Understanding Imposter Syndrome in the University
If I had to describe the environment cultivated at the University of Washington, “inspiring” would be derogatory.
As with all academic institutions, “innovation” comes at the cost of student production — expending our efforts, energy, and even well-being for the progression of the school.
(From the “Role and Mission of the University,” University of Washington;)
“[T]he University fosters an environment in which its students can develop mature and independent judgment and an appreciation of the range and diversity of human achievement. The University cultivates in its students both critical thinking and the effective articulation of that thinking.”
At UW, competition is engrained in every aspect of our education, whether in program applications or the study groups we form. And though in ways it may make us better, a majority of the time we are left feeling excessively anxious or perpetually disappointed.
If I have learned anything about the college experience, it’s that “imposter syndrome” consumes it.
Imposter syndrome is defined as a feeling (or pattern of behavior) of doubting one’s own accomplishments, internalizing the fear of being exposed as a “fraud.” While many are quick to blame the pessimism or “perfectionist” nature of the individual, we often look over the ways one’s environment plays into the promotion of this mindset.
We’re taught that stress in moderation is good for us, and that nervousness acts a healthy motivator in academic settings and the workplace. Additionally, the idea that stress contributes to our survival has also been used to pacify our feelings of self-doubt. But our need for “survival” can overwhelm our desire to grow, and for many this constant expectation of high performance has made way for environment induced trauma.
In my own experience, imposter syndrome takes form in many ways.
Being force-fed the idea that I was a “gifted child” as I grew up (though I personally hate this narrative) I feel roots many of my anxieties. Small mistakes feel massive, and struggle feels like proof that I’m not “good enough” in comparison to ‘who I was’ or to be where I am today. From a young age, I’ve convinced myself that in order to succeed, I need to achieve something tangible or quantitative.
In other words, the need to produce — to “do something” or ‘’make something of myself,” has almost always controlled my being.
There’s also this internal dialogue I have that makes me feel as if I have to overcome obstacles or accomplish things on my own. In this way, asking for help makes me feel insufficient, and I’m driven to work harder than those around me in order to prove something. When I reflect on this specific feeling, I’m led to reevaluate my “place” in spaces not only dominated by able-bodied, cishet white males, but structured for them to succeed as well.
Within these production-centered institutions, imposter syndrome disproportionately affects those who fall outside of the ‘cishet white male’ standard, constantly told (both implicitly and explicitly) that we do not belong.
Systemic biases makes imposter syndrome possible, and when we uphold these beliefs and begin believing them ourselves, we plant seeds of doubt ready to harvest when we achieve.
The university can often be our first real experience with these feelings of competition and inadequacy, as every turn is guarded by a gate and “maximum occupancy” sign. In addressing the issue, it’s important to shift the narrative from ‘fixing’ the individual to ‘fixing’ the environment, creating spaces in which the individual is given the opportunity to succeed and acknowledge their success.
