By Ricky Harris
September 16, 2026

Putting yourself out there takes a level of vulnerability that is often difficult to view as being worth the risk. Whether it’s seeking a position in an organization you love, applying for your dream job, or creating a new event or initiative, the risk of failure isn’t worth it to some. But I’ve taken risks, failed many times, and I’m here to tell you it was worth every bit of effort.

Many years ago, during my undergraduate time at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock, while already involved as an RA and on my campus newspaper staff as an editor, I decided I wanted to give back more. I threw my hat into the ring for president of the student government association. I loved my institution and was grateful for everything it had done for me, so of course I wanted to serve it even more. I was all-in: I had shirts and posters made, talked to as many people as I could, and was sure I’d be at least competitive in the race. Heartbreak quickly took over as election night came and went, and I lost handily. I felt humiliated after taking that risk and failing miserably. But now, looking back after plenty of reflection over the years, I am grateful for the opportunity the experience gave me to tell my story and get to know many fellow students I may not have met otherwise. And that experience didn’t stop me from giving back; I just gave back in different ways instead.

When I first graduated with my master’s degree, the job market was tough in student affairs, especially housing. That can be difficult to comprehend with how things were during and after the pandemic, but I promise it’s true. I applied for countless jobs, went on a myriad of campus visits which led me to think I was never going to stop visiting airports, and received plenty of rejections. I didn’t receive an offer and start a professional position until mid-July after graduating, just in time to be thrown into a new department and a new state as trainings and move-in were mere weeks away. Throughout that prolonged job search process, the constant rejections chipped away at my confidence, leaving me feeling like I had nothing to offer. Yet, almost overnight, that isolation evaporated into a trial by fire. I was dropped into a new department where there was no time to doubt my abilities because there were schedules to finalize, crises to manage, and a campus full of students arriving in just a few weeks.

In 2019, while still serving as a resident director at the University of Arkansas – Fort Smith, I was appointed to the SWACUHO Executive Board as the Arkansas State Director. To say I had imposter syndrome would be the understatement of the century. I loved SWACUHO and my experiences thus far, but why was I on a leadership team with so many decision-makers in our region? Those first few executive board meetings were tough as I tried to find my voice. As a few months passed, and after conversations I had at the previous annual conference, I was ready to put myself out there and try something new. With the blessing of the board and support of colleagues in Arkansas, I got the green light to attempt to host a summer drive-in conference for housing professionals in the state. I knew it was a risky endeavor, but I also knew that we would never know if it would be successful if we didn’t try. After months of planning and nervousness about attendance continued, 70 professionals joined us in Conway for what would become an annual event. Our “low-cost, high-impact” event had succeeded, and pride gleamed from my face. Now, in 2026, the event had 99 attendees in its sixth iteration (thanks, COVID, for it not being the eighth) and is going strong as, arguably, a new staple event for our association. Taking that risk led to my continued involvement in SWACUHO, for which I now serve as President-Elect.

I tell those stories to reiterate this message: take the risk and put yourself out there. Yes, you might fail. But as legendary college football coach Nick Saban once said, “There can be no great victories in your life unless you overcome adversity.” Coach Saban is right. Whether it’s a lost SGA election or wondering if you'll get a job, the adversity is just the entry fee for the victory.

Ricky Harris
Associate Director of Residence Life at University of Central Arkansas