This is the second time I have made an effort to "debrief" my experience of RfA. For more than a year after my RfA, I went back and forth about writing a debrief several times. At first, I thought I definitely would and that it would be a zinger and that it would restore any reputation I might have lost. I started reading voraciously, discussing my RfA with friends, and taking down notes. But it was too soon, too knee-jerk. So I stopped. Sadness became anger, and after some ill-advised public remarks about my RfA and some of its participants, I drifted into thinking that I had nothing to say; that my RfA happened the way it did because I deserved it, and I deserved it because I am a dumb and unpleasant person.
If you want a diary of my experience of my RfA, there you go. I still don't think I can make a useful debrief of the event itself, coming back to this page in January 2024. But I think I can offer useful observations and suggestions for people who have failed RfA, are failing RfA, or are considering RfA. Below, I've organized my ruminations and advice according to where you find yourself in your RfA. In #Before is my warning against RfA, and advice if you choose to proceed. In #During is my advice for keeping your RfA experience as smooth as possible. And in #After is my final reflection of my RfA, and my advice for the aftermath of your RfA.
The first piece of advice I'd offer for someone considering RfA is to think twice. I might also say, and previously have said, that you shouldn't. If you are sick, stressed, short on time, anxious, don't. You can crush an RfA 200 to nothing, like Trialpears did at his ( courtesy ping), and it will still be stressful – Just ask Trialpears. An RfA will not be good for your health. Just think about what you are doing. You are going before the entire community, and observers, to ask for a judgment of your character and abilities. The consequences of an RfA, and especially an unsuccessful one, can be immense. But if I can't dissuade you, then here is some advice for avoiding a tumultuous RfA, or coping with having a rocky RfA.
Of the thousands of days that have thus far comprised my life, the first day of my RfA ranks among the best. To paraphrase one of my nominators, "it's nice to know you're a valued member of the community". It was very uplifting to learn that a lot of people thought I was OK and were willing to support me. I suspect this is true for a lot of RfA candidates. And that it lasts exactly as long as it takes for your candidacy to get its first substantial, relevant opposes. I'll digress and emphasis this, because sometimes first oppose votes have very weak rationales, which almost always attract a lot of eyebrow raising. These opposes can be really annoying, but don't worry about them – when I got my first oppose, which was of that caliber, an unnamed admin messaged me on Discord, "That oppose is dumb and will only get you more supports". Incorrect in my case, but spot-on for other RfAs.
After that first day, RfA is an intensely lonely and stressful experience, and it can get worse. A rough RfA will thoroughly batter you, your morale, and perhaps your credibility. It can be full of bad omens and worse happenings. If it isn't, it can still be pretty nail biting. Especially if you believe in omens. Many of these arise by not observing my advice above, but many others may arise during your RfA. As an example, if, after the first 48 hours of your RfA, there is a lack of some prominent names among your supporters, prepare for trouble. You should also worry if a sizeable proportion of the support your candidacy is based on who your nominators are – it's a sign that you don't have name recognition. If you are getting questions like, "Is this your Reddit account", someone may be fishing for a more acceptable reason to cast a vote in opposition to your candidacy than "I dislike you."
Of the thousands of days that have thus far comprised my life, the fourth day of my RfA (third day in UTC) ranks among the worst. It's not easy to wake up to ~50 new oppose votes, and especially when you can't laugh them off; especially when they are cast by names you know and respect. But them's the brakes. In an unfair world, there are some oppose votes you don't deserve, but also some you definitely do. It is also spiritually and emotionally taxing to watch the fighting that can happen in, over, and because of an RfA. The more an RfA goes off the rails, the sharper your partisans' knives become until they detach from all other aspects of the RfA and start stabbing people. So how do you keep your RfA on the rails, or steer it back there?
A lot makes an RfA, good and bad, smooth and rough, successful and unsuccessful. The aftermath of an RfA is also made up of many things. A successful, and even smooth, RfA is still stressful. A successful but rough RfA will leave you with a mop and a lot of baggage. But an unsuccessful RfA will leave you, at the least, with the stress and the baggage. An unsuccessful RfA will sap your morale. An unsuccessful RfA may introduce you to a lot of editors as "that one failed RfA". An unsuccessful RfA will hurt your chances at a future RfA, especially if you fumble in the aftermath. And all this assumes a basic, not-a-disaster unsuccessful RfA like the average "not quite yet". The consequences of a rough, or failed, or rough and failed RfA can be much, much worse and can be made much, much worse.
