SINCE WE’RE ON THE TOPIC OF GENDER: I’ve been doing this work long enough to know that anytime you talk about social difference you open yourself up not just to debate but to potential misunderstanding. Some argue that addressing differences reinforces stereotypes. Others prefer not to mention gender differences at all, seeing difference as synonymous with conflict. Still others may misconstrue points raised here to mean that I believe men to be a bunch of overly confident blowhards. Or the opposite—that men have it all together and women are insecure shrinking violets. Neither, of course, is true.
You and I both know that all women are not one way or all men another. Still, when speaking about gender differences, it is impossible to avoid making certain “genderalizations,” and this book is no exception. With that, I ask your permission to use men and women here as shorthand, recognizing that discussions of differences of any sort can only be statements about averages.
How to Get the Most from This Book
As trite as it sounds, the more you put into this book, the more you’ll get out of it. That may seem obvious, but I’ve met plenty of people who tell me they’ve read all the advice books out there but “nothing worked.” My question to them is always the same: “Did you apply the advice?” The answer is always no. It’s always easier to keep reading than it is to stop and do the exercises, and trying on new behaviors does require you to stretch in sometimes uncomfortable ways. Yet it’s only by actively engaging in the process that we learn.
I know the impostor syndrome can cause great anguish, which is precisely why I’ve tried to bring a bit of levity to a subject that can carry such an emotional punch. It may seem impossible now, but I guarantee that by the end of this book you’ll laugh at the absurdity of fully capable people—yourself included—feeling like impostors, fakes, and frauds. As the great Bugs Bunny once said, “Don’t take life too seriously. You’ll never get out alive.”
Finally, the fact that you’re reading this book tells me you’re ready to “think different.” That you’ve decided once and for all that the time has come to see yourself as others do. I want everyone to know just how bright and capable you really are. But the person I most want to acknowledge your brilliance is you.
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Feel Like an Impostor? Join the Club
The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.
—Bertrand Russell
You don’t have to look far to find intelligent, competent, talented women who feel anything but. Reflecting on her early days as a rising star at Revlon and later Avon, Joyce Roché, the former president and CEO of Girls Inc., remembers thinking, “Somewhere, deep inside, you don’t believe what they say. You think it’s a matter of time before you stumble and ‘they’ discover the truth. You’re not supposed to be here. We knew you couldn’t do it. We should have never taken a chance on you.”1
When entrepreneur Liz Ryan, founder and CEO of WorldWIT, a women’s online discussion community, won the Stevie, the business equivalent of an Oscar, she didn’t feel like a winner. As she took the stage in New York to receive her award from Bill Rancic of The Apprentice, all Ryan could think was, Who the hell am I? I’m just a mom with an overflowing laundry room and a two-year-old with applesauce in his hair.2
Countless other women feel the same way. After graduating near the top of her class, a bright engineering major named LaTonya* was accepted into a highly competitive doctoral program. Instead of feeling proud, she was worried, telling me, “I was certain they’d made a mistake. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Dawn, desperate to get off the fast track, invested thousands of dollars and considerable amounts of time training to become an executive coach. Two years and a hundred coaching hours later, she had yet to hang out her shingle, explaining, “I can’t shake the feeling that I faked my way through the program.”
What you’ve just seen is the impostor syndrome in action. What about you?
Take the Quiz
Do you chalk your success up to luck, timing, or computer error?
Do you believe “If I can do it, anybody can”?
Do you agonize over the smallest flaws in your work?
Are you crushed by even constructive criticism, seeing it as evidence of your ineptness?
When you do succeed, do you secretly feel like you fooled them again?
Do you worry that it’s a matter of time before you’re “found out”?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, then you of all people know it doesn’t really matter how much acclaim you’ve received, how many degrees you’ve earned, or how high you’ve risen. True, there are a lot of people who regard you as intelligent or talented, perhaps even brilliant. But you’re not one of them. In fact, you have profound doubts about your abilities. No matter what you’ve accomplished or what people think, deep down you’re convinced that you are an impostor, a fake, and a fraud.
Welcome to the Club
Despite the fact that we’ve never met, I suspect I already know a lot about you. For starters, you probably seem remarkably able and accomplished to the outside world. But secretly you believe you are merely passing for competent. When you do manage to nail the presentation, ace the exam, or get the job—which you almost always do—you see yourself as lucky or industrious, never intrinsically good at what you do. People who know or work with you have no idea that you lie awake at night wondering when they will finally discover what an incompetent sham you really are.
I also happen to know that you are intelligent, even though you don’t always feel that way. Part of you knows this too. It’s just that it’s tough for you to maintain a consistent image of yourself as smart. And while we’re on the subject, I don’t necessarily mean you’re book-smart. Although there’s a pretty good chance you have at least one degree—perhaps even two or three.
