Who Do You Think You Are?

The Harvard Business Review defines Imposter Syndrome as “a collection of feelings of inadequacy that persist despite evident success”. Researchers have linked it to perfectionism, and see it in high achieving and successful people, especially those in academics and those who are women. Studies have shown that children of parents who emphasized their successes, and who sent mixed messages of praise and criticism, become adults who experience imposter syndrome. Those who experience imposter syndrome suffer in silence, allowing pressure to build in order to not fail and be “found out” as an imposter.

Race can also effect whether a person experiences Imposter Syndrome. According to the American Psychological Association, “A 2013 study by researchers at the University of Texas at Austin surveyed ethnic-minority college students and found that Asian-Americans were more likely than African-Americans or Latino-Americans to experience impostor feelings.”

Feeling like an outlier has an enormous impact on whether or not you experience imposter syndrome. I see it run rampant among my peers and colleagues of all ages, orientations and races, but especially in non-male role models of mine. I also am no stranger to imposter syndrome, which I face every time I feel the need to run down my CV when I meet new coffee professionals. Each and every time I start a new chapter in my career, a pang of “am I good enough?” strikes through me.

I believe that imposter syndrome runs so rampant in coffee due to societal pressures of all kinds. I could write a book just on how many times I’ve had to answer questions like “So you’re just a barista?”, “Are you a student/ What did you go to school for?”, “What do you really do?”, “So… you want to open a coffee shop?” The word “just” creates so much damage in these scenarios. “It’s just coffee” implies there to be no reason to find value in it, that its worth deserves to be low. Family, friends and customers alike have a hard time grasping what a career in coffee actually looks like, and I’ve been spent the entirety of mine defending and explaining it to them. It takes a toll when you level up onto a new rung of your career ladder, only to be met with puzzlement and questions of validity.

The cost of coffee, the wages baristas make, and the highest tier of payment for non-cafe jobs most certainly imparts imposter syndrome on us. How can we feel secure in the path we’ve chosen when the product our entire industry is based around is devalued below its cost of production? Our security is shaken when customers complain about cafe pricing, or wholesale accounts balk at order minimums and the cost of a 5lb bag. When equivalent positions in other industries make hand-over-fist more than what we do in coffee, it makes a world of sense that we don’t feel secure in our own worth, must less asking for what we are worth.

I also believe that the professional development track of competition floods entire generations of coffee people with imposter syndrome. Championships undoubtedly open doors for the victors, but those doors only let one person through, and historically, those doors have opened mostly for white men. When the most “successful” echelon of professionals look fairly homogenous, it creates even more outliers struggling to be witnessed. We’ve curated a system where only the “best of the best” can achieve career enhancements that come along with championship titles. This can mitigate our feelings of success, no matter how big or small they are. The ripple of bias that has riddled scoresheets throughout the years, has also undoubtedly left many competitors feeling the sting of imposter syndrome years after competing. When you look at a scoresheet where the score has been affected by who you are as a person, and not how well you competed, you are left wondering, “Do I really deserve my place here?”

For me, my Imposter Syndrome is piloted by an unhealthy fear of failure.

A former employer once told me that one of the main reasons he hired me was because I was “unwilling to fail”. He wasn’t wrong. I unrelentingly throw myself at problems until they’re resolved. Since I was a kid I was a high achiever. My senior year of high school I was co-editor of the newspaper, the co-lead in the spring play, got 5’s on three AP exams, was a straight-A student, won a senior superlative and was Captain of the Cross Country team. I become all consumed with excellence, to prove it to myself and to others. Failure simply wasn’t an option. Until it happened.

Failure, I’ve learned on multiple occasions, is an excellent and unbiased teacher. She teaches us that sometimes, despite all your best efforts, you don’t succeed. And yet the world still turns, and the sun still rises and sets despite your failure. Being “unwilling to fail” isn’t the positive attribute our martyrdom work culture tries to make it out to be. Being willing to fail means you’re comfortable with yourself, and are humble enough to leave space for growth. Being willing to fail implies capacity for acceptance and the ability to adapt to new challenges. Being willing to fail means you’re not afraid of starting, and are ready to pick yourself back up if you fall. If you’re willing to put yourself out there, you’re one step ahead of the small voice in your head telling you that you aren’t worthy to do so.

I’ve failed spectacularly on the USBC stage, channeling every single one of my shots in semi-finals in a year where my star was on the rise. I’ve failed in achieving jobs that would’ve gotten me off the bar sooner, even going so far as applying to the same company five times, only to be rejected every single time. I’ve failed standing up for myself and knowing my rights, allowing toxic workplaces to take advantage of me. Each and every one of those failures hurt immeasurably, and yet I picked myself back up each and every time and kept going.

I don’t believe sheer will is what makes you overcome imposter syndrome. For me, it is the process of getting back up each time I fail that helps me confront it. I reach out to my mentors for advice on next steps. Kindness and support from those I look up to reminds me of my value, because it’s easier to see it in yourself when someone you admire tells you they see it in you. Reminding myself that perfection isn’t the goal, but rather fulfillment, quality and a job well-done are the goals. I also can’t understate the importance that talk therapy and CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) have had in my life, to help me reframe my negative self-talk into something positive and productive.

Imposter syndrome is a quiet, and personal battle. It leaps out in moments where you need your confidence and strength the most. It isn’t insurmountable, and naming it within yourself is the first step to overcoming it.