When I first entered USC, I often contemplated where I envisioned myself belonging. As a half-out-of-state, half-international student, I understood just enough American culture to blend in with my domestic friends, but I still sensed an internal disconnect. Luckily, I had a clear outline for my career ambitions and past-time hobbies, so I figured my involvement would be comprised of pre-professional aspirations and joyful communities. 

Joining organizations that also serve as stable, compatible support systems turned out to be a series of strenuous efforts. By the recruitment cycle’s end, I felt more drained than fulfilled. During my first year, I was the nervous applicant, dressed in business formal attire I stole from my mom’s closet and confined in tiny library rooms. Even as a freshman, I noticed how odd it was to be placed in that position, answering existential questions about my plans for the next three decades or tricky brain teasers that required strange, snarky wit. 

Today, the role has switched, and I am now sitting on the other side of the panel, fiercely taking notes on everything the candidate has verbalized and even documenting their body language. Needless to say, the scale of evaluation is intrinsically skewed and extremely biased. Just because I have a year of training in my book does not mean I am more qualified, knowledgeable or suitable than the naively enthusiastic candidate waiting to receive my approval. Little did they know that my decision-making was tainted with self-centered hypocrisy.

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After all, who am I to decide if their previous leadership experiences and lengthy personal statements are sufficient? Even after plentiful explorations, I am still just as unaware. I grew cynical about the idea of turning away my peers, but it’s impossible to completely accommodate open memberships and allow every person to receive resources and guidance in a professional environment. 

Recognized Student Organizations’ high rejection rate followed the trend of USC’s overall decreasing admission rates, under the pretense of fostering higher quality spaces. However, this semester, in particular, excluding Trojans from exploring new opportunities is inequitable. We are more isolated than ever due to the disrupted flow of student life from the spring.

I’d like to advise the newcomers to combat any prevailing or undermining loneliness by engaging with other like-minded friends in RSOs — but scratch that. Reviewing and eliminating applications triggers intense competition, forcing students to perceive each other as competition as opposed to a “chosen family.”To put it simply, we need to issue fewer rejections and consider how we could foster kinships even with those who didn’t make it into the club. 

Even if they cannot actively take advantage of the clubs’ programs, they could still receive tangential connections to the built-in networks they desire. By demanding demonstrations of extensive skills and excruciating rounds of interviews, we give ourselves too much agency to shut the door on people with endless potential, who are pursuing their interests. Clubs are currently structured to feed into a teenage-angst type of superiority complex: for their existing members to pride in the status they obtained and for prospectives to fear they are not “good enough” to belong. 

To be fair, there is an inherent distinction between the University’s “prestige” and RSOs’ self-prescribed “heightened standards.” While a high-quality education is the most important step we take as adolescents, being a part of a student organization does not prescribe the same life-altering effect.

We are living in a new age of anxiety, pressured by rigid benchmarks for where we are “meant to be” at a certain stage during our undergraduate years. Being valued and appreciated by clubs strikes as significant mental validation: proving that, despite only having limited control over our college years, we are accepted by a specific sector of USC. Thereby, we proclaim that space exclusively as our own.

On top of this crowd-dependent satisfaction, we are also conducive to looking up to older mentors who act as role models. Although receiving advice from upperclassmen is beneficial in certain areas, we are ultimately all navigating our confusing college experiences, and we should not be prompting internal hierarchy based on slight age differences. 

Being integrated on campus and finding different clusters of friends fill our capricious hearts. We shouldn’t expect anyone to think and operate identically, but knowing that some of our peers align with us more closely than others is comforting. Taking on additional obligations allows us to contribute to missions much larger than our selfish preoccupations.

It is indispensable for student leaders to recognize that we should strive toward less exclusivity. College is our chance to arrive at full prosperity. No matter how out of place we may feel, we can blossom in the right crowd. So, next time you receive an email that starts with “we regret to inform you,” rest assured and pivot to another space that deliberately embraces your presence.