When I received the email last week notifying me of my promotion to Associate Professor, I experienced a fleeting moment of pride. This milestone represented years of hard work, positive student reviews, and a rigorous evaluation process affirming my qualifications. By all measures, I had earned this career advancement.

Yet despite the extensive vetting and validation from others, imposter syndrome quickly reared its head, muting my sense of celebration. My next thought was “They must have made a mistake” and “My colleagues will see I’m not qualified.” This accomplishment, which should have felt like a triumph, instead became further proof that I was an imposter who didn’t truly belong. Once again, imposter syndrome twisted achievement into challenge, diminishing my milestone.

Even a Power Woman can feel like a fraud

A few weeks ago I watched my friend, Kasia, deliver a speech at the Global Power Women Conference. She highlighted all of the accomplishments she’s had as a “power woman” underscoring the theme of her speech about what it is like to achieve and thrive in a male-dominated world. The part that resonated most with the audience of African dignitaries, NGO leaders, and me was how despite these accomplishments she still felt like a fraud who only by luck achieved what she did.

Kasia’s story resonated deeply, mirroring my own experience with imposter syndrome – that persistent internalized fear of being revealed as a fraud.

Imposter syndrome is a widespread phenomenon, but is particularly common among marginalized groups, including LGBTQ+ academics like myself. The emphasis on individual feelings of inadequacy can unfortunately obscure the systemic biases we face. Outward achievement does not automatically confer inner belonging. We may feel heightened pressure to overperform in order to be seen as legitimate. When academic cultures favor only certain types of productivity and research, we can be left feeling dismissed and fraudulent. Those of us shouldering roles like heavy teaching and service loads central to the university mission, but undervalued in certain aspects of promotion, are particularly susceptible.

Origins of Imposter Syndrome: My LGBTQ+ Journey

While there are many possible origins to my imposter syndrome, I think growing up as a gay kid had a lot to do with it. When you are coming of age you are searching for how and where to belong. And when you’re different than what heteronormative society deems normal, peer groups might not accept you, society and media frames you as something different and even as someone to be laughed at or mocked. And we do it to ourselves, creating personas that we hope people will like as a way to cope. The community itself is difficult to belong within — how does one identify as a gay man? What are the expectations? A lot of progress has been made since I was growing up in the 1980s and 90s, but those gains are unequal across cultures and socio-political groups.

As a cis-white man I have some ability to hide, so I can only imagine how difficult it is when being queer is intersectional, and those challenges are increased due to marginalized class, ability, economics, culture, and language.

I’m fortunate to be in a field — art and design, and at an institution in a city that is progressive. I work with many other folks who are LGBTQ+ and I generally feel safe with that aspect of my life. But those formative years and a society that is scapegoats larger societal challenges by turning focus to LGBTQ political issues is still painful and alienating: “Don’t Say, gay!” Coupled with an academic culture that is historically toxic and competitive, it is no surprise that I’d have these feelings of being a fraud.

Unpacking Imposter Syndrome: My Personal Struggles

My imposter syndrome manifests in multiple forms:

• Harsh self-critique. After speaking up in faculty meetings or other professional settings, I endlessly dissect what I said, obsessing over how my words might have come across. I assume any falter or imperfection probably made me look incapable or unintelligent.
• Seeking validation. I find myself constantly needing reassurance and praise from students and colleagues. Even positive student evaluations or successful projects provide only temporary relief before the doubts creep back in. I downplay my accomplishments and strengths, while seeking external proof those things exist at all.
• Comparisons. I constantly measure myself against more seasoned faculty, thinking “I should be where they are by now” or “I’ll never gain that level of respect.”
• Over-preparation. I spend excessive time rehearsing lectures, over-researching before meetings, and extensively editing emails. The thought of being caught unprepared haunts me.

Confronting Imposter Syndrome in the Design Classroom

The classroom is a particularly challenging place for imposter syndrome to rear its head. I found resonance in the article by Bothello and Roulet¹, where they discuss the perceptions students may hold about professors in certain fields – perceptions that can exacerbate self-doubt. As an interior design professor, I constantly second-guess the value of my discipline, one that is often trivialized compared to more “serious” fields like architecture. Coupled with being out of industry for several years, I feel an immense pressure to prove my worth.

