Imposter Syndrome
And the nasty things it whispers to me
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So I’ve got this friend and colleague who spent a fair bit of time schooling me on my feelings around Imposter Syndrome recently, and I think it’s only fair to bring part of that conversation into the light of day so that you can experience it, too. Maybe this will feel relevant to some part of your life. Maybe it will feel utterly foreign. If nothing else, I’ll feel better saying it to you.
What the heck is Imposter Syndrome? It’s this feeling that you’re not as smart or talented or worthy as someone else thinks you are. It’s that nagging feeling that someone is “going to find out the truth” about you eventually. That they will know you’re:
Not that great
Not talented after all
Not as successful as they think you are
Not worthy of the subscribers you have
There’s a deeper level here, too. Some of you might already know where this is heading. Imposter Syndrome doesn’t just come for folks who have a little success in their lives. It also happens to transgender people all the time.
Am I really transgender?
Is my dysphoria intense enough?
What if I don’t feel any dysphoria?
What if I’m not really trans at all, but it’s all in my head?
What if they discover that I’m not a man?
What if nobody believes that I’m nonbinary?
What if I don’t believe that I’m nonbinary?
What if I’m just pretending?
For full transparency, I sit in this kind of Imposter Syndrome all the damn time. It’s a near permanent state of being for me, partly due to some factors like the current political climate in the U.S., unresolved or partly-resolved trauma, and how my body interprets my current dose of testosterone.1 Not all trans folx feel this kind of Imposter Syndrome, but plenty of us do.
Imposter Syndrome whispers to us that we should not feel worthy of any kind of success or achievement that comes our way. It was just luck, after all, right? Maybe I’m just a fraud or a fake. Positive feedback and compliments are impossible to take. We shunt those things off onto those around us, we overprepare in defense of that moment that we will be “outed” for being less than we appear, and we panic silently when no one is watching.
As trans people we might even interpret moments of being gendered correctly as mistakes. That guy at the checkout just called me sir by accident, right? I certainly don’t look the part. What if he knew I’m not a *real* man?
What if you find out I’m not a *real* success?
Here is the personal confession part. Oh come on, you knew it was coming. I didn’t build up all that context for nothing.
This week I surpassed 1,000 subscribers here on TransFriend. And the very first thing I felt was shame. I didn’t earn this. These subscribers didn’t show up because of anything I did. It was luck. It was coincidence. I’m barely able to cobble together enough words to make a weekly post, and they’re going to find out—you’re going to find out—that I’m not what you think I am. And how many folks came here because of my exposure over on SmallStack? Lots, that’s how many. Lots of lots. Tons of lots.
No, really, this part feels important. I launched SmallStack on May 15th of this year. And on that date I had 389 subscribers on TransFriend. I felt great about that number. It had been a slow, long climb to get to such a big audience, and I felt close to so many of you. I knew a lot of your names, I saw you showing up in the comments in such beautiful ways, and it felt like manageable, sustainable growth. Plenty of you have even reached out to share your stories with me in emails or DMs, and I have never taken that contact for granted. It means everything to me.
Why SmallStack? I put out a post about how hard it was to grow around here, and it connected with similar feelings from a lot of other creators on Substack. This wild notion caught hold of me—that I could create a space where the little folks could come together and shelter from the onslaught of those big names out there celebrating things like, “Hey, look at me, I just got 1,000 subscribers!”
And like five minutes later I have 1,000 subscribers, and I feel like a total fraud.
What if you’re only here because you thought I’m some kind of amazing writer? That I’m published (I’m not) or accomplished (not unless 3rd grade spelling bee champ means anything) or heading somewhere great (I mean, let’s not lose ALL hope here). What if you thought I was so secure in my gender that I could stand up to transphobes and dish out epic insults (no, I stutter)? Maybe you have this impression that I’m tall or have a really thick beard or my experience in transition is solid enough to mean something, and you’ll eventually find out that I have absolutely none of that.
What if you find out that I am flawed and imperfect and scared and small?
Maybe you’ve been here, too. I know I’m not the only one to struggle with these feelings. Honestly, I have never been good at accepting positive feedback. I downplay my achievements. I uplift others because they deserve it more. Stay humble. Keep your head low. Don’t draw attention. Don’t suck up the limelight.
Be grateful and work harder.
If you’re suddenly feeling like you should leave a comment about how I have this all wrong, how I need to hear something positive to overcome these internal voices holding me back, or if I’m just fishing for compliments, hold tight. Because I’m about to shift my own perspective with you.
I am no expert. I am no authority. I’m a beginner, and I ask questions, and I explore and wonder. And when
listened to my fears around Imposter Syndrome, she offered a different way to look at those feelings, a different frame for those little whispers of doubt and shame. I had to sit with her wisdom for a bit, but it’s starting to feel clearer now. Brace yourself—this is some good shit.What if those feelings of being an imposter are actually an invitation, a reminder to listen to that inner voice? What if they’re telling you to pay attention to your values, to the things you hold dear, to the places that align with how you define yourself and how you interact with the world?
What if this is how you connect with that fragile feeling of venturing into the unknown?
At its core this is always about fear, and I’m no stranger to fear. Yoda would kick me out of the Jedi temple for sure. Jokes aside, our fears aren’t just there to taunt and humiliate us. Sometimes they help protect us. And these fears we face—that we interpret as being imposters or fakes or frauds—are often fears of moving forward into new places, out of our comfort zones. Sometimes they come from a lack of support. Sometimes they simply come from newness or unfamiliarity.
And you? There are over 1,000 of you here now, each of you unique and important and valuable and beautiful. I am afraid of losing that intimate connection I have with each of you as that number grows, because that connection IS my support. It might be yours, too. I am afraid that you’ll find out I’m nothing special at all, but maybe you’re not here because of that. Maybe you’re here because I’ve created something for you that you want to be part of, and that feels a whole lot less scary and uncertain. And if you discover one day that I’m human and messy and certainly not perfect, maybe you’ll forgive me for all of those things.
Somewhere deep inside, I’m desperately trying to find a way to celebrate this milestone. I’m not there yet, but I haven’t given up. I’ll start with this:
1,000 friends is absolutely worth being happy about.
Your trans friend,
Robin
PS – I tossed around the idea of turning off comments to forestall compliments because those feel so awkward and difficult for me to hear right now. I’m just not ready. Instead, I would love for you to share a comment about why you decided to subscribe here. No pressure, you don’t have to leave a comment at all. You can also DM me or send an email to emailthattransfriend@gmail.com if you’re feeling quieter.
Gosh, I feel like I’m oversharing on this, but I also think there isn’t enough said about these things in any kind of discourse that folks can find. I know I’m not the only one facing dysphoria and Imposter Syndrome because of HRT dosage or C-PTSD. The only way to break down that conversational barrier is to say it here. Please handle with care.
as a trans girlie I love reading from other trans people; it makes me feel a lot less alone <3
I subscribed many months back simply because I wanted to deepen my learning about trans people. More than anything, the title of your Substack is an enormously gracious invitation to me and so many others; it says, “show up as you are, I will hold space for your learning.” So, to me, even if hundreds of folks came after learning about you through SmallStack, trust that they too felt there was something you were offering that isn’t easy to get anywhere else. (Also, I honestly believe that you, Robin, will always hold “SmallStack values,” no matter how many subs Trans Friend amasses).