
In the annals of history, certain figures stand out not only for their personal courage but for the ripple effects their actions set in motion. One such figure is Agnodice, the first recorded female physician in ancient Greece. Her story—of disguise, defiance, and ultimately, triumph—not only broke barriers for women in medicine but also offers a timely and powerful lesson for another embattled profession today: court reporting.
Agnodice’s journey began in a time when women were forbidden to study or practice medicine. Undeterred, she cut her hair, donned the clothes of a man, and entered medical school in Alexandria. After earning her education, she returned to Athens, where she became known for assisting women in childbirth. When suspicion and envy grew among her male colleagues, Agnodice stood trial. To save herself, she revealed her true identity as a woman—only to be sentenced to death for violating the law that barred women from medicine. But something remarkable happened: the women of Athens, led by the wives of the very judges who condemned her, rose up in protest. Their collective voice forced the court to reverse its decision, and from that day forward, women in Athens were allowed to practice medicine, at least for female patients.
This is not merely a historical anecdote. It is a living blueprint for how marginalized or threatened groups can resist powerful forces and reclaim their rightful place. And it speaks directly to today’s court reporters, who face their own battle: a struggle to protect a centuries-old profession from the encroachment of corporate interests and inferior technologies.
For decades, human stenographers have been the silent backbone of the justice system, capturing every word, pause, and inflection with remarkable precision. They are not mere typists; they are the guardians of the legal record, ensuring that justice is not just done, but seen to be done. Yet, in recent years, the rise of big-box agencies and corporations has threatened to erode this essential role. These entities push for digital recording devices, artificial intelligence tools, and automated transcription services—promising speed and cost-efficiency but often delivering inaccuracy and diminished accountability.
Many court reporters feel the ground shifting under their feet, and understandably so. But if Agnodice’s story teaches us anything, it is this: you are not powerless. In fact, you have more power than you may realize—but only if you harness it together.
Much like the women of Athens who rallied behind Agnodice, court reporters today must recognize their collective strength. Too often, we think of professional threats as isolated battles to be fought individually—one stenographer negotiating rates here, another raising concerns about AI accuracy there. But fragmented efforts rarely produce meaningful change. History shows that when people unite around a common cause, they can alter the course of entire professions and even societies.
One powerful historical parallel is the play Lysistrata by Aristophanes, in which Greek women band together to end a war by withholding intimacy from their husbands until peace is achieved. It is a bold, humorous, and exaggerated example—but it underlines a truth: collective action, especially from those traditionally underestimated, has the power to reshape outcomes.
For court reporters, this means coming together in visible, organized ways. It means joining professional associations, attending meetings, supporting legislation that safeguards the profession, and educating the public and the legal community about the indispensable role human reporters play. It also means being unafraid to challenge narratives that portray automation as inevitable and human skill as obsolete.
The stakes could not be higher. If the justice system relies on cheap but error-prone technology, we risk miscarriages of justice. Imagine the consequences of a transcript that misses a key statement, misattributes testimony, or fails to capture the nuance of courtroom exchanges. These are not minor glitches; they are potential grounds for appeal, mistrial, or worse—miscarriage of justice. Only trained human court reporters, with their skill and judgment, can provide the level of reliability the courts demand.
But the effort to defend the profession cannot rest solely on technical arguments. Like Agnodice’s supporters, who spoke not just of medicine but of their right to be cared for by women, court reporters must articulate why their work matters on a human level. They must tell the stories of how they have safeguarded truth in the courtroom, caught errors that could have derailed cases, or provided clarity in moments of chaos. These narratives have the power to rally allies—not just within the profession but among judges, attorneys, and the public.
It’s also worth remembering that Agnodice did not win her battle alone. She needed the solidarity of others to break through the legal and cultural barriers of her time. Court reporters, too, need allies: sympathetic lawyers, judges, journalists, and policymakers who understand the risks of replacing trained professionals with machines. Building these alliances takes work, but it is essential.
Of course, collective action requires sacrifice. It may mean investing time in advocacy when you would rather be resting after a long day in court. It may mean confronting uncomfortable truths about divisions within the profession—whether by experience, geography, or specialty—that weaken its unity. And it may mean taking professional risks to speak out against forces larger than any one individual. But these sacrifices pale in comparison to what is at stake: the future of a profession that upholds the very foundation of justice.
It is tempting, in the face of powerful corporations and relentless technological change, to feel defeated before the fight even begins. But history is filled with examples of underdogs who defied the odds. Agnodice’s story is just one among many, but it stands out because it shows that even in rigidly hierarchical societies, change was possible when enough people cared to make it happen.
Court reporters today are standing at a crossroads. Will they allow their profession to be reshaped by outside forces with little regard for quality or ethics? Or will they, like Agnodice and the women of Athens, tap into their collective strength to resist, adapt, and ultimately prevail?
The choice is clear. To protect the integrity of the courtroom, to defend the craft that only human hands and minds can deliver, court reporters must do more than simply excel at their work. They must organize, advocate, and demand recognition—not just for themselves, but for the future of justice.
The good news is that the power to shape that future is already within their grasp. The time to tap into it is now.