Imposter Syndrome

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/0c/a4/4b/0ca44b31621d0d78d06a5b15183828f1.jpg

I was recently infected with Imposter Syndrome. You’ve heard of it. It infects many women. You know you have it if you feel like a fraud in your own life. If you’ve got a PhD. in Physics, for example, which I’m not saying I do - indeed, I’m saying I don’t - but if I did, and I felt like I didn’t really know what I was talking about when I was talking about physics - which I don’t, because I don’t have a PhD. in physics - but if I did, and I felt unqualified to weigh in on some topic in physics, then that would be imposter syndrome in action. 

Come to think of it, I’ve been infected with Imposter Syndrome for a long time. For example, with my book and my blog. As I thought about taking a leadership role in my own life by redefining success and sharing that with others who might be struggling with the term, I found myself wondering some of the same types of things as real, live successes wonder: Did I have anything to contribute? Was I qualified? Shouldn’t I go back to school for a PhD in Positive Psychology before continuing?

It’s very common for women, especially, to feel as if they aren’t ready to take on a challenge unless they are super-prepared. Studies show that men will apply for a job if they meet sixty percent of the listed qualifications; women, however, don’t apply unless they meet all or almost all. Women often fail to put themselves up for promotion because they feel like they need to get really, really prepared for the next step; meanwhile, many men just raise their hands and figure they will work out problems when they get there.  Recent research suggests that our culture encourages males to be brave and take risks, but encourages females to be perfect. Really, who is perfect? No wonder so many women feel like imposters.  

For example, consider this. Recently, the husband took up triathlon training with a trainer, let’s call him Roberto. This training involved open water swimming as well as stroke improvement; weight training; cycling indoors and out; yoga; and running. After several months, a bunch of Roberto’s trainees, including the husband, ranging in age from twenty to sixty-five, ran their first race, a mini-triathlon. Everyone completed it, even an obese woman and a woman with a neurological problem with her extremities. The husband has a bad knee. In other words, there were many challenges for Roberto as a teacher.

At the celebratory meal afterward, I asked Roberto if he had been triathlon coaching for a long time and if he had a lot of experience with personal training.

“No,” he said. “This was my first time. I don’t really have any experience. I work out, mostly I cycle – I work in a bike shop - but I figured, what the heck. I’m learning as I go.”

I gave the husband a look. He had trusted this guy’s advice for handling his bad knee. (It was fine.) He had trusted this guy on the open water of a lake in fifty degree weather. They all had. (No one drowned.) Roberto had succeeded. He didn’t seem to feel like an imposter. He hadn’t let doubt stop him.

Meanwhile, Readers, consider this. I recently did exactly what studies say women tend to do. There were two openings on our town’s school board. I decided I might like to run. So I started talking to people, to other board members, to board members in other districts, asking about their experience, their backgrounds, and their campaigns. I felt like before I ran, I had better attend several BOE meetings so I would know what was going on and be able to answer questions. I would have to run a whole campaign. Maybe even debate another candidate or two. Eventually, I decided I wasn’t qualified to run, so I didn’t. What do I know about education in our town, after all? I only have two children in the system. Oh, and a Master’s in Education. But I wasn’t prepared. I let the deadline to sign up pass. I then discovered that for the two openings on the Board, only two people had signed up. They had been both been selected. No campaigns necessary. No proving themselves. Just diving in. Both were men. 

I’m not saying we should take huge risks, like Roberto. But I am saying, take action. Take a power pose a la Amy Cuddy, then step forward. Hold a pencil between your teeth, which mimics the action of smiling and triggers positivity in the brain, and - much as I hate to say this now overused phrase, but it is perfect for this situation - lean in. I decided that next time there’s an opening on the board, I’m going to sign up. Imposter or no.