‘why do you assume you’re the smartest in the room?’ is a question i have often asked myself
If the title of this piece rings a bell, it’s likely because you’re familiar with the musical Hamilton. The phrase “Why do you assume you’re the smartest in the room?” is a line from one of my favorite songs from the musical, “Non-Stop.”
While the context in the song revolves around Alexander Hamilton’s relentless ambition and confidence, I’ve found myself relating to these lyrics on multiple levels. The question, stripped of its musical context, has echoed in my mind lately, especially whenever I face one failure after another.
Yes, I fail. A lot. I just have a decent track record of handling it quietly and don’t talk about it often — not online, not in real life. Because of this, many people assume that I’ve been lucky enough to have everything laid out for me from the beginning. This assumption couldn’t be further from the truth.
I appeared very active in middle and high school, but not many people know that I didn’t get into my first, second, and third choice of school. People praise my decision to pursue a full-time career while still in college, without knowing that it was because I faced rejections from a few scholarship committees. I wrote a lot in various forms because my short stories were turned down by numerous digital media outlets.
This also happened in my career path, which some people see as a series of accomplishments. It seems like I always know what I want and what to do, where and how far to go. In reality, I’ve lost count of the job applications — over 250 — that went unanswered or were outright rejected. A few months ago I was also laid off. The reason given was restructuring, but the fact remains that I was among those my previous company decided to let go.
For a long time, I kept these experiences to myself, making it seems like my life has been a smooth ride. I thought this was how you do it — survive the cold, rough life that doesn’t always give you what you want. You have to keep everything to yourself and fight to get back on the path you believe is right.
Approaching my mid-20s, I realized that my past experiences shaped this mindset. I always felt I had to fight like I was running out of time to keep myself in motion, to avoid feeling and processing the rejections I faced.
The more I learned, the more I realized that it’s time to normalize sharing failures. In our culture, we often see a flood of success stories, making it seem like achievements are the norm and failures are rare exceptions. However, struggles and setbacks are just as common, if not more so. These should be part of the conversation too, in order to create a more genuine and supportive environment.
To reach this ideal state, I must also be more honest and open, not just someone with a persona that is overly curated and fabricated.
A few days ago, I faced another rejection. Though the sting of rejection is something I’ve grown accustomed to, this one cut a little deeper given its significance in my plans.
It felt like getting a COVID vaccine shot. It stings a bit when the needle pierces your skin, and then you feel fine. Over time, another sensation spreads: your arm feels numb and you become stiff. That’s what I felt after the announcement came out.
Everyone who knew about my journey over the past few months naturally asked, “How did it go? Did you get it?” Some even congratulated me in advance, long before the announcement was out. They were so sure — much more sure than I was. Their confidence was both comforting and unsettling, making the eventual rejection even harder to process. It was as if their certainty set an even higher bar for my expectations.
I always responded with a smile and casually said, “Nope, I didn’t get it. But it’s fine, I’ll try again eventually.” It’s the same answer I always gave whenever someone asked about my rejections.
Everyone empathized and tried to encourage me, but looking back now, I realize I felt nothing at the time. I was still stiff and numb, and I started looking for something else to keep me in motion.
Until one day, I found myself returning to “Non-Stop.” When I heard the line “Why do you assume you’re the smartest in the room?” there was a warmth that spread inside me. This line, the one I always listened to during the waiting period, reminded me to keep my expectations in check.
“Soon that attitude will be your doom” also lingered in my mind, and I knew I didn’t want that to be my fate.
I was both surprised and grateful because it took me quite a while to process this rejection to the point where I could finally write about it. Usually, I would write right away in my journal, then brush it off because I felt that whatever the problem was at the time, I had already poured it onto paper.
This time, I chose to write publicly. I chose to do this because I wanted this rejection to take shape not as an update on my profile anymore, but in my own words. I wanted to own the rejection; I didn’t want it to own me.
I don’t know what will happen after this. I don’t even know if my decision to talk more about rejections publicly will be good or bad for me. But what I do know is that I will try, hoping that what I share will reach someone who needs it and makes them realize that they are not alone. We are not alone.