Allow me to briefly journal the aftermath of my RfA. Firstly, I should say that it was unique in two respects. First, it was unique to me for my failures in the roles of being a decent human being, editor, and candidate. Second, it was an extreme example of the process and even of unsuccessful RfAs. It closed after four days of pride and then conflict and rejection, destroyed my confidence in myself as an editor, member of the Wikimedia community, and as a person. I came away very depressed and angry at myself and some choice participants. I considered hanging up my pen. I considered changing my name, or starting over with a new account. I even considered killing myself. I didn't handle the aftermath well. An admin who had supported my candidacy later messaged me, "I think because of your RfA you're in a worse place to be[come] an admin."
This is all to say that my RfA and its aftermath was traumatic and, again, unique (I hope). But the feeling of having failed yourself, your nominators, and your comrades, the loss of self confidence, the disappointment, resentment, and maybe even humiliation are not unique to me and my RfA. Those are commonalities across all failed RfAs. Those are the natural consequences of a community into which you've invested a lot of time saying to you, "I DO NOT TRUST YOU". A lot of editors who have been denied a mop gave up editing Wikipedia, or dramatically scaled back their participation in the project. The failure of my candidacy left me feeling deeply humiliated, resentful, and ashamed of myself. A year after my RfA, I still felt unworthy of the respect of other editors, stopped doing the work that led me to ask for the mop in the first place, and increasingly avoided interaction with other editors.
This need not be you a year after your RfA. But if it is, that's OK. There's a lot of precedent on and off of Wikipedia for bouncing back from a setback like a failed RfA. You can learn from my mistakes, and from the examples of others. For example: if for some reason you still want to become an admin, consider that there are several admins who have failed RfA – sometimes several times – and passed later. Check them out if you want to run again. There is much to do after an RfA, and especially for a bad and unsuccessful RfA. So let me advise you about the aftermath.
This is the second time I have made an effort to "debrief" my experience of RfA. For more than a year after my RfA, I went back and forth about writing a debrief several times. At first, I thought I definitely would and that it would be a zinger and that it would restore any reputation I might have lost. I started reading voraciously, discussing my RfA with friends, and taking down notes. But it was too soon, too knee-jerk. So I stopped. Sadness became anger, and after some ill-advised public remarks about my RfA and some of its participants, I drifted into thinking that I had nothing to say; that my RfA happened the way it did because I deserved it, and I deserved it because I am a dumb and unpleasant person.
If you want a diary of my experience of my RfA, there you go. I still don't think I can make a useful debrief of the event itself, coming back to this page in January 2024. But I think I can offer useful observations and suggestions for people who have failed RfA, are failing RfA, or are considering RfA. Below, I've organized my ruminations and advice according to where you find yourself in your RfA. In #Before is my warning against RfA, and advice if you choose to proceed. In #During is my advice for keeping your RfA experience as smooth as possible. And in #After is my final reflection of my RfA, and my advice for the aftermath of your RfA.
The first piece of advice I'd offer for someone considering RfA is to think twice. I might also say, and previously have said, that you shouldn't. If you are sick, stressed, short on time, anxious, don't. You can crush an RfA 200 to nothing, like Trialpears did at his ( courtesy ping), and it will still be stressful – Just ask Trialpears. An RfA will not be good for your health. Just think about what you are doing. You are going before the entire community, and observers, to ask for a judgment of your character and abilities. The consequences of an RfA, and especially an unsuccessful one, can be immense. But if I can't dissuade you, then here is some advice for avoiding a tumultuous RfA, or coping with having a rocky RfA.
Of the thousands of days that have thus far comprised my life, the first day of my RfA ranks among the best. To paraphrase one of my nominators, "it's nice to know you're a valued member of the community". It was very uplifting to learn that a lot of people thought I was OK and were willing to support me. I suspect this is true for a lot of RfA candidates. And that it lasts exactly as long as it takes for your candidacy to get its first substantial, relevant opposes. I'll digress and emphasis this, because sometimes first oppose votes have very weak rationales, which almost always attract a lot of eyebrow raising. These opposes can be really annoying, but don't worry about them – when I got my first oppose, which was of that caliber, an unnamed admin messaged me on Discord, "That oppose is dumb and will only get you more supports". Incorrect in my case, but spot-on for other RfAs.
