STORY BY LILY CAFFREY-LEVINE
ILLUSTRATION BY EMILY YEN
Randy Paul speaks with incredible passion. It’s not as if he is delivering a speech. It’s a “matter of fact” passion. He leans over with his elbows on his knees, occasionally using his hands to emphasize his perspectives or to explain an overarching point: “People don't educate themselves… How do I have the conversation? I'll tell them, you really want to have this conversation? Do your research.” He never breaks eye contact.
Randy talks about his goals and passions, but more than most, acts on them. In 2015 he took a trip to Haiti, the country both of his parents emigrated from, with his cousins. “Me and my cousins made a pact that we would just inspire kids to be greater from our [same] circumstances,” he said. “I raised about $1,000 to go to Haiti to do an event because my uncle does basketball programs [in Haiti] every summer.”
Going back in 2018, he upgraded from the school supplies. “I created t-shirts and I raised over $5,000 in, I want to say, six weeks,” he explained. “I went over, I brought over 150 backpacks. I brought school supplies, aluminum water bottles, t-shirts, all these different things. We had a barbecue, and I fed over 1000 people.”
Randy isn’t exactly sure of the direct impact he may or may not have had in Haiti. But the way he uses his voice and passion isn’t limited to the work he has done in Haiti. His work in Haiti serves as supporting evidence to Randy’s goals of making a difference for his culture in the U.S.
He doesn’t shy away from difficult topics. “People aren’t ready to have the conversation yet. But I'm ready to have it,” he says of anything from stop-and-frisk in New York City to mass incarceration. The experience and understanding he has of social justice issues are broad, so much so that it pushed him far from pursuing them professionally. “I spent my summer at Legal Aid Society,” he said. “And I was the only black man in the entire building and that was fighting for their freedom. That's a problem.
Randy doesn’t want to be the only black lawyer in a courtroom during criminal trials; the only black lawyer in a courtroom helping those that are targeted. “[There are] certain things that I don't want to touch as a black man… I don't want to be their Jesus.”
When Randy begins to speak about “burnout,” you can see the gears start to turn. He knows it, what causes it, and his own experiences with it.
The at-the-time-BioMed major was in a classroom in Marist’s Allied Health building. He wrote down everything he had to learn for an exam on a chalkboard that was about 20 feet wide and 8 feet tall. He looked at it, filled with dread. “And I erased everything.” Leaving the idea of medical school behind, he’ll graduate in December as a psychology major—sights set high on law school.
But not criminal law. He speaks of social justice issues and all he has studied and learned with an elegance that only comes from someone dedicating everything they have to something. Consequently, he knows so much about these topics that he sees the effect it could have on him.
Football has been a “vehicle” for Randy. “It got me in doors that I never thought that I could get into,” he explains. “I love the game of football. I love it so much that I can walk away from it and still be involved with it.”
That involvement won’t be through sports law, however. He verbalizes the issues of identity foreclosure and career instability for black athletes in professional sports, but Randy Paul still doesn’t want to be anyone’s “Jesus.”
Crossing out two passions from his professional interests, what does that leave? Well, if you ask about music he doesn’t rattle off an artist or genre as most would. Instead, he takes out his phone and begins to go through his playlists explaining the wide range of genres and artists.
Enter: entertainment law. “I want to show the stories of a lot of Haitian American musicians, designers and directors and all these different actors and actresses that don't have a platform to showcase their trials, tribulations and their stories or their creativity.”
Having family members who are musicians and designers has helped his interest grow in this sector, but his connection to this—to everything he does—stems from something so simple: who he is, or as he says, “legit me being Haitian.”
He sees the connections he can make, and how those connections can help others. His family in entertainment, being a student-athlete, a love for music, being a Haitian American kid from Long Island; “They all come together.”
A J.D. comes after three years of law school. Randy still has another trip to Haiti before the next steps. But his contributions to his culture don't begin or end with a law degree—they all come together.
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