Hi, I’m a Black woman and I’m tired of talking about imposter syndrome.

Women’s History Month is celebrated annually in March — it’s often characterized as a time for celebrating the social and economic advancement of women across the world, while also reckoning with the palpable feeling that women’s rights are fleeting. From recent state and federal decisions concerning women’s reproductive rights, to income and wealth disparities between whites and women of color — it’s quite apparent that America still has a long way to go before we achieve true economic and social parity, and liberation for all women.

To celebrate Women’s History Month, organizations assembled panel discussions, and keynote speeches to feature stories and profiles of women from around the world. Many of these women shared stories of triumph and challenges as they navigated feelings of self-doubt, and workplace discrimination in order to climb the leadership ranks.

Several organizations were also cognizant of “the danger of the single story” — or the idea that people often have the propensity to extrapolate details of one woman’s stories to that of all women. To combat this, many organizations are making deliberate and intentional decisions about who should be on their panels, and selecting women who can speak to and amplify the importance of intersectionality. Work is experienced differently for white and Black women — as Black women must navigate increased barriers to entry, racial and gender microaggressions, harsher performance reviews, impediments to advancement, and less safe spaces to seek refuge from racially hostile workplaces. The same can be said for women who hold a disability, as they also face discriminatory treatment in hiring, and increased scrutiny for needing to take time off work or request alternative work arrangements or accommodations.

I have also served on similar panels — focused on navigating white workplaces and navigating the challenges and pressures of being a first-generation college student. I always appreciate the opportunity to ground my story in a lens of intersectionality. I’m Black, a woman, and from a working class family. All of these identities have shaped and continue to shape my career journey, the choices I make, as well as my treatment in the workplace.

Having served on many panels, while also being an astute observer of women empowerment focused panel and keynotes-I have noticed one common feature — women are asked way too much about imposter syndrome, and how they manage it.

Imposter syndrome is described as, the psychological experience of feeling fraudulent or phony despite the general success you have achieved. Imposter syndrome is not a diagnosable mental illness and can show up in both personal and professional settings. Imposter syndrome can impact everyone, no matter their education, skill level or position at a company. Accomplished first lady, mother, author, and successful attorney, Michelle Obama admitted to experiencing imposter syndrome, and even added “it never goes away.”

Even with the public fame and notoriety, sold out speaking engagements, and the advanced degrees, Michelle Obama still believes that she isn’t deserving of being in certain spaces. To most women of color, this shouldn’t come as a surprise. We were raised with the notion that, “you have to be twice as good to get half as far”, meaning that even with our accolades, it still doesn’t get us to the same peak of success as our white colleagues.

Even when we show up as qualified, and confirming to white and Eurocentric stereotypes of how we should dress and communicate, imposter syndrome can be exacerbated by subtle and not so subtle slights and statements made by our white colleagues. We have all been in situations where we have had our knowledge and expertise scrutinized or called into question or even experienced a direct report who displayed insubordination by going above our supervision authority. These types of interactions magnify the intensity of imposter syndrome — as they make us feel as if our presence and leadership are not valued or respected — and we begin to develop negative thoughts around our own abilities.

Almost anytime I serve on a panel, I am asked about imposter syndrome — and I may be asked to recall specific incidents of when I felt like an imposter, detail how it shows up emotionally and psychologically, and how I am taking responsibility for managing it, as if the ownership is on me to make my colleagues less racist and more compliant. I am a Black Woman with a PhD, and over 13 years of experience in the education field. I am absolutely tired of being asked about imposter syndrome, and here’s why.

• Workplaces can be traumatizing, and being asked to recall traumatizing incidents in front of other people for public consumption is both inhumane and ludicrous. Research on work-place induced trauma is rising in prominence — and some workers refer to it as “workplace PTSD.” We also don’t consider the importance of anonymity and psychological safety as we encourage women to talk about these incidents. We don’t consider what emotional or psychological reaction a woman may have as she recalls these details — and event organizers don’t provide opportunities for additional counseling or therapy in order to deal with the ramifications of recalling trauma.
• Imposter syndrome is inherently victim blaming. By phrasing the question around what imposter syndrome thoughts you have experienced, we assume the origin of these feelings falls within the person and not the system itself. The system constantly reinforces the paradigm that women are less than and don’t belong. Therefore, it only seems plausible that if a woman feels like an imposter, she must do everything in her power to change it. Bullshit!
• These imposter syndrome questions have always lacked an intersectional lens. We ask women these questions to establish some form of relatability and to find common threads between the stories of women, without considering other identities they hold. A white woman may discuss feelings of imposter syndrome such as her feeling as if her opinion doesn’t matter in the workplace, and this is often reinforced by perpetual mansplaining. While her feeling is valid — Black women must also navigate racialized and gendered assumptions about their intellect and capabilities. They too must navigate perpetual mansplaining, coupled with feelings about them being the “minority hire”, or feeling pressured to take on more work and prove themselves due to pervasive stereotypes like the “Strong Black Women.”
• I also want to acknowledge that two things can be true at the same time — white women can point to examples of being harmed in the workplace, and we can also point to several ways in which white workplaces acquiescence or bend over backwards for white women. The phenomena, white woman tears, describes a scenario where their privilege manifests in a way to avoid conflict and discomfort. A white woman may cry or confess that they have been harmed, and this often conjures up feelings of empathy from others. Unfortunately, this silences the experiences of Black and Brown women, alleviates white women’s complicity in upholding racism, and absolves them from any responsibility in helping combat it.

Many of you women empowerment event planners may be asking, so what do we do, now? Here is ONE idea.

• Rephrase the question. Before asking the question, preface that imposter syndrome is not an individual phenomenon, it’s a systemic problem. It is the system’s treatment of women, especially women of color that forces women to feel fraudulent and devalued. Instead, ask women, what can the system do to alleviate incidents of imposter syndrome, or what role does the system play in imposter syndrome for women?

So, I realize most of you well intentioned women empowerment event planners are probably reading this with a sense of guilt — and that’s okay. Racism is a culmination of habits and traditions that become systematized, and this practice of being asked about imposter syndrome is one of them. It’s a practice that has been going on too long. Most importantly, being an effective anti-racist involves recognizing and acknowledging, and doing better the next time. It is your commitment to do better that gives me hope that we can all approach these events with much more cultural sensitivity, intersectionality and in more trauma informed ways.

May we all find ways to continue to interrogate and expand our racial consciousness this Women’s History Month, and beyond.