When Rejection Isn’t Failure... It’s a Boundary Enforcing Itself
- Michael Troxell
- Jan 19
- 3 min read
Most people experience rejection as a personal judgment.
You weren’t good enough.
You didn’t measure up.
You missed something.
That interpretation assumes the institution, leader, or system (or even romantic interest or potential friend) doing the rejecting is neutral, healthy, and self-aware.
That assumption is often wrong, because rejection isn't failure in every system.
Sometimes rejection isn’t an evaluation of your competence.
It’s a boundary enforcing itself… quietly, efficiently, and earlier than you expected.
By boundary-enforced rejection, I mean rejection that isn’t about your competence or fit or character, but rather is about a system protecting itself from someone who disrupts its power or influence structure, its equilibrium.
I’ve been through a lot of interviews across decades, sectors, and leadership levels. Most were rigorous, fair, and professionally demanding. A few were not. In two cases—years apart, in entirely different contexts—the pattern was unmistakable.
From the first moments, the posture wasn’t curiosity.
It was suspicion.
Not “Help us understand your path,” but “Why should we trust you?”
Not “What do you bring?” but “Why are you a risk?”
Not “Let’s explore if you are a fit,” but “Let’s stack up disqualifiers against you.”
That’s not vetting. That’s defensive sorting.
And it reveals something far more important than whether you get the role.
The Telltale Signs of Boundary-Based Rejection
Boundary-based rejection has a distinct feel. It shows up when your presence threatens an existing equilibrium rather than failing to meet a standard.
Watch for patterns like these:
A guilty-until-proven-innocent posture
Objections piled without resolution
Credential gatekeeping without curiosity
Character insinuations instead of questions
Emphasis on hierarchy over contribution
Repeated reminders of “how things work here”
Healthy systems don’t need to announce their equality, fairness, or openness. When people keep saying “we’re all equal” or “we all decide together,” it usually means authority is contested or poorly contained.
People at peace with their place don’t defend it verbally. They don’t need to.
My mother-in-law told my wife many times as she was growing up, “If you have to tell someone you are a lady, you’re not.” What you are should be self-evident by how you act, your decorum, your speech… how you treat people around you.
This is why Maya Angelou said, “When people show you who they are, believe them the first time.”
Why Explaining Doesn’t Fix It
Capable people fall into a predictable trap: If I can just explain this better, it will resolve.
But boundary enforcement isn’t driven by misunderstanding.
It’s driven by identity protection.
That’s why clarification fails. The issue isn’t misinformation… it’s a perceived threat.
When your competence, independence, or non-linear path highlights stagnation, insecurity, or unresolved power dynamics, the system doesn’t argue openly. It tightens the gate.
The Moment That Matters Most
Here’s what most people miss:
You shouldn’t walk away thinking, “How do I convince them?”
You should walk away thinking, “I don’t like who that person is.”
That’s not wounded pride.
That’s discernment.
Rejection hurts most when it attacks integrity indirectly… when nothing explicit is said, but something unmistakable is shown. Yet it also brings relief, because something false is revealed early.
That’s not loss.
That’s early truth.
Rejection Isn't Failure... It is Important Insight
Boundary-enforced rejection isn’t random. It functions as a signal, demonstrating:
How power is handled
How dissent is treated
How difference is interpreted
How newcomers are tested
How insecurity manifests
In large teams, the size of the group absorbs much of the bad behavior and attitudes of individuals.
But, in small teams especially, behavior of the individual defines its culture. When the team size is small, there’s no policy thick enough to protect you from someone’s daily bad attitude and behavior.
The real question is never “Was this unfair?”
It’s “What would I have to tolerate—regularly—for this to work?”
If belonging requires you to reinterpret disrespect, explain away patterns, or shrink yourself to survive, disengagement isn’t bitterness.
It’s self-respect.
And sometimes, the most competent decision you make is letting a closed door stay closed… because it wasn’t keeping you out.
It was keeping something else in.
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