There is much Harvard is good for: awkward conversations at the dentist, amping up your street cred with the Cambridge townies, procuring a wider showing at National Alcohol Screening Day than any varsity sporting event—the list goes on. Debatably one of its most enduring qualities, however, is its affinity for rejection.

Like me, you may have been under the ludicrous assumption that after surviving the college application process, the act of validating oneself through open-ended, unimaginative essay prompts would cease to be a core extracurricular. For incoming freshmen worried you may have to stop talking about how feeding needy children in Tanzania helped you discover the meaning of life, do not fret. The application process is here to stay. But if you thought applying to college was selective, try signing up for the overnight shift at the homeless shelter—who knew there were too many people trying to feed the hungry?

Harvard’s one-of-a-kind aptitude can turn any seemingly benign or inclusive endeavor into a chance to dull out another application and receive some much-coveted rejection. Take, for example, the friend-making process. If you thought meeting people was an individual-agency, anyone-can-do-it sort of thing, think again. Unless you’ve actively chosen to avoid popular American culture, you’ve probably heard of the Greek system—for those non-conformists out there, it basically entails excessive platonic flirting and a few numbers tacked on to your payments for the semester, in exchange for a contracted friend group, some Greek letters, and a chance to sport that original hand sign in any and all future photographs. Like most schools, Harvard has its own version of Greek life on campus. But, as this is Harvard, we’ve one-upped this semi-exclusive institution with one of yet greater exclusivity and prestige: Final Clubs. While anyone can rush a sorority or fraternity for a chance to be judged by one’s peers, one must first receive an invitation for the privilege of later being rejected by a Final Club.

Want to make friends the old fashion way? Don’t worry; there are plenty of other activities where rejection remains an option. Popular choices include Crimson Key, PAF, and First-Year-Outdoor Program. Their wide appeal allows them to take only a small portion of their applicants, leading students through an obstacle of application steps only to deny them in the end.

So you have no ready-made friends, no activities to drown your sorrows in, and a growing sense that you’re not as cool as you once thought. I’d say you have it pretty good. (Seriously.)

For a sizable portion of the student body, rejection is not a conceivable experience prior to stepping onto Harvard Yard. Sure, we may have been cut from the cup-stacking team or asked to lip sync during the sixth grade choir concert, but most of what we worked for, we got. Perhaps a life of moderate and largely unquestioned success leads to a false sense of pride and thus a subconscious belief that we will ultimately be rewarded for our efforts. By thoroughly acquainting us with rejection, Harvard crucially reminds us that this isn’t always the case.

Rejection’s intrinsic incorporation into every aspect of Harvard life can be a bit excessive. While being surrounded by so many passionate and over-qualified individuals is humbling and inspiring, it can also perpetuate serious feelings of inadequacy. As diverse as our backgrounds and interests may be, there is no denying the Harvard mold. Prior to arriving on campus, I was under the impression that J.Crew was a furniture store for old people. Now the only time I can walk outside without being immediately greeted by pastel and tweed is during finals week. The desire to find our place among the khakis and boat shoes can be overwhelming, and in a culture defined by judgment and competition, it’s impossible not to compare yourself to others. In doing so, we often end up substituting the activities that make us happy for ones we think we’re supposed to be doing.

But buying a pair of Sperrys and joining the most prestigious organizations won’t always help you find your niche. The quality of an organization isn’t defined by how exclusive it is, and surprisingly enough, joining activities for the sake of padding a resume isn’t very conducive to self-discovery.

Rejection’s essential benefit is that it forces you to try something else; while it may be a slap to your ego, it can lead you to new opportunities you may have otherwise overlooked. Contrary to popular belief, there are many great organizations at Harvard that are quite inclusive and simply don’t get as much attention. Go visit the Dudley Co-op for Naked Brunch if you don’t believe me.

Gabriela E. Weldon ’16, a Crimson editorial writer, lives in Wigglesworth Hall.