When I came to Howard, I swore I was hot shit. I had recently graduated with a gorgeous resume, full of honors, awards, community service, leadership positions, an impressive GPA, and outstanding test scores to back it all up. I was the epitome of minority success, not only accelerating in athletics, but within my extremely Caucasian math, science and technology high school, in the global community, and in the house of the Lord. Not to mention, I had a scholarship to the illustrious Howard University, which in Atlanta, was like going to Harvard. I was the black golden child, or in the words of Andre 3000, the prototype. So again, when I came to Howard, I swore I was hot shit. It wasn’t until I was denied from every single organization I applied to my freshman year that I suddenly doubted my capabilities.
I can still remember going to an interest meeting and the organizers asking students to raise their hands. “How many people have over a 3.7 GPA?” “How many of you were high school valedictorian?” “How many people own their own business?” “How many of you started a non-profit?” I looked around the room and realized my competition was a lot fiercer than expected. The people to my left and right were just like me. In fact, some of them were better than me. I had dropped my hand after the first question, while some of my fellow classmates were featured in media outlets, owned their own clothing lines, published books, not to mention they were carrying a purse worth more than my entire summer income. It was frightening.
“But you’re special,” I told myself. You’ll impress them in the interview. But the interviews came and went, and despite my greatest efforts, my application was thrown in the trash. Turns out I was just a regulah, degulah, shmegulah girl from the suburbs of Atlanta—or so I thought.
This is not an article against those in high positions of clout. This is not to slander anyone who’s apart of any of Howard’s prestigious organizations. I am speaking solely on behalf of my experiences and myself. This article is for the so-called “losers.” The people who didn’t make line, got dubbed from the org, failed a class, aren’t graduating on time, don’t have a lot of friends or are simply not true to themselves. This little speech is for everyone whose lost before, which I would assume is us all.
Howard can be overwhelming. It is filled with some of the most intelligent, creative, and strategic minds of our generation. EVERYONE here is great—in their own crazy and sometimes weird way. It can almost seem like a curse at first, to be surrounded by people so smart, multi-talented, and advanced in skill set. They’re this and I’m only that. They’ve got an internship at this company, and I’m only doing this. They’re apart of this organization, have connections with those certain people, and wearing this brand of clothing, blah, blah, blah.
There is this strange sense of elitism that exists within our Howard community. The elite versus the regular. The wealthy versus the poor. The D9 versus the rest of the student body. The Instagram model versus the girl with only 120 likes. School of Business “Money Gang” versus School of Education. The list could go on and on and on.
Comparing ourselves to others can be one of the dumbest things we do as human beings, because we immediately rank ourselves as better or worse without putting anything into context. And Howard has only pushed us to think of life as a competition, which it is I do agree. But to everyone reading this: You don’t have to win. You’re not required to be the best. You don’t have to get the most impressive internship, wear the most popular brands, do what everyone else is doing, or even out beat the competition.
You are an amazing person, who is like no other human being on this planet. You are not subpar. You are not unworthy. You were strategically selected amongst thousands of applicants to attend the MECCA, so treat yourself as so. Focus on your personal brand, your art, your work ethic, your attitude, your mindset, your body, your resume, your education, and anything else you want to do in your life. Focus on you, because that is what you have when you leave Howard. That is what’s important in this life you’re living.
All you have to do is be you. It took me two years to realize I was still hot shit. Don’t let it take you that long.