They Had Already Decided How Far I Would Go

I remember sitting in a conversation one day with a group of people, and somehow the topic of university degrees came up. You know how these conversations can go. Someone mentions a university, someone else mentions another, and before you know it, everyone suddenly becomes an unofficial university ranking committee. 

Some of the people in that conversation had studied at Midlands State University. Others were from the University of Zimbabwe, and there were a few from the National University of Science and Technology. And then there was me, the Great Zimbabwe University girl. Except they didn't know that.

I remember sitting there quietly, listening.

The conversation slowly turned from discussing universities into discussing the value of the degrees that came from them. Which university was respected more? Which graduates were more likely to get jobs? Which institutions had better reputations?

And then someone mentioned Great Zimbabwe University.

I won't lie. I felt something inside me sink a little.

They spoke about it as though studying there automatically put you at a disadvantage. As though the name printed on your degree had already decided how far you could go. The general idea was that when you started applying for jobs, especially in Zimbabwe, employers would naturally lean towards graduates from the "top" universities. If you weren't from one of those institutions, you were already starting the race several steps behind.

And I just sat there, quiet, listening.

The funny thing is, they didn't know they were talking about me.

At some point, I remember thinking, "If only you knew."

If only you knew that the person sitting right here, quietly listening to you explain why people like me wouldn't get very far, actually came from the very university you were dismissing.

There was something strangely painful about hearing it from people I was beginning to consider friends. It wasn't just the opinion itself. It was what the opinion represented.

For a moment, I felt small.

I felt like perhaps my degree wasn't enough. Perhaps I had somehow started my journey from the wrong place. Perhaps there were doors that would never open for me simply because of the institution whose name appeared on my academic papers.

And honestly, I understand where those perceptions come from.

We grow up hearing these things. Certain universities develop strong reputations because of their academic standards, alumni networks, research, facilities, programmes and the opportunities their graduates have historically received. Rankings exist for a reason. Employers can also consider the reputation of an institution when evaluating candidates, depending on the industry and role.

So I'm not here to pretend that the name of a university never matters.

Sometimes it does.

But I think we sometimes make the mistake of turning one factor into a life sentence.

A university can influence your opportunities, but it cannot completely determine your potential. A degree can open a door, but it cannot walk through the door for you. And the name of an institution can appear on your CV, but it cannot tell the entire story of the person holding that CV.

Because eventually, life has a funny way of testing the things we confidently declare to be true.

And looking back now, I realise that conversation taught me something I didn't understand fully at the time.

People can have a very convincing picture of your future that has absolutely nothing to do with your actual future.

They can look at where you started and confidently tell you where you will end. They can look at the university you attended, the neighbourhood you grew up in, the opportunities you did or didn't have, your accent, your experience, your background, your failures, your lack of connections, and build an entire story about you.

And sometimes, if you aren't careful, you start believing their story too.

But their perception is not prophecy.

I didn't graduate from one of the universities they were praising that day. I didn't have the supposedly perfect starting point. But somehow, I still found myself outside Zimbabwe.

I got a job in Japan.

I have sat through interviews with companies and recruiters beyond Zimbabwe. I've had conversations about opportunities in the UK, Europe and elsewhere. Some opportunities worked out. Some didn't. Some interviews ended with rejection. Others opened another door.

And no, I'm not sitting here pretending that I've "made it." I still have dreams I'm chasing. I still have applications that don't work out. I still have moments when I wonder whether I'm doing enough.

But that isn't the point.

The point is that I got further than the version of my future that those people had imagined for someone like me.

And perhaps that is what I want someone reading this to hear.

Maybe you graduated from a university people don't consider prestigious. Maybe you went to a college people look down on. Maybe your degree isn't from the institution you once dreamed of attending. Maybe your career didn't begin in the way you thought it would. Maybe you are looking at other people's LinkedIn profiles and wondering why their lives seem to be moving faster than yours.

Please don't confuse someone's ranking system with God's plan for your life.

And even outside of faith, don't confuse society's perception of your starting point with the limits of your destination.

There is so much more to a person than where they studied. There is curiosity. There is resilience. There is character. There is creativity. There are skills you teach yourself outside the classroom. There are experiences that shape you. There are people you meet. There are risks you take. There are failures that teach you. There are doors you knock on repeatedly. There are doors you create when nobody opens one for you.

Your degree is a chapter. It is not the entire book.

And perhaps we need to be careful about the way we talk about universities and the people who graduate from them. Because sometimes we think we are simply discussing institutions, but we are unknowingly attaching value to human beings.

"This university produces better people."

"That university won't get you anywhere."

"Those graduates are more employable."

"People from there are more successful."

Statements like these can sound harmless when they are tossed around casually. But there is always a person sitting somewhere who hears them and begins questioning their own worth.

I know because I was that person.

I sat quietly in that conversation.

And nobody knew that every word was landing on someone who had studied at the very university they were dismissing.

Maybe that's why I remember it so clearly.

But today, I don't remember it with the same heaviness.

I actually smile at the irony of it.

Because life didn't ask them for permission to prove them wrong.

And maybe that is the most beautiful part.

Sometimes you don't need to defend yourself in the room. Sometimes you just keep living. You keep learning. You keep applying. You keep growing. You keep knocking. You keep becoming.

And one day, you look back and realise that the thing you were once made to feel ashamed of was never actually a limitation.

So to the person reading this who feels like they didn't start from the "right" place: breathe.

Your university is not your destiny. Your first job is not your destiny. Your current salary is not your destiny. The rejection email sitting in your inbox is not your destiny. And someone's opinion about what people like you can or cannot achieve certainly isn't your destiny.

There are realities to acknowledge. There are barriers that are real. There are institutions that carry more weight in certain industries and circumstances. Pretending otherwise would be dishonest.

But there is a difference between acknowledging a barrier and worshipping it.

Don't turn a disadvantage into an identity.

Don't let someone else's assumption become the ceiling above your head.

I once sat in a room where people casually decided that a degree from my university would make life harder for me.

They didn't know they were talking about me.

And perhaps they were right that some doors might be harder to open.

But they were wrong about one thing.

They thought the name on my degree would tell them where I was going.

It didn't.

And it still doesn't.

Because sometimes the people who underestimate the road you're walking have no idea how far you're willing to walk.

So, to my fellow "bottom university" graduates, wherever you are: keep going.

Not because you have something to prove to them, but because you have a life to live that is much bigger than their opinion of you.

And if you ever find yourself sitting quietly in a room while people are discussing what people like you can never achieve, listen if you must. Smile if you can. Then go home and continue building.

Because your story is still being written.

And they haven't read the next chapter yet.