My frustration isn’t with people who’ve overcome hardship or adversity. In fact, I admire that deeply, and I believe many of those individuals bring qualities to medicine that can't be taught in a classroom. What I’ve struggled with is a sense that the system sometimes sends the message that lived hardship is the only kind of valuable experience—and that those who come from more stable or "ordinary" backgrounds are automatically less worthy, or have to work twice as hard to be seen.
You mentioned that my words seemed to suggest adversity is ornamental or trivial. I believe that is a straw man. What I meant to express is that it sometimes feels like you need to have an extraordinary life story just to get in the door, and if your path has been steady and structured, you’re somehow less compelling—regardless of your competence, compassion, or drive to serve.
I also want to push gently on the idea that questioning aspects of DEI means I’m “unfairly resentful” or attacking URM populations. That’s not what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to understand where the line is between fairness and overcorrection, between acknowledging historical and systemic wrongs and creating new forms of exclusion in the name of justice. Maybe you think that’s a flawed premise, and I’m open to hearing that, but I do think it’s a question worth asking.
You’re right that data still shows strong MCAT/GPA performance correlates with admission, and I acknowledge that. But the growing emphasis on qualitative factors can make the process feel unpredictable, especially when you don’t come from a background that gives you access to the kind of narrative that stands out.
Actually, no, the previously optional "Disadvantaged" essay has now been rebranded on AMCAS to "Other Impactful Experiences," which I disagreed with on similar grounds but nonetheless shows that even you, the Platonic Ideal of medical school applicants, likely have at least
a story of relevance or impact. Hint for the class: the admissions professionals above have already said the story doesn't even have to be good.
But don't worry, because due to the "poor" who have "grow[n] up in some slum," medical schools increasingly employ holistic admissions in an effort not to throw out applications on the basis of just one component, which means those 1325 characters likely weren't the nail on the coffin. It means, holistically, you fell into that teeny tiny ~20% population that are unable to secure admission with your stats.
Oh, to be that 20% must sting. It means your peers, none smarter or more accomplished than you, instead look down on you. They wonder how you didn't make it, even though supposedly you did everything right. Do
you think that's fair? Because you're basically dunking on URM (under the guise of DEI which you appear unaware to realize gesture to the same idea) applicants in precisely the same way.
What I'm saying is that when life itself tells you that you have an >80% chance at something, and you complain about the odds, maybe the problem is you. Doubly so if you do it while also punching down on people who have the least chance. There was something clearly materially wrong in your application, and you're displacing your anger for being insufficient on a population that is popularly scapegoated. It's really hard for everyone to watch you grandstand about your church morals in your WAMC while also dramatically rocking your fist in the wind, cursing
those damn Hispanics because you didn't get in. It's malicious, on its face but even more so insidiously. I point it out because it's instructive at a broader point I'm making.
To add insult to injury is your entitlement over essentially the same group—URM—which you hide behind terms like "qualitative factors" and "stand-out narrative" because again, you are clearly showing that belonging to those groups is ornamental, and then based on that inferior frame, assess it as undeservingly meritorious. Believe me, it's not even a consolation prize. 0/10 would not recommend poverty to anyone. I would absolutely "Freaky Friday" body-switch with you in a heartbeat and be
just an ordinary guy.
Even now, as I apply, I find myself just trying to be more like you, trying to make less waves in a way that doesn't erase me. But I can't. Because my demographics are often the lens I'm reduced to, not just as an applicant, but as a person. You feel like you can't stand out in a sea of people who are just like you; I feel like every word I say is scrutinized because everyone treats me like a garbage pail for their unresolved feelings about race and social culture more broadly. I was an undergrad in state government writing healthcare legislation while doing research at NASA but people are going to look at my demographics and think.....
nope! Talk about unfair! My rights not to be discriminated on the basis of being a gay man are currently being contested in public media; as is my citizenship as the American-born child of legally naturalized immigrants. So, under those stakes it's really difficult for me to feel sorry for you because you don't have other adversities with which to position yourself heroically in tension with—as if it's a roleplay.
But the reality is, hardboiledeggs, that this isn't a contest for how normal or typical someone is. You can eat hard-boiled eggs on their own and maybe be satisfied. The way I see it, some people (read: schools) are just looking with a delicious deviled egg, topped with bacon and a sliver of cornichon, dusted with smoked paprika and flaky salt. Can't blame them. There are so many eggs you can take to the gullet before you're tired of eating eggs.
If you were one of the ~20% in your position that thought just being an egg was all it took, that was a judgment problem. It doesn't have anything to do with anyone else, and it should be eye-opening to you that your mind went to blaming others. Even more so with the very intellectually effortless scapegoat you chose. Even if this all gets taken down, I respect you enough to mirror to you what you're putting out there.
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