This year was, without a doubt, the year of “no.” For most of my life, I hadn’t heard that word very often. I was a well-behaved kid who did well in school and didn’t ask for much, so the answer was usually yes when I did. I graduated from high school with a 4.2 GPA and was accepted into every college I applied to, often with scholarships included. For every scholarship or internship I applied for, I got. I was accepted and was able to study abroad in Munich through CCM’s Media Production internship and study abroad program. Every executive board position I ran for, I landed. And while I’m not listing these things to brag, they do help paint a picture: rejection was unfamiliar territory for me.

​

But this year, I found myself face-to-face with rejection, over and over again. And it was hard.

​

The biggest “no” came from an organization I had dreamed of joining since I was five years old. This wasn’t just any group. My mother and sister are both members, and it was always assumed I would be too. For three months, I put my heart into the application process. I met every requirement, attended every event, and even neglected some schoolwork because I was so focused on getting in. And yet, I didn’t get in. The rejection wasn’t just a “no,” it felt personal, crushing, and disorienting. It took me a week to emotionally recover.

​

However, that was only the beginning, as that was not my only “no”. I applied to two major internships: Proximity Media in Los Angeles and Tyler Perry’s Dreamers Program in Atlanta. I was a finalist for both, but ultimately didn’t make the cut. I also applied for a student-led scholarship on campus. Again, I became a finalist but wasn’t selected. After years of yeses, I was suddenly surrounded by a chorus of no’s, and it rocked my confidence. I started asking myself, “What’s wrong with me?” and “Why wasn’t I good enough?”

​

I had to shift my mindset to move forward. I learned to reframe rejection, not as evidence of inadequacy, but as a normal part of life. I had to realize that some things are simply out of my control.  I had plans, I mean detailed plans, for how this year was supposed to go. And when life veered off course, I spiraled. But I now understand that life doesn’t always follow my plans. There are external factors like timing, availability, and competition that I can’t influence. Rather than obsess over what didn’t happen, I focused on what I could control, like my attitude, effort, and growth.

​

One of the biggest lessons I learned is that rejection doesn’t mean the end. Just because I didn’t get into that organization this time doesn’t mean I won’t get in the future. Just because I didn’t land those internships doesn’t mean I’m not talented or deserving. Maybe it just wasn’t my time yet. As the saying goes, “Rejection is God’s protection.” Maybe I needed these setbacks to redirect my energy toward things that were truly meant for me.

​

Despite the disappointments, this year was full of accomplishments I had overlooked. I founded Reel Roots Productions, the University of Cincinnati’s first and only Black film club. I got to work on my craft in ways that made me feel confident and capable. When I first started in the media production program, I struggled with impostor syndrome, but I now trust my instincts more and feel proud of the work I create. I was even nominated for a student Emmy Award, which is something I never would have dreamed of a few years ago. 

​

I also made new friends through the projects I worked on, which was especially meaningful for me. Building connections doesn’t come naturally to me, but this year, I grew socially and professionally. These friends helped bring me out of my shell, challenged my thinking, and supported me in ways I didn’t know I needed. Many of them just graduated, and though it saddens me, I’m so grateful for the time we had. 

​

More than anything, I learned that I’m resilient. The rejections hurt, but they didn’t break me. I’m still here, still working, still creating. The world didn’t end. I didn’t give up.

​

I didn’t get through this year alone. I leaned on my professors, who were generous with their time and support. My friends reminded me of my worth when I started to forget it. And perhaps most importantly, I learned to trust myself, listen to my needs, and give myself grace when things didn’t go as planned.

​

As I move forward, I plan to continue relying on these resources and relationships. I’ll hold myself accountable by regularly reflecting on what I’ve learned and setting goals that stretch me without breaking me. I’ll stay grounded in the community and remain open to feedback, even when it stings. And I’ll remind myself that every “no” I face is just another opportunity to grow.