The Pain and Joy of Inevitable Academic Rejection

Rejection. Failure. This blog post has already taken a sour turn. No one wants to talk about these things. They are commonly considered taboo. Buried because they are embarrassing and rarely talked about broadly. Disappointing hiccups on our way to success that no one adds to their CVs, resumes, or cover letters. While they aren’t commonly publicized, discussed, or celebrated, I am here to make the case that they can be.

To lead by example, I will own my most recent rejection – The past two consecutive semesters I have applied to a prestigious fellowship offered by Ohio State only to be rejected both times. The first rejection stung, but knowing I had a second chance I pushed harder, elevated my application materials, and resubmitted with even more confidence. The second rejection stung more. While processing the news I allowed myself to be sad, but also forced myself to reflect on what I was experiencing.

Up until this point in my life, I have never been on the receiving end of academic rejection. I have been privileged enough to be accepted into all of the Universities & Programs I have applied to. As a 26-year-old adult I had to process for the first time what it was like for someone to tell me I or my work was not good enough to make the cut. My next alarming realization is that I am about to enter a field in which rejection is more the norm than acceptance. For all of my future grants that will be awarded funding, articles that will be published in a journal, and jobs or promotions that will take place, there will be countless more funding, publication, and job rejection emails. This reflection of my experience and initial reaction quickly turned into a minor career identity crisis, as I wondered if I was cut out for a future full of rejection. After spending a significant amount time sorting through all of the thoughts in my head, I came to the following realizations that I wanted to share.

  • Rejection is not pleasant. It is okay to have a negative reaction. I let myself be sad, upset, angry, because I wanted to own those feelings and emotions as a human. But I also didn’t want to dwell on them. After taking some time to feel negatively, I started to think about the positive outcomes of my applications despite the rejection. I had improved my writing skills, I had developed a stronger argument to frame my research within, and I had updated my CV!
  • Rejection is not the end. While processing my negative emotions related to being rejected, I started asking myself what was upsetting about the rejection. I wouldn’t be receiving the fellowship funding, but I also have other funding opportunities available to me. I can explore research assistantships, help write a grant to be funded on, or continue with a variety of teaching positions. I was also upset that I, my advisor, and the department weren’t being recognized for this valuable research, but there are also other ways for recognition to be gained. Awards and recognitions exist beyond this single fellowship application, and nothing is stopping me from continuing to try and bring recognition to my work.
  • Rejection is not embarrassing. I found myself initially thinking that I wished I wouldn’t have told anyone I was applying for this fellowship because now I will eventually have to tell everyone that I didn’t receive it. I dreaded these conversations and thought they would be embarrassing and judgmental. As prevalent as rejection is in academia, normalizing this phenomenon will be beneficial for the community. Rejection is difficult, and having a community of people to not only share in your disappointment but also push you to grow from that rejection is important.

Rejection is unpleasant. It is inevitable and stings. It did the first time, and I am so very sure it will the one hundredth time. However, I think we have an opportunity in academia to learn to embrace these rejections and teach our students, mentees, and colleagues the value of proudly owning our rejections with authenticity and hope for future possibilities.