 As arts leaders, visionaries, and advocates, we are trained to celebrate the "wins." We post about the prestigious grants, the sold-out events, and the major awards. We draft press releases for the achievements that validate our hard work. But there is a quiet, collective reluctance to talk about the projects that didn't go as planned, the applications that were rejected, or the ideas that seemingly backfired.
There is still a lingering taboo around failure. However, when I reflect on the most significant milestones of my career, I realize that what we often label as "rejection" is actually a vital opportunity to refine our vision. In my experience, some of the most successful projects, including an award-winning digital media initiative and a major partnership with a regional hospital, didn't start with a "yes." They began as unsuccessful grant proposals. Those initial rejections weren't dead ends; they were catalysts. They forced us to sharpen our ideas, ask harder questions, and eventually execute a much stronger version of the original concept. This dynamic isn't just professional; it’s personal. Years ago, after receiving my first green card to the United States at 19, I was forced to return to the UK due to my mother’s sudden passing. At the time, it felt like a crushing professional setback on top of a personal tragedy. But that "failure" of timing led to a second chance later in life, one I was far better prepared to handle. Similarly, my first application to a major international fellowship was rejected. But that "no" opened a dialogue. The feedback I received encouraged me to lean into my passion for storytelling and folklore, which ultimately defined my entire career path. "Failure" is often just a signal that we are on the right track, but we still have a little more work to do. Whether you are leading an arts organization, a community initiative, or a personal passion project, taking the "long view" is essential. In the heat of a crisis or a budget shortfall, setbacks feel urgent and terminal. But when we look back, we often see that our most challenging periods were actually times of intense personal growth and the forging of lifelong connections. Being vulnerable about these setbacks is just as important as celebrating the wins. It helps us feel less alone and reveals that "wins" and "losses" are simply two different parts of the same creative process. Recently, I led a team through a grueling three-stage application process for a grant from a major national foundation. We made it to the final round, an incredible feat, and then, we didn’t get it. I won't lie, it was a disappointment. But as the dust settled, the perspective shifted. Being considered in the final round was a massive validation of our shared mission. That "failed" application led to an invitation to present work directly to the foundation’s senior leadership. We were able to go deeper than the pages of an application, sharing decades of experience in cultural preservation and storytelling. We would never have had that seat at the table without the "failed" application. In recent years, we have all had to become more agile, more responsive, and more creative in how we reach our audiences and advocate for our causes. We’ve learned to explore new applications for our work, from healthcare to social justice, often because the "traditional" paths were temporarily closed to us. By all means, let’s acknowledge our wins. But let’s also be thankful for the setbacks we experience along the way. They almost always help us come back stronger. Kiran Singh Sirah This blog is part of Storytelling: A Gift of Hope, a curated initiative that explores the art of storytelling and its tremendous power to transform how we see ourselves and each other, not just despite our differences, but because of them. |