I Met a Woman Who Didn’t Suffer From Imposter Syndrome

Here’s what I learned from her

“What type(s) of imposter syndrome do you have?” I ask her, reading out the assignment questions.

“I’m not sure…” she responds thoughtfully.

“The perfectionist? The superhero or the expert? Maybe the natural genius or the soloist?” I prompt.

“I don’t know…” she says slowly.

“What triggers your imposter syndrome?” I try, moving ahead to the next question on the list.

“Hm…” she muses, taking her sweet time.

I’m attending a conference for women in leadership.

We’d just listened to an engaging and electric talk about imposter syndrome from Valerie Young. This was the first time I’d heard of imposter syndrome and I resonated with everything Valerie had to say about it.

Do I regularly feel as if I’d just gotten lucky?

Definitely. My full-ride scholarship might have been a fluke… but I wasn’t going to ask too many questions. Wouldn’t want to jinx it and have it revoked.

Am I afraid I’m going to be revealed as a fraud?

Absolutely. I’m an engineer that doesn’t like calculus or physics... How far am I really going to go in my career and how long am I going to fool people?

Do I believe my achievements are solely because I work harder than everyone yet?

You bet. I might have graduated with honors on the Dean’s list, but that’s only because I didn’t party away my evenings; instead, I stayed up late dutifully studying…

Am I constantly questioning if I’m smart enough?

Without a doubt. I wouldn’t have even passed engineering if not for the help of my “actually smart” friends…

Maybe I’m not really an imposter. Maybe I just have imposter syndrome.

This is what I’m musing to myself when I’m jolted out of my thoughts by an assignment from Valerie.

Immediately, my “teacher’s pet” syndrome kicks in and I’m sitting at attention. We’re paired up randomly and given a list of questions to help explore our imposter syndrome.

We start by identifying which type(s) of imposter syndrome we have. In my case, all of them. I roll my eyes at my own internal dialogue and tell myself, “This is not a test you want to score 100% on.”

Then we’re to dig deeper into understanding why we feel the way we do. Perhaps there’s something from our childhood — an unresolved trauma or pressure from parents — or a new unfamiliar environment where we’re feeling vulnerable.

Lastly, we’re to identify what triggers in our lives exacerbate this feeling. By pinpointing specific causes, we’ll hopefully recognize these feelings as imposter syndrome rather than believing we’re truly imposters.

“I don’t think I have imposter syndrome,” she concludes flatly.

“What…?” I’m unable to hide my surprise. “Are you sure? What do you mean, you don’t have imposter syndrome?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she says firmly. “I just don’t feel it.”

I’m flabbergasted. Maybe this woman wasn’t paying attention or misunderstood what imposter syndrome was. After all, doesn’t everyone — or at least every woman — suffer from it?!

“What if you can’t answer a question?” I continue, disbelievingly.

“Then I simply say I don’t know,” she answers casually, as if there could be no other possible answer.

I feel the need to poke and prod till I find a situation where she feels like an imposter.

“But what if it’s a senior manager who’s asking you the question and he’s a really big deal and super intimidating? What if he keeps asking the same question over and over again because he’s not satisifed with your answer?” I press on.

It’s not my turn yet to answer the questions but already, I’m laying down my cards.

“Then I’ll tell him that I don’t know the answer at this moment, but I’ll find out and will follow up with him,” she shrugs nonchalantly.

I look at her mortified. The idea of simply saying “I don’t know” chills me to my bone. It leaves me with an uncomfortable ache deep in the pit of my stomach.

“I take it you feel like an imposter? Tell me then — what do you do instead of saying ‘I don’t know’?” She flips the table on me.

“I go above and beyond to prepare for any possible questions he might have for me. It takes me hours but I have to be prepared. He’s Dutch so he’s pretty blunt and to the point. But he’s also really sharp and smart and just thinks of things that I should have thought of,” I gush.

All of a sudden, I find myself pouring out all my insecurities and doubts to this amazing stranger who doesn’t suffer from imposter syndrome.

“Sounds like you’re putting a lot of time and effort into trying to answer his questions and it’s probably not healthy for you. Why do you feel like you have to answer all of his questions?” she presses.

“Because I’m the engineer? Because it’s my project? Because I’m supposed to know these kinds of things?” I stammer.

“Well, he’s the manager, isn’t he? I assume your company promotes the smart, experienced people. How many years of experience does he have? How many do you have? I’m sure you think of things someone less experienced doesn’t think of.” It’s her turn to press me.

I’m speechless. I’d never thought of it that way. All this time, I felt like I was failing as an engineer anytime I stumbled on my manager’s questions.

“As far as I see it, it’s his job to help you think of things you haven’t,” she concludes matter of factly. “After all, he’s getting paid the big bucks.”

I can’t say that this woman “cured” me of my imposter syndrome, but her perspectives have certainly helped me.

I still regularly face an onslaught of questions from managers and senior executives at work. But I’m getting better at preparing for these in a healthier, more balanced fashion. I’m embracing the 80–20 rule and pushing back against this obsession to think of every possible question I could be asked.

More importantly, I’m learning it’s okay to simply say,

“That’s a great question. I don’t know at this moment but I can find out and I’ll follow up with you.”

It’s been oddly liberating. I feel like a huge burden has been lifted off my shoulders.

No one called me out for being an imposter when I said, “I don’t know.” There was no almighty hand from the skies reaching out to snatch away my engineering designation. I didn’t get fired from my job and I’ve even received feedback about how well I handle these tough situations.

Life continues just fine when I don’t have all the answers. I’m embracing the freedom of admitting “I don’t know.”

It’s been a few years since this fateful conversation and I still think back on this woman’s wise words to me. If they can help me, hopefully, they can help others too.

What are you waiting for? It’s time to tackle your imposter syndrome head-on.