You’re also an achiever who by most standards is considered successful—although here too you may struggle to see yourself that way. I’m not talking just about achieving wealth, fame, or status (although you very well may have). You don’t have to have graduated first in your class or made it to the top of any ladder. But you do have to have achieved something to feel fraudulent about. Usually it’s something you didn’t expect of yourself, or have not yet mastered, at least not to your ridiculously high standards. Am I close? I thought so.
The Impostor Club has untold millions of members around the world. It’s made up of women and men of all races, religions, and socioeconomic classes. They come from a wide range of educational backgrounds from high school dropouts to multiple Ph.D.’s, from such diverse fields as law enforcement, music, and medicine, and from entry level to CEO.
Finally, a Name for the Feelings
You may not even have known that these vague yet overwhelming feelings of self-doubt and angst actually have a name. I didn’t either, not until my first year in graduate school when I was introduced to a 1978 paper titled “The Impostor Phenomenon in High Achieving Women” by Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes. At the time both psychologists were at Georgia State University, where they observed that many of their students who excelled academically admitted during counseling that they felt their success was undeserved.
At its heart, the impostor syndrome, as it’s more commonly known, refers to people who have a persistent belief in their lack of intelligence, skills, or competence. They are convinced that other people’s praise and recognition of their accomplishments is undeserved, chalking up their achievements to chance, charm, connections, and other external factors. Unable to internalize or feel deserving of their success, they continually doubt their ability to repeat past successes. When they do succeed they feel relief rather than joy.
You may find that these feelings fade over time as you get more knowledge and experience under your belt. Or like many, you may experience impostor feelings consistently over th
e entire course of your career. For some people, the feelings of faking it extend into other roles, such as parenting and relationships. For instance, mothers who work outside of the home who try to pass off store-bought pies as homemade so as not to feel judged by the stay-at-home moms at the school fund-raiser. Or feigning interest on a date when you feel anything but.
The fraudulent feelings we’re talking about here have to do with insecurities related to your knowledge or skills and as such occur primarily in academic and professional arenas. Not surprisingly, impostor feelings crop up most during times of transition or when faced with a new challenge, such as tackling an unfamiliar or high-profile assignment.
No one knows for sure how long the impostor syndrome has been in existence. For all we know, the first cave artist brushed off admiring grunts with “Oh, this old painting? Any Neanderthal could have done it.” What is known is that the phenomenon is remarkably common. How common? In a study of successful people conducted by psychologist Gail Matthews, a whopping 70 percent reported experiencing impostor feelings at some point in their life.3
For the record, the impostor syndrome has nothing to do with you literally pretending to be someone you’re not. Nor do you behave like real frauds, who actually do cheat their way to the top. In fact, people who identify with the impostor syndrome have proven to be less likely than non-impostors to engage in academic dishonesty such as plagiarism or cheating.4
It’s also easy to misconstrue the impostor syndrome as just a fancy name for low self-esteem. It’s not. Some studies have been able to link the two. But the fact that others have failed to find a strong connection tells us it’s possible to feel insecure without feeling like a fraud. That’s not to say you don’t sometimes struggle with self-esteem (who doesn’t?). However, that you identify with this syndrome at all suggests that your self-esteem is at least solid enough for you to set and achieve your goals. And achieve you have.
“Sure I’m Successful—but I Can Explain All That”
There’s plenty of evidence to prove your success—good grades, promotions, raises, status, recognition, perhaps even awards and other accolades. But in your mind none of that matters. Like all impostors you are a master at coming up with ways to explain away your successes. See if you recognize yourself in any of these statements.
I got lucky. A perennial favorite is to chalk accomplishments up to chance. You think, “I may have lucked out this time, but next time I may not be so fortunate.”
I was just in the right place at the right time or The stars were right. A candidate selected for a plum executive post believes it’s because the selection committee drank a bit too much wine at dinner and the alcohol clouded their judgment.
It’s because they like me. Being likable offers another handy hat on which to hang your success. You could be class valedictorian and still tell yourself, “It’s only because the teachers liked me.”
If I can do it, anyone can. You’re convinced that your success has to do with the supposed simplicity of the task. A postdoctoral student in astrophysics from the California Institute of Technology told me, “I figure if I can get a Ph.D. in astrophysics from Cal Tech, anyone can.” (I had to break it to her that most people, me included, can’t even balance their checkbooks.)
They must let anybody in. You secretly believe that your success is a result of others’ low standards. When a college administrator got word that she’d been accepted to a graduate program at Smith College, she told me she had second thoughts about attending. “I thought, what kind of standards do they have there?” It’s the impostor version of the Groucho Marx joke: “I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member.”
Someone must have made a terrible mistake. Maria Rodriguez and Linda Brown went to different colleges in different decades. Despite having never met, they said exactly the same thing: “I have a pretty common name. Deep down, I think that the admissions office mixed up my application with someone else who had the same name and they let the wrong person in.”
