Let’s Talk About Rejection
My first year of college was a whirlwind of new beginnings and serendipitous experiences. From competitive clubs to experiencing college party culture... drifting away from hometown friends and building new connections with unique individuals... truly experiencing loneliness and gaining independence... dealing with some typical and atypical roommate drama... experiencing culture-shock and a growing understanding of the uncensored history and socio-political sphere of the world... toss in newfound relationships... and you have the quintessential first year of college.
Though my first year was cut short, it was never dull or unanimated, since I was emerging from a small Armenian private high school in the San Fernando Valley, a parallel universe compared to the melting pot of diversity and intrigue that was the very liberal public university I would attend. In high school, I never worried about finding a niche because I had grown up in a bubble of school uniforms and a 50-person graduating class. I was accustomed to an environment where everyone knew everyone. That was my norm. I never knew anything aside from small, yet loud, school assemblies, my basketball team including friends of 15 years, and modest cultural events.
Throughout the entirety of high school, I can’t remember a time where I ever felt rejected by an athletic team, club, competition, or event. There was always a sense of support and encouragement from school professionals and teachers. The only time I had to deal with rejection was during the college application process, which I’m grateful for now, as it was preparing me for all the rejection to come. During my first semester of college, I faced more rejection than I had ever before. I recall feeling a sense of disbelief once I found out that I had to send in applications to join school clubs. My disbelief turned into frustration after finding out that my peers had rejected my applications to many of the clubs I applied to. I know now that dealing with such rejection wasn’t so much a personal thing as it was a part of life, something that happens to everyone. At the time, however, the rejection wasn’t a feeling I was used to.
My first semester had its highs and it certainly had its lows. I had sleepless nights consumed by the words of Shakespeare, only for my professor to schedule an office hour meeting with me to discuss the fact that I had completely misunderstood the prompt of our required essay. I cried out of frustration as I walked through the bustling crowd of professional fraternities and consulting groups dressed in business-attire and fundraising clubs urging me to buy a dozen donuts to support their cause. Those experiences, however, were nothing that couldn't be fixed with a gooey slice of artichoke pie from Artichoke Basille's Pizza and some retail therapy at the local Buffalo Exchange.
After applying (and being rejected) from numerous clubs, I threw myself into a public health club. I valued the projects and my time there, but my interest slowly dissipated in the topics and attending meetings felt like a chore. I wanted to be surrounded by a group of creatives who had the same passions as I did, but after being rejected from both the arts and theater club and the school newspaper, I felt lost and submerged myself in schoolwork. As my first semester carried on, I became enveloped in stress and anxiety. I grew sluggish because of this and knew I had to find a way to be part of something that made me feel like me. I’ve always upheld the sentiment that when you look good, you feel good, but that motivation now felt foreign to me.
I noticed the fashion club table from the corner of my eye after my last class of the week. I’m not one to typically stop at these tables for fear that I may end up walking away with an In-N-Out cheeseburger and five dollars less, but the lookbook on their table struck me. The cover art was adorned with editorial-style photographs of modeling students wearing colorful articles of custom clothing and neon makeup. I walked away with a flyer and felt an instantaneous wave of comfort and excitement about the opportunity of joining such a creative process. I applied to the club, was accepted for two positions, and threw on the new Fenty neon liquid eyeliner I purchased with my year-old Sephora gift card, wore my favorite pair of Levi’s, a shimmering top, and made my way to the first club meeting. During my time with the club, I learned that fashion and beauty trends have been shaped and are currently fueled by socio-political themes like resistance and indulgence, and that fast fashion isn't necessary to create an alluring outfit. I found a niche of people that admired the importance of expressing themselves through the form of fashion and beauty, which was right for me.
Before finding your place of belonging, you have to understand yourself and dive into your interests without fear of judgment or rejection. When the rejection comes (and, oh, it will), it’s important to do things that make you feel like yourself. Once you exert all your energy into receiving validation or acceptance from someone and plans fail, it is entirely normal to feel dejected and lost. I fell into that same rut after facing consecutive rejections. To combat that sense of “What now?” or “I don’t know how to move on from this,” it’s important to remain true to yourself in whatever way you can. This form of self-expression and self-care is different for everyone. For me, that was putting time into self-care and looking good to feel good.
Most importantly, don’t take rejection personally. My mom always reminded me that their rejection is “their loss,” and it truly is “their loss.” It’s up to you to take rejection and work harder, all while staying true to yourself. Don’t let it control you, but also know that the feeling of disappointment from rejection is entirely normal. Dwell in it for a little, learn from it, and grow from it. It will only get better.