Evaluating My Pedagogical Impact

The classroom brings our imposter syndrome to the surface, confronting us with tangible evidence that we do not measure up to some ideal academic standard. But recognizing this propensity for harsh self-judgment helps diminish its power over us. My expertise has inherent worth, even if undervalued by some. I know interior design is a credible discipline in its own right, though some students feel compelled to validate their careers with architecture graduate degrees. When this happens, I take it as a reflection of pervasive attitudes rather than a personal failing. It stings, but also presents an opportunity: to confidently instill the value of my field in students, challenging misconceptions that it alone is not “enough.” Reclaiming pride in my unique contributions allows me to serve students more meaningfully – not perfectly, but authentically.

Embracing your Inner Imposter

As LGBTQ scholars, feeling like an imposter can seem inevitable – we often find ourselves in spaces where we don’t fully belong. But rather than viewing imposter syndrome solely as a personal failing, we should recognize it as an understandable response to institutions that were not built for people like us.

The feeling of being an imposter emerges as a way to protect oneself in environments that still harbor discrimination. By naming imposter syndrome, we make the struggle individual rather than indicting the larger systems causing this self-doubt.

Rather than fighting to eliminate imposter syndrome, we can reframe it as an asset. Feeling like outsiders allows us to identify lingering biases, as Melissa Gonzalez discusses:

“I do not want to lose my insider/outsider perspective, I want to be here yet not quite here. I want to continue to see as an imposter, to ask myself constantly why I am here and to reckon with not belonging fully.”²

While we may not feel fully at home in academic spaces, this detachment can motivate us to envision new possibilities. Our perceived flaws make us more attuned to what remains unjust, uncomfortable or exclusionary.

Not to mention, as Stephen Gadsby posits, imposter syndrome can help to feel motivated:

“Self-deceptive imposter syndrome involves a strong desire to succeed in a challenging domain, where the pathway to success is opaque. This ensures that people are willing to exert considerable effort to succeed and, given the difficulty of succeeding, this is precisely what is required.”³

Imposter syndrome will likely persist, to some extent, as long as LGBTQ people remain underrepresented in academia and attacked in the media and through political discourse. But by reframing it, we can lessen self-blame and use these feelings productively. Our so-called “syndrome” makes us more determined to transform ivory towers into spaces where differences are welcomed, not merely tolerated. We do belong here – and through our work – and just being present, we can help others feel they belong too.

1. Bothello, Joel and Thomas J. Roulet. “The Imposter Syndrome, or the Mis-Representation of Self in Academic Life.” Journal of Management Studies, 56 no. 4 (2018): 854-861. Accessed October 2, 2023. https://doi.org/10.1111/joms.12344 ↩︎
2. Gonzále, Melissa M. “Queer Battle Fatigue, Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Imposter Inside Me.” GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies, 26, no. 2 (2020): 236-238. Accessed October 2, 2023. https://doi.org/10.1215/10642684-8141802. ↩︎
3. Gadsby, Stephen. “Imposter Syndrome and Self-Deception.” Australian Journal of Philosophy, 100, no. 2 (2021): 247-261. Accessed October 2, 2023. https://doi.org/10.1080/00048402.2021.1874445. ↩︎

additional sources!

1. Arakawa, Shelley. “Dare to Lead: How Administrators Can Overcome Imposter Syndrome.” The Chronicle of Higher Education. August 22, 2022. https://www-chronicle-com.libproxy.newschool.edu/article/dare-to-lead-how-administrators-can-overcome-impostor-syndrome.
2. Olberding, Amy. “The Outsider.” Aeon. Aeon Media Group Ltd., March 6, 2018. https://doi.org/https://aeon.co/essays/how-useful-is-impostor-syndrome-in-academia.
3. Young, Valerie. “Thinking Your Way Out of Imposter Syndrome.” Ted Archive. June 5, 2017. Video, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7v-GG3SEWQ.