The Truth About Getting Rejected as a Speaker: It’s Not Just About One No

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I didn’t expect to get picked as a speaker. I hoped I would. When I submitted my application for a travel conference, I told myself it was no big deal, that I was doing it “just to see.” The truth is, I wanted it. I imagined standing on that stage, sharing stories from 20+ years of travel. Someone in the crowd—another woman over 40, maybe a Black woman—might nod, thinking, finally, someone like me. Instead, I learned early what it feels like to get rejected as a speaker, and it stings more than I want to admit.

Thank You, But No Thank You

The email came. One line caught my eye before I finished reading: thank you for applying, but… What came after didn’t matter. The answer was no. No, nein, non, não, 아니요.

The tone was polite, of course. Politeness doesn’t ease the sting. I stared at the screen, hating how much it bothered me. This wasn’t just about a conference. It reflected all the doors I’ve walked past and never knocked on, all the times I told myself I’d already missed my chance. The travel conference rejected me as a speaker, but what hurt more was realizing how many times I’ve talked myself out of even trying.

What No One Wants to Say Out Loud

I’ve built a good life. I have a strong marriage. Two grown kids make me proud. I’ve lived around the world and seen things most people never will. But here’s the part I don’t say out loud—I let my career dreams slide off the table while I was holding everything else up.

Now I’m in my late 50s, sitting in a house in the Midwest, grateful but restless. I’ve outgrown the version of me who was too scared to try. I’m not sure there’s a place for this version of me either. The travel conference rejected me as a speaker, but what stayed with me was the quiet truth. I’ve spent years wanting to be more than just a wife and mother, yet I’ve often found myself convincing myself to settle for less.

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What It Feels Like to Get Rejected as a Speaker

I submitted the application. I wrote the pitch. They still said no. Now I know what it feels like to get rejected as a speaker, and the weight of that title sits heavier than I expected. I closed the laptop and sat there, staring at the wall, feeling stupid for how much it mattered. It does matter. This wasn’t “just a conference.” The rejection reminds me that people like me—women my age, Black women who built their lives around everyone else first—aren’t the ones getting invited to those stages.

I feel a little jealous of Jessica Nabongo, the first Black woman to visit every country in the world. I also wonder what she had to overcome to get there—not just visas and logistics, but the quiet battles. Doubts must have followed her. Loneliness probably crept in. She must have faced moments when she wanted to quit. I think about that because I’m sitting here, a rejected speaker, letting one “no” weigh me down. She kept going anyway, and that sticks with me.

I’m not going to say something hopeful tonight. I’m tired of pretending rejection is a lesson or a blessing. The truth feels lousy. The timing feels late. Some days, it feels like no one’s listening, no matter how hard I try to speak up.

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