How to Begin at the Beginning
Just a few moments ago, I came across an essay from a former colleague on another platform talking about why he wasn’t attending an activity the previous weekend. In that statement, he named the two institutions where he claims to have experienced some form of abuse from those in it. One of them is my alma mater in the U.S. Unlike him, however, I do not intend to name the institution but those who know me and read this essay can put two and two together.
I have yet to hear the full story of what abuse he has experienced in those two institutions. Thus, I cannot say that I believe that his allegations are true. I understand that he intends to look into what happened to him in those two schools, and I look forward to what he can share. However, having read the very first part of a memoir project he has been working on, I think there is a question I can immediately raise: could that downward spiral have been averted?
The reason I ask is that we knew each other from school for some time, and I was “there” at the beginning. That beginning was when he was rejected by the admissions committee for my school’s doctoral program. I would not wish it upon anyone who was very committed to an academic career in theology and who wanted to work with people who could them. In fact, being rejected was the case for me more often than not. I have been accepted to some programs, most recently this one in New Jersey, but my applications have been rejected by some of the best programs in North America. It’s not easy to live with the impostor syndrome this can engender.
In any case, my colleague’s rejection happened at the tail end of a stormy time at my school. The president, who was the first non-Christian in the institution’s history, resigned over a row concerning anti-Muslim remarks he made before assuming office. I first learned of the controversy when I was working for a school at that consortium and I saw an email in our main reception inbox from an outside pressure group. Months later, the storm erupted. Around the same time as that leader’s resignation, the school fired its head of admissions. It set back the usual mid-February result letters by a couple of weeks.
When the letters came out, I learned that the school accepted me, something my colleagues at the school expected. At the same time, I learned that my friend was rejected. Having known him for some time, I felt that it was not my place to tell him anything — my good fortune could rub him the wrong way. I understand that his rejection did not come just through a letter. Two administrators asked to meet with him to discuss this matter. I await his account of what happened in that room, but I know that it might make for difficult reading.
Yet when he came out with his statement today, I was wondering again about what he could have done to make life easier for himself. Would it have helped if he let his friends, some of whom were already in the doctoral program, review his statement of purpose? I know of at least two people who could have helped him, and one of them said exactly that. Could he have taken the time to consider other doctoral program options because other schools could have taken him for what I knew he wanted to do? Those are just two of the questions that immediately come to mind. Again, I am writing from what I knew of the story that led to what he is planning to recount. I want to hear his side, but I hope he thinks about those “what ifs” without dwelling on them. The past is the past, even if it led to where he is now.
This leads me to the big question underlying these questions: how much of what one claims to suffer is, in part, of one’s own making? This is the sort of rhetoric that I’ve been hearing from those who have been very unhappy with cultural developments surrounding victims of abuse (like a certain HBO talk show host). Those who would be much more critical than I am would call his allegations nothing more than whining from an emotionally disturbed and immature individual. However, given that we haven’t really gotten the full picture and how the other parties involved would respond, I think that he needs to be given the chance to make his case.
The first step was, at last, to name where my former colleague experienced what he did. He took that step just after the weekend. I don’t know whether it will go through the grapevine. I am aware, though, that the institution from which I graduated, despite my positive memories of it, may already be reeling in other ways. All I can say is, from being there at the beginning when the president resigned, I don’t see a bright future.