The Anti-Imposter Phenomenon
I know I can…be what I wanna be…if I work hard at it…I’ll be what I want to be. — Mantra, Black Educational Excellence Program.
Anything is possible with God. — My mom, and also a common Christian church belief
By Aldene Zeno, MD
I have anti-imposter syndrome. Some may call it a sense of exceptionalism, or perhaps a nicer way to say it is I was raised with a healthy sense of self-worth. One friend called it my “immigrant’s optimism” passed on through my mom, a Filipina immigrant. However you say it, I have always known that I can, or I could if I work hard enough. I often take this a step further; I know that I have everything within me to achieve whatever I want. Imposter syndrome, on the other hand, has been described as perceived “intellectual phoniness,” or when someone thinks that they are not bright enough despite having outstanding achievements.
I have a colleague that told me she hates that people, especially women, and especially women of color, are being told they have imposter syndrome. Similarly, I believe it may apply only in specific situations. I think it’s less common than we think, and in labeling someone with it, we may be doing some harm. I share the following story to illustrate why I think the imposter label may not be about you, and more about them, the one doing the labeling.
My story is as follows: In a conversation with a coworker, they made an offensive comment to my face not once, but twice. There are several things I respect about this individual, however, we differ on their views regarding diversity in the workplace. Coming from my background, initiatives that prioritized racial diversity not only gave me opportunities that I otherwise could not afford because I grew up poor, but they also surrounded me with like-minded people. We were often the only Black and Brown faces in our classes, committees, or workplaces, but we could come together periodically and support each other. There was nothing like being around bright minds who just get it. So the first time that my colleague shared their opposing opinion on diversity initiatives, I took it personally but tried to avoid discussing it further.
Another reason why I “put up and shut up” in that situation was due to our power differential — this person had a supervisory role. Submitting to authority is engrained in me. I was raised a church girl. I was coached most of my childhood as a year-round athlete in middle school and high school. I served my time for years as a physician in training, low in the medicine hierarchy. I’m by no means acquiescent, but I’m still learning to be confrontational when it matters.
The second time that the individual made the same offensive comment to me became a conversation. The comment came out over an informal dinner, so several days later I set up a time to chat privately. Beforehand, I discussed the incident with my boyfriend. I even wrote out how I wanted to respond. I was nervous, because I wanted to say exactly what I meant.
The conversation went well, but one of their responses didn’t sit well with me. I explained that one of the reasons their comment was offensive to me was that it played into a narrative that people of color, and that I, did not deserve success based on merit. I was experiencing other inequalities in the job, and I was feeling disrespected due to scheduling issues and unfair compensation. It made me feel as though I was a lesser-valued member of the team. I also worried how this person’s comments would affect others’ perceptions of me, particularly if it was repeated in front of our students or physicians in training. What was my coworker’s response to my feeling devalued? “Oh, it sounds like you’re having imposter syndrome.”
What is the line between gas-lighting and imposter syndrome?
King of Comedy D.L. Hughley once said something that really resonated with me. I heard it a while back and for the life of me, I can’t remember the interview. It’s similar to interviews he’s had about leaving the hood, like this. He said something to the extent that he knew from an early age he was not meant to stay in the hood. Despite growing up in the hood, and the hood being all that he knew, he knew that he was destined for something greater.
That sentiment captures how I also felt growing up. Yes, I often feel out of place being the only curly-haired, brown-skinned woman at physician society meetings. Growing up poor, I often feel uncomfortable in the relatively affluent world of medicine. However, I never feel like an imposter. I may feel misunderstood, or like people don’t value my unique perspectives. But I’ve long felt that I am just as smart, if not smarter than other people in the room. I have something to say, and the right audience will value that. When I was young, getting browned lettuce from the food pantry and clothes from the thrift store, I just knew in my soul that I was meant to have and be more.
