You may think you’re alone in your battle with Imposter Syndrome, but actually, for something that feels so personal and private, there are many others facing it everyday too.

Written by Rachel Horrocks

Disgraceful Contributor

Imagine that whenever you achieve something – whether it be in a professional, academic or social capacity – a small, almost insignificant voice whispers a stream of insults through your subconscious mind. 

It might say, “you don’t actually deserve this and soon everyone else will realise it” or “you’re a fraud, you’re only in this position because you got lucky”. The voice doesn’t care about your credentials, it doesn’t care about all your hard work and it certainly doesn’t care about your mental health. 

Writing this now, it’d be nice to think I’d simply ignore the voice and know it’s talking nonsense, but for some unknowable reason, to me and so many others, that’s just not the case. This cruel voice is the personification of what academics call ‘Imposter Syndrome’; an experience that refers to feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy which can cause individuals to distrust their own abilities, achievements and talent, fearing they’ll soon be outed as a fraud despite the capabilities and credentials they posses.

Though people from all types of backgrounds may suffer with Imposter Syndrome, it seems those from minority groups in the workplace are disproportionately affected – groups which have both past and present suffered real, unimagined, societal doubt and criticism (felt by women, Black, Latinx and Asian communities, those from low-socioeconomic backgrounds and more). 

For some, Imposter Syndrome may be a trauma response stemming from a turbulent upbringing. For others, there may be no solid explanation other than striving for perfectionism while maintaining an internal doubt of themselves and a strong fear of failure. Some of our most intelligent and prominent famous figures to date have suffered with Imposter Syndrome, with civil rights activist Maya Angelou once writing, “…they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody, and they’re going to find out.”. So, regardless of societal success or however many awards or promotions a person receives, if they’ve got it in them to doubt themselves, their inner chatter will find a way. 

When feeling the effects of the syndrome, you believe anything you’ve achieved has been done by fluke, a strike of luck and good timing – whether that be a promotion at work, in my case, an acceptance to university, or anything more. 

When I began researching Imposter Syndrome, the first name to appear was Professor Pauline Rose Clance. A pioneer in the field of what she calls the ‘Imposter Phenomenon’, a study she undertook on undergraduate patients when working as a therapist is famous in the field. Clance found virtually all of her patients felt they didn’t deserve their student status, believed they achieved this by accident or, in some cases, put it down to administrative error. As I read this, I realised I have struggled with Imposter Syndrome throughout my entire university life. 

I got into the University of Leeds through a programme which enables those from either a low socio-economic background and, or, the first in their family to attend university to gain a place without the necessary grades, as long as they are only one grade below the boundary. So, the entry requirement was AAB and I got in with ABB. 

The logical thing to do here would be to think to myself: “wow, well done Rach, first in your family to go to uni”. Instead, I developed this strange complex whereby I had to prove to myself that I was worthy of my place. I believed everyone on my course was more intelligent than me, had better ideas, were more authentic and that I was there purely out of luck rather than on the merit of my abilities and potential. I didn’t tell any of my friends about how I got my place, and would lie in every discussion of A-Level grades. 

Looking back now, I think this really hindered my time at university and even held me back academically. I would begin and finish essays with weeks to spare out of panic that something would happen, and would obsess over the small details rather than allowing myself to think creatively. 

It affected my social life too. Most of my friends went to boarding or private school and, if not, they had been to a grammar school, so by default I assumed they were smarter than me. I would be afraid to participate in conversation out of fears I would say the wrong thing and out myself as the unintelligent fraud. This only made my Imposter Syndrome worse, as I felt I was acting even when I was socialising, and that very few of my friends actually knew me. I felt I was not only an academic imposter, but a social imposter in every sense of the word too. 

Writing it now sounds ridiculous, but that’s the thing about Imposter Syndrome – you’re isolated with these thoughts living in self-deprecating ignorance, feeling as if you’re the only person to experience this when, likelihood is, most of the people around you are suffering through the exact same problem.  

During my third year I became more confident in both myself and my work, and though I’ve found there’s no specific formula to beating Imposter Syndrome, there are better ways to cope than to simply get on with it to the point of inevitable burnout. 

The first point of action I took was to confide in someone I trust. Telling someone how you feel, it’s very likely they will have experienced it too. Knowing you’re not alone is half of the battle. After doing this, I soon realised one of the most crucial steps to take in order to better cope with Imposter Syndrome is to address your mindset. Accepting that you can’t control everything and focusing on your progress at a more individual level, this is where true progress and accomplishment lies. 

It’s critical to know you’re allowed to take up space. Regardless of your gender, race, sexuality, ethnicity or socio-economic background, and whether that be in your place in university or at your job, you deserve it – and remember, if you didn’t you wouldn’t be there. 

The thing that’s helped me most has been coming to the realisation that academic intelligence, regardless of whether you possess it or not, isn’t necessarily the best judgement of someone’s actual intellect. Rather, a person’s ability to express empathy, emotional intelligence and ability to build meaningful relationships are equally as important in both academia and the workplace. 

Don’t sacrifice these innate qualities in yourself on the search for a perfectionism that doesn’t actually exist.