Right after the afternoon prayers were over, I ran straight to the art department. I was up till 2 am the night before making so many revisions on my poster, making sure it was perfect. My heart was racing and my body was tingling as I got closer and closer to the acceptance sheet. When I finally got there I immediately scanned it, looking intently for my name. I couldn’t find it. I read through it over and over again thinking of different possibilities for why my name wouldn’t be on there. That’s when I finally realized I didn’t make it. National Art Honor Society was something I’ve wanted to do since I first found out about it in eighth grade. Being part of something makes you feel better about yourself for whatever reason. At this moment I thought I would never be able to do art again and enjoy it like I use to.

I have never been athletic or actually had a burning passion to play sports, but for some reason in 6th grade my athletic desire changed. Tryouts were always rough and challenging. For example, the volleyball team seemed to have much larger girls than I expected. I guess it should’ve been a sign that I looked a bit skinny and unfit to join that team. Then there was the faster and a bit taller girl’s basketball team. My dribbling skills were a bit off and my pace was a bit slow, but there was always a chance that I would actually make a team. My conclusion was that the closest I could get to sports was being a dainty fragile ballerina. I started dance classes and found an actual interest that I didn’t have to be accepted in to. Then came seventh grade year where I was accepted into high school. I found out about the eighth-grade dance team at my future school and once again had a desire to be a part of something I loved. Throughout the tryouts, I felt a different feeling than at any other sport I experienced. For once, I actually felt comfortable. After a week of anxiously waiting for the letter to come in, my passion and dreams were once again vanquished: “Thank you for your interest in our dance team, but unfortunately…” Once again I was told I wasn’t good enough to be a part of something I had a passion for doing.

I was once told that the population of students in only 20%, but they are 100 % of the future. Why wasn’t I treated like that? I finally discovered a rift in the school system after that dreadful search for my name on a piece of paper. Art to me was like a guiding light for whenever I was stuck in somewhere dark. Art brought me from the most difficult places in my life. Art helped me feel like I achieved something in life like I was actually doing something that was meaningful not just to me, but to others as well. This dream was crushed by the exact place that reminds me every day to never let anyone tell me I’m not good enough. These cruel and embarrassing lies that raced from my school's mouth sent me in a place I thought I would never come out from. “Dear Brianna, I am sorry to say we can not accept you in to NAHS. Your gpa is not to our standards. We hope you continue to further increase your grades in order to try again for our program.” The disturbing feelings of rejection and denial stayed with me until my Junior year of high school, or at least I thought.

I told myself that I am not defined by who they want me to be. This is when my confidence was starting to be reeled back in. I told myself that I will use my skills from Art 2  and show them how important my art is to me, despite their expectations. At the end of my junior year, I started to schedule classes for the next school year. My art teacher would always tell me how I should try out for Art 3 and 4. She would say how they “need people like me,” so I did. When I was driving home one day I got the message and my scores were back. This must be a mistake, I thought. I kept checking and checking only to receive the same disappointing score every time. Why was I encouraged to do this when I was only going to be let down again? When I got home I ran to my room and tore down every piece of art on my walls. Everything that reminded me of how I was such a failure and disappointment. I have lived in a consistent cycle of denial. I thought I was a dancer. Then I thought I was an artist. So all I am asking is what do you want me to be? Because apparently everything I choose is not to your standards.

Instead of taking your advice I will purposely ignore it. I will lash out on my canvas because you hurt me. I am an artist and art is my escape from you. My love for art is a fire that I try to burn out with an extinguisher but it only spreads to a forest fire, causing everyone to get knocked down like the trees I murdered. I am an artist and my words flow onto that canvas like paragraphs and paragraphs of silence. I will do the exact opposite of your advice and I will move on to be better and greater things than you ever expected. Rejection gave me power. So I thank you for the years of abandonment and denial because it gave me something much more than you could have ever given me in your fancy art society.