On Imposter Syndrome and Frank Conversations

Hi, me again.  I’m going to play the “I was kind of dying from a horrible cough last week” card as my excuse for not posting anything.  As I was kind of dying, I’m not going to feel too bad about excusing myself from last week’s post (I still feel a little bad... just slightly less bad than I probably would if I hadn’t had a cold :P)

Anyway, this is a slightly less lighthearted post than usual.  I’ve had a surprising number of conversations surrounding the same topic lately, so I thought I’d write something about it.  I’ll work in some of the things I’ve done over the past week, but this is largely going to be a think-y post.  Just a heads up for if you find those horribly boring and want to skip this one. :P

A large number of the conversations I’ve had in the past two weeks have centered around the idea of imposter syndrome.  Wikipedia defines imposter syndrome as follows:

a psychological phenomenon in which people are unable to internalize their accomplishments. Despite external evidence of their competence, those with the syndrome remain convinced that they are frauds and do not deserve the success they have achieved. Proof of success is dismissed as luck, timing, or as a result of deceiving others into thinking they are more intelligent and competent than they believe themselves to be.

Based on various experiences, I think it’s probably fair to say that a large portion of MIT experiences imposter syndrome at some point in their careers.  I know for a fact that I question whether I belong at MIT almost daily (although less so now that I’m not struggling with math on a daily basis... in retrospect, switching majors was an excellent decision).  And even on the days when I’m not wondering why I’m here, I’m generally detailing the ways in which I’m not good enough at what ever I’m doing, or not qualified enough for what I want to do next.  And it’s not just my crazy brain that’s decided these things- I was talking to my grad student the other day, and he said he feels the same way a lot of the time. 

A lot of it, I think, has to do with the fact that the majority of MIT students (undergrad or graduate) are coming from programs where they were the cream of the crop.  MIT is home to valedictorians, champion athletes, debate masters, and brilliant researchers.  In an environment like that, it’s easy to look at the group of people around you and feel inadequate in some way.  While there are still people who are at the top of the pile, of course, those people tend to be so brilliant in some way that it’s nearly impossible to even conceive of competing with them.  But that’s kind of what we’re doing on a daily basis- maybe we’re not directly competing for anything, but it’s stupidly easy to look at the person next to you and compare yourself to them, and subsequently feel completely inadequate in some way.

One would think that after three years at MIT I would have gotten over the idea that I’m no longer the best (and yes, it’s a bit arrogant to say that I was the best previously.  I acknowledge that, and would like to say that even if I wasn’t the best in high school, I was definitely in the top 10% of my class.  And I’m certainly not there now.)  In the past two weeks, I’ve had ample opportunities to feel woefully inadequate.  There was the career fair (at which I lamented my choice of major, since the number of companies wanting anything but Course 6 (Electrical Engineering and Computer Science) was as low as usual (which is to say, nearly nonexistent)) and a networking event (at which I lamented the fact that I’m not better at socializing with people I don’t know).  Both events took me outside my comfort zone, and I think given my past attempts at events like these, I actually did pretty well.  But objectively speaking, neither the Career Fair nor the networking event went very well.  Particularly when compared to my Course 6 friends who came out with interviews and job offers.

I understand that biology and computer science follow completely different career paths.  And I know, logically, that it’s ridiculous to compare myself to Course 6 students.  But it’s a tiny bit disheartening to walk through a Career Fair at which there were easily 350 booths, and to only talk to maybe four companies that were actually interesting to you, and interested in you (three of which were just branches of the National Laboratory in different places).

In the aftermath of my “Career Fair is stupid” feelings, I decided to put all of my eggs in the grad school basket for now, and deal with the outcome of that decision when I actually have an outcome to deal with.  Since a lot of the biotech jobs don’t actually advertise open positions until the spring anyway, this isn’t the crazily irresponsible decision that it may seem like at first glance.

