Imposter Syndrome When You're a Black Woman, But Not an Elite Black
You’re probably asking yourself two questions as you read this— 1) what is imposter syndrome and 2) what is an elite Black? The first is a little easier to begin with as you’ve likely heard this term used before. According to this Psychology Today article, imposter syndrome is defined as “a pattern of behavior where people doubt their accomplishments and have a persistent, often internalized fear of being exposed as a fraud.” With regard to the definition, that sounds like a really awful perspective to have about yourself. I can attest to the fact it’s amplified when you’re surrounded by a group of individuals who either don’t represent your own, benefit from privilege and have a “better” socioeconomic status than your own, and overtly—though more likely covertly—remind you that your difference isn’t a “good fit” for the whole.
I would go as far to state that as a Black woman I have always lived with imposter syndrome. As a little girl, in school I was placed in gifted and advanced classes and programs away from the friends I actually knew. Typically I was the only or one of three Black students in a class of maybe 20. As a child, I didn’t know how much that experience would dictate what the rest of my adulthood would be like as a professional in work environments, and even in future academic settings.
Everyone around me—my mom, my grandma, my “regular” friends, my “gifted” friends, and teachers—reinforced this notion that I was smart, capable of anything, and would rule the world one day. It wasn’t hard for me to enjoy being smart and learning because I’ve always loved building skills in areas which I found interest. However, at some point all of that stopped. As an adult, it became harder to feel like I was smart and capable despite me increasing my education and work experience. It began to feel like no matter which degrees I had, what work experience I’d amassed, and the kind of life I’d built for myself I’d have to prove myself over and over and over again. I no longer felt smart, like that little girl did years ago. Instead I felt lost and trapped in a cycle of feeling inadequate around people who never valued me.
What does this have to do with elite Blacks and feeling like an imposter? Throughout my adulthood I have been exposed to environments and given limited access to things most Black people will never experience in their lifetime. Yet, even in those environments, and with that limited access, I was still reminded there was a “better” Black than me: the elite Black. I’m definitely not stating those who I would identify as elite Blacks are void of experiencing imposter syndrome. I am stating that they experience it in a space that disassociates them from me; making it harder to connect and form community with them.
Even in the moments where I tried to unburden myself and be vulnerable with another Black person at work, school, or in life, I often found they could not relate or didn’t see the “big deal”—my problem to them was trivial at best and at worst self-inflicted, not caused by systemic racial and gender structures centuries old. Those that did relate and could see the “big deal” were always either on their way out of the organization, taking with them the spoils and riches of their labor as the comfortable Black, or they were in what academics call lower status roles—without power, influence, and affiliation.
I do not have suggestions or strategies to fight imposter syndrome when you find you are not an elite Black. I honestly don’t believe the onus is on you to have them either. Those who create spaces that ignite this should be doing the work to stop this from happening, if that is even possible. What I have for you is a lived experience of trying to navigate life while also trying to live it. In order to live we all need financial security, which requires working in some form or fashion. For me, that meant earning 6-figure salaries for all the actual business work that would be demanded of me along with the toxicity I would be exposed to while monitored like a piece of property in my role. In my opinion, as a Black woman it is in the very act of trying to live a life that you’re faced with imposter syndrome. The added layer of not being an elite Black can make you question more than your existence at work.
If you are a Black woman who has felt imposter syndrome rear its ugly head in your life, I’d love to hear your suggestions below in the comments. Perhaps you can shed light on what other Black women can put into practice when battling it, among the millions of other things Black women are tasked with putting up with daily.
