the debt, which is why they hadn’t heard of it.

This angers Attorney Woo. She trusted the defendant, only to find out he was keeping the truth from her, and believes he truly was just using her, just like he used both the victim and his past girlfriend. She tells him she’ll resign the case.

That evening, Attorney Woo and her boyfriend, who is not disabled, head out for a walk. On it, they greet some of her boyfriend’s old friends. They tell him its so kind of him to be giving back, doing charity work. Confused, he tells them that he’s on a date, and introduces them to Attorney Woo. Attorney Woo enthusiastically introduces herself to them,¹ but his friends seem more embarrassed than anything else.

In this moment, however, Attorney Woo spotted the writing on the “friends’” coffee cups, and realized what Hye-Yeong meant by “BA”: “Barista Academy.” She ran off to find Hye-Yeong and speak to her as she wanted.

But Whose Gigolo?

Attorney Woo and her boyfriend barely caught the victim leaving Barista Academy. But when they did, she explained that she did not want the defendant to go to jail. Beacuse she loved him.

Ultimately, Hye-Yeong decides to testify. She decides to declare her agency in court and make it clear that she does not believe herself to be a victim. That she does not believe the defendant should go to jail. While she does not expressly state it in court, it’s clear that she believes the only manipulation that went on was her mother pressuring her to file a police report despite her wishes.

After she testifies, her mother confronts Attorney Woo. She tells her that she is a terrible person for convincing Hye-Yeong to testify, and justifies her own actions as protecting her child as a mother. She says that Attorney Woo has no idea what Hye-Yeong’s capabilities are like, because she is only autistic, nothing like her daughter’s disability. Despite Attorney Woo’s coworker’s pleas to yell at her and not Woo, she continues until Attorney Woo borders on a meltdown.

Does Attorney Woo know what is going on in Hye-Yeong’s mind, what she’s capable of understanding, of knowing, of reasoning? Does she, as an autistic person, know exactly what the nature of Hye-Yeong’s condition is, or what her abilities are? Of course not. But as an autistic person, she knows firsthand what it’s like to have everyone around you tell you what you can or cannot do, tell you what is going on inside your brain, tell you that you’re just a charity case or just being manipulated. She knows what it’s like to have your parent decide what’s best for you despite your wishes, as her father did. And she knows what it’s like to love someone society says cannot love you.

At no point does Attorney Woo tell Hye-Yeong what she is capable of―only that she must decide that for herself. At no point does she tell Hye-Yeong what is right or wrong, or what she should or should not do. Only that she must have the right to decide that on her own. And at no point does she suggest that she and Hye-Yeong are the same. Only that Hye-Yeong knows her abilities, not her mother, and not the court system.

Unfortunately for Hye-Yeong, the court decides that she does not have that right. The judge rules that the defendant must go to jail for two years, despite Hye-Yeong’s pleas. In a devastating end to the trial, Hye-Yeong descends into sobs, and the defendant goes to prison.

May Attorney Woo Still Love?

After the case, Attorney Woo walks her boyfriend home. They stop outside his apartment, and he invites her in. She tells him she’s tired, and would rather go home. He offers to walk her home, and she tells him that would be inefficient. He laughs, and tells her dates are often inefficient, often foolish. She remarks that it doesn’t really matter if she believes she’s in love with him, because according to the court, it only matters what others think of their love. He tells her that it doesn’t matter what others think, so long as he believes they are in love.

The scene ends with the two sharing an awkward kiss, talking about how to improve, and sharing a better, still awkward kiss. Despite how the court interprets their love, they will love. It highlights a painfully recurring theme in many marginalized peoples’ lives. Does the law know us?

When discussing the North American Graves Repatriation and Protection Act in my Intro to Archaeology class, I argued that the many issues that have arisen in court over this are not anomalous, but rather, an inherent and unavoidable part of the law as an institution. “The court must decide authoritatively on the case, even if it does not actually have the functional authority to do so.” Does the judge have the authority to decide if Hye-Yeong’s love is authentic or just a product of manipulation? What about of Attorney Woo’s? May Attorney Woo, or Hye-Yeong, or any autistic person―especially any autistic woman―love freely outside manipulation? Truly, as this episode shows, the court does not have the authority to say so. And yet it must act with that authority, regardless of the consequences.

A recurring theme in many marginalized peoples’ lives, certainly mine, is the knowledge and authority of the law. The law must act with authority, and yet it has none. It must proclaim its validity, and yet it has none. It must express its knowledge, and yet it has none. The law’s only authority comes from within itself, yet we, the marginalized, exist outside the law.

If the law’s authority comes from itself, then lives like mine, or Attorney Woo’s, are unrecognizable to it. The judge cannot rule in Hye-Yeong’s favor without truly undermining its own authority, recognizing that it does not have complete knowledge, recognizing the Hye-Yeong knows something it does not.

Yet the ending of the episode shows the joyful side of this: life outside the law. As Attorney Woo’s boyfriend says, it does not matter what the law thinks of them. Only what they think of themselves. Only what they think of their love.

This scene really spoke to me, especially Attorney Woo’s excitement. In a previous episode, when they were still just friends, Attorney Woo and her boyfriend were on a walk when one of his friend’s saw them and complimented her boyfriend on his charity. Her boyfriend of course told him that they were friends, coworkers, certainly not charity. And yet, the comment still simply destroyed Attorney Woo, who had felt happy to be making close friends. Feeling like your friend or lover is only with you out of sympathy is genuinely an awful feeling, especially for disabled people who are continuously told that loving them is too difficult, or that they aren’t able to be a good friend. So, when Attorney Woo’s boyfriend made it explicitly clear that she was not a charity case, or a sympathy date, but rather a person he is proud to say he is on a date with, I shared Attorney Woo’s excitement. ↩

Can the Law Know Me?

Just Another Gigolo

But Whose Gigolo?

May Attorney Woo Still Love?

Footnotes