After that first day, RfA is an intensely lonely and stressful experience, and it can get worse. A rough RfA will thoroughly batter you, your morale, and perhaps your credibility. It can be full of bad omens and worse happenings. If it isn't, it can still be pretty nail biting. Especially if you believe in omens. Many of these arise by not observing my advice above, but many others may arise during your RfA. As an example, if, after the first 48 hours of your RfA, there is a lack of some prominent names among your supporters, prepare for trouble. You should also worry if a sizeable proportion of the support your candidacy is based on who your nominators are – it's a sign that you don't have name recognition. If you are getting questions like, "Is this your Reddit account", someone may be fishing for a more acceptable reason to cast a vote in opposition to your candidacy than "I dislike you."
Of the thousands of days that have thus far comprised my life, the fourth day of my RfA (third day in UTC) ranks among the worst. It's not easy to wake up to ~50 new oppose votes, and especially when you can't laugh them off; especially when they are cast by names you know and respect. But them's the brakes. In an unfair world, there are some oppose votes you don't deserve, but also some you definitely do. It is also spiritually and emotionally taxing to watch the fighting that can happen in, over, and because of an RfA. The more an RfA goes off the rails, the sharper your partisans' knives become until they detach from all other aspects of the RfA and start stabbing people. So how do you keep your RfA on the rails, or steer it back there?
A lot makes an RfA, good and bad, smooth and rough, successful and unsuccessful. The aftermath of an RfA is also made up of many things. A successful, and even smooth, RfA is still stressful. A successful but rough RfA will leave you with a mop and a lot of baggage. But an unsuccessful RfA will leave you, at the least, with the stress and the baggage. An unsuccessful RfA will sap your morale. An unsuccessful RfA may introduce you to a lot of editors as "that one failed RfA". An unsuccessful RfA will hurt your chances at a future RfA, especially if you fumble in the aftermath. And all this assumes a basic, not-a-disaster unsuccessful RfA like the average "not quite yet". The consequences of a rough, or failed, or rough and failed RfA can be much, much worse and can be made much, much worse.
Allow me to briefly journal the aftermath of my RfA. Firstly, I should say that it was unique in two respects. First, it was unique to me for my failures in the roles of being a decent human being, editor, and candidate. Second, it was an extreme example of the process and even of unsuccessful RfAs. It closed after four days of pride and then conflict and rejection, destroyed my confidence in myself as an editor, member of the Wikimedia community, and as a person. I came away very depressed and angry at myself and some choice participants. I considered hanging up my pen. I considered changing my name, or starting over with a new account. I even considered killing myself. I didn't handle the aftermath well. An admin who had supported my candidacy later messaged me, "I think because of your RfA you're in a worse place to be[come] an admin."
This is all to say that my RfA and its aftermath was traumatic and, again, unique (I hope). But the feeling of having failed yourself, your nominators, and your comrades, the loss of self confidence, the disappointment, resentment, and maybe even humiliation are not unique to me and my RfA. Those are commonalities across all failed RfAs. Those are the natural consequences of a community into which you've invested a lot of time saying to you, "I DO NOT TRUST YOU". A lot of editors who have been denied a mop gave up editing Wikipedia, or dramatically scaled back their participation in the project. The failure of my candidacy left me feeling deeply humiliated, resentful, and ashamed of myself. A year after my RfA, I still felt unworthy of the respect of other editors, stopped doing the work that led me to ask for the mop in the first place, and increasingly avoided interaction with other editors.
This need not be you a year after your RfA. But if it is, that's OK. There's a lot of precedent on and off of Wikipedia for bouncing back from a setback like a failed RfA. You can learn from my mistakes, and from the examples of others. For example: if for some reason you still want to become an admin, consider that there are several admins who have failed RfA – sometimes several times – and passed later. Check them out if you want to run again. There is much to do after an RfA, and especially for a bad and unsuccessful RfA. So let me advise you about the aftermath.