“Imposter Syndrome” is a term thrown around quite often these days. My sense is that women and other marginalized groups are being told they have imposter syndrome more than others. Turns out that my hunch is right. According to this article in the Harvard Business Review, imposter syndrome, originally coined “imposter phenomenon,” originated in a 1978 study from psychotherapy Drs. Clance and Imes. The authors describes this phenomenon as an “internal experience of intellectual phonies” among a group of women despite “outstanding academic and professional accomplishments.” Their findings are based on observations of 150 women.
As is par for the course for research back in the day, the article does not describe the research subjects’ demographics other than that they were highly successful women, many as PhD’s and other career professionals. I suspect that the group was predominantly white, with higher than average income and originally from households that were affluent. So how do we know that imposter syndrome is a universal phenomenon? I’m not a social scientist, though having published research in clinical sciences, I’m not convinced that there’s enough evidence here to support this as a wide-spread theory. How would the results change for women at the intersection of poverty, or non-cis gender expression? For women that are not heterosexual, who are also religious minorities, are racially under-representated, or are immigrants? What if a person is not accepted for their differences, or worse, they are put down because of them? According to Pew Research, women earn 84% of what men do, and this is worse for people of color. How might it make her feel if her currency, for example, money and time in the workplace, is less than her male colleagues?
I suggest that women are given plenty of reasons to feel inferior. I worry that if someone accepts the label of “imposter syndrome,” they are not empowered to look outside of themselves and recognize the legitimacy of their feelings. In my own therapy, I was able to recognize when I had imposter tendencies. More importantly, I learned that I internalized things happening to me as my flaws. For example, I worried that I was less valuable to my job. This caused me to want to prove myself by taking on extra tasks, and I was especially conscious of a need to “prove myself” because I did not want anyone thinking less of me as a woman of color. But the fact is that there were budget and scheduling issues within my entire department, and not specific to me. I was experiencing unfairness compared to my colleagues because I had the least control over my schedule as the most junior of the faculty. I paid someone $80 per therapy session to learn about things like toxic guilt, unjust responsibility, and shame. I’m grateful that I had this knowledge sitting across from my colleague who tried to label my feelings as “imposter syndrome.” The imposter is not me, it’s you and this system, I thought.
Going from the imposter to anti-imposter
The 1978 “imposter phenomenon” article does offer therapeutic suggestions. The recommendations are actually similar to tools my own therapist highlighted from the Brene Brown book, “I Thought it was Just Me (but it isn’t).” One of the suggestions is to talk about your experiences with people you trust. Drs. Clance and Imes suggest group therapy sessions. I find talking to close friends or my romantic partner helpful, even as they’re not in medicine. Journaling may be another good outlet. For me, writing this blog post has been therapeutic. They’re all ways that provide insight into your own experiences.
Another therapeutic suggestion is role-play. In my case, I went as far as telling my colleague that I took their comment personally. The step that I took is one that I felt comfortable doing because of the relationship I have with that individual. Similarly, role-play can help you visualize how you think someone would respond. Imagine if you share your perception of yourself. What would someone hearing that likely say? Or, imagine your own perceptions coming out of someone else’s mouth. What if your close friend/coworker said, “I don’t think I’m good enough.” Chances are you don’t see them that way (which is why you’re their friend or close coworker). It seems silly thinking of someone else, but we’re often our toughest critic.
A final suggestion I’d offer is to get out of your own head. If the voices in your head are telling you one thing, or you don’t believe the labels thrust on you, find a professional therapist, counselor, or mentor to walk you through your feelings. Force yourself to use affirmative language that may not come natural to you. Tell yourself, “I’m the most brilliant person for this task.” Or, as Beyoncé so aptly says in her song, I’m That Girl:
From the top of the morning, I shine (ah, ooh)
Right through the blinds (ah, ooh)
Touching everything in my plain view
And everything next to me gets lit up too
Words have power. Our thoughts are powerful. As an anti-imposter, if you tell yourself something affirmative you may start to believe it. Even better, it may come true.