I had a lot of help. There is certainly nothing wrong with sharing credit. But to you, any form of support, collaboration, or cooperation automatically cancels out your own contribution.
I had connections. Instead of seeing connections as giving you a leg up, you’re convinced that knowing someone is the only reason you got into school, landed the job, or got the contract.
They’re just being nice. The belief that people who speak highly of your work are just being polite is so thoroughly ingrained that whenever I get to this place in my presentation, I need only utter the first few words: They’re just being—and the entire female audience finishes the sentence with nice.
They felt sorry for me. Impostors who return to college in midlife have been known to wonder out loud if perhaps the professors aren’t just taking pity on them. Knowing they’re trying to juggle kids, a job, and school, they suspect that their professors are intentionally going easy on them.
Excuses, Excuses
A postdoctoral student with an impressive curriculum vitae insists, “I just look good on paper.”
A graduate student who gets into a research program that is so competitive only one new student is admitted per year decides she was chosen because the school was looking for diversity … and she was from the Midwest.
A student majoring in microbiology engineering quickly sets the record straight to those who are impressed by her field of study by explaining that it just “sounds impressive because it has a long name.”
Fooled ’Em Again
On one hand, you have to admit that it takes an exceptional mind to think up so many creative excuses for success. So take a moment to pat yourself on the back right now. But don’t congratulate yourself too long because you also have a problem, don’t you? After all, if you are unable to claim your accomplishments on a gut, visceral level, then when you are confronted with actual evidence of your abilities, it’s unclear to you how you got there. Even though your achievements clearly emanate from you, you feel oddly disconnected from them. And without this connection between yourself and your accomplishments, the only possible explanation you’re left with is that you’ve fooled them.
Rationally you would think success would alleviate feelings of fraudulence. The more successful you are, the more evident it is that you really do know what you’re doing. But for you just the opposite happens. Instead of reducing the pressure, success only makes it worse because now you have a reputation to defend. Instead of being cause for celebration, things like praise, financial rewards, and status can feel oppressive. You think, Now they’ll expect me to be that good every time—and I have no idea how I pulled it off the first time.
Rather than spurring you on, success may lead you to drop out altogether. This is especially true if you are perceived to be an “overnight” success. A rapid ascent to the top of the hill suddenly lands you in unfamiliar territory. You wonder, How did this happen? Did I pay enough dues? Do I deserve to be here? Whether success came early or late in your career, the prevailing sense among impostors is, They’ll expect me to be competent down the road, and I’m not at all sure I will be. That’s because in your mind, one success is unrelated to the next. Rather than being cumulative, each accomplishment is its own sum game. This makes success a very tenuous thing. You think, Sure, I’ve done well up until now …
But Wait Until Next Time
You know your good fortune can’t last forever. So instead of basking in your achievement, you live in fear that your ineptness will finally be discovered and that you will be humiliated—or worse. Because you’re convinced that each new endeavor will be your undoing, your run-up to each test, presentation, or challenge brings tremendous anxiety and self-doubt. You think, One false move and I’m out. This apprehension is typically followed by success, and finally by skeptical relief. It is a pattern that endlessly repeats itself.
Of course, in your mind “next time” is
when you’ll finally be unmasked. Like Deb, a law-firm partner, who despite a solid track record approached each new case with a growing dread. To her own surprise, one day she found herself absentmindedly perusing the want ads for waitressing jobs. As she struggled to understand her own behavior, she realized that back when she was a waitress during college at least she knew what she was doing.
There may be days when the notion of being unmasked actually brings a tinge of relief. As humiliating as being exposed as an impostor would be, you can’t help but imagine how much easier your life could be if you could just drop this charade of trying to act like a respected, capable professional. Besides, you know you could always learn how to say, Would you like fries with that, sir? or do something else you believe to be “more on my level.”
Even if you don’t harbor such fantasies, you’re well aware of what it’s like to be perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Jodie Foster it first happened when she put her acting career on hold to pursue an undergraduate degree and then again after she won the best actress Oscar for The Accused. “I thought it was a fluke,” Foster explained in a 60 Minutes interview. “The same way when I walked on the campus at Yale. I thought everybody would find out, and then they’d take the Oscar back. They’d come to my house, knocking on the door, ‘Excuse me, we meant to give that to someone else. That was going to Meryl Streep.’ ”5
For some people the fear and anxiety caused by the impostor syndrome can be debilitating. One first-time manager was so consumed with the idea that she’d bluffed her way into the job that she experienced chest pains. Fearing the worst, her assistant called an ambulance. Fortunately it turned out to be an anxiety attack. Your fear of exposure is unlikely to land you in the hospital, but the stress does have consequences.
The Secret Thoughts of Successful Women: Why Capable People Suffer from the Impostor Syndrome and How to Thrive in Spite of It Page 2