It did, however, lead to a wonderfully frank conversation with my grad student about why I don’t feel like I can get into grad school.  And, as per usual, my grad student told me that I was being a little bit ridiculous (and also slightly overdramatic).  It also lead to the aforementioned discussion about how we both feel horribly inadequate, even though we’re here and in our (knock on wood) final year of MIT.  Honestly, I think that we, as a society, need to have more frank discussions about these kinds of things.  Or maybe I just need to be more open with my feelings.  Regardless, actually just saying what you’re feeling rather than talking around the subject is surprisingly effective.

I also got into something of an argument about imposter syndrome in Spanish class today.  There was an Institute-wide 15 minutes for reflection and discussion today, in memory of those who have died in our community in the past several months.  Although Spanish class took place in the hour after the designated time, our professor decided that we should have a discussion anyway, since about half of our nine-person class hadn’t had a class during the actual discussion period.  We ended up spending about half an hour talking about ways that we think the Institute could better support its community members. 

At one point, one of the guys in my class (who may have been playing devil’s advocate...) said that he didn’t think imposter syndrome was an Institute-wide problem, but rather an individual problem.  On the one hand, yes, I can see where he’s coming from.  On the other hand, if he were correct, the amount of people I’ve heard recently discussing the fact that they don’t feel prepared for the real world, or that they don’t feel like they belong here is just ridiculous.  I’m personally of the opinion that there’s something socially that we’re doing that makes it difficult to comprehend the magnitude of what we’ve accomplished by surviving MIT.  Maybe we’re all just stupidly humble.  Maybe we’re all horribly confused.  Maybe there’s something in the water (don’t worry, I’m pretty sure this one’s not the answer).  Anyway, I argued back with him and said what I thought, and a surprisingly large number of people (okay, so seven.  But that’s eight-ninths of my class that agree with each other, which is impressive) agreed with my point.  Which tells me that if all of these people, who are from completely different backgrounds, and majors, and groups on campus, all agree that sometimes we feel woefully inadequate for no reason?  There’s probably something true in that statement.

MIT is hard not only academically, but socially.  There’s this concept of an MIT bubble that separates you from the outside world.  The bubble kind of functions in two directions- it makes it hard for us to keep up with current events and such, and it makes it hard for everyone else to understand what it’s like to be at MIT.  I’m not trying to say, “No one understands how hard it is, whine, whine, whine”, etc.  But it’s really hard to understand the mindset of MIT unless you’re here.  I think that’s a large part of why the bubble exists- it’s simultaneously comforting and horrible to talk to people outside MIT and hear “Your degree will have MIT on it, there’s no way you won’t find a job/get into grad school/change the world.”  Don’t get me wrong- it does help to hear that every now and again.  But it’s also frustrating because that’s something that I kind of know logically, but can’t really believe fully.  Because I’m drinking MIT’s water, and I’ve got imposter syndrome.  Platitudes are great, to an extent.  But sometimes you need to complain to people who are dealing with the same set of problems you are, rather than hearing that you’ll be fine eventually.  Which is, I think, a large part of the cause of the MIT bubble.

I’m not entirely sure where I’m going with this, other than getting some gunk off my chest and complaining a lot about MIT.  We say IHTFP for a reason- sometimes we really freaking love this place, and sometimes we hate it (For reference, IHTFP can either stand for I Have Truly Found Paradise, or I Hate This Freaking Place, depending on your feelings that day).  My friend, who’s a vastly superior writer [side note: again with the comparisons! But seriously, she's really good, you should read her stuff], wrote a blog post this week about a similar topic.  Her conclusion was that we need to stand together, and support each other.  And while I agree, I also think that something definitely needs to change.  I find it ridiculous that this much of the student body feels as though we don’t deserve to be here.  I’m not sure what we can change.  I’m not even sure that it can change.  But I think that the solution MIT is seeking is probably out there somewhere.  And if we keep having frank discussions like the ones I had with my grad student and with my Spanish class, we just might find it.