When silence befriends the imposter

Pooja Takhar (left) and Glory Sokunle (right) describe their first days as Assistant Psychologists and how they beat their imposter feelings.

We were finally here. The first day in our new role as Assistant Psychologists. Keen and eager to please, we sat bright-eyed with fresh pens and notebooks at the ready. 'You are lucky to have this role', the Clinical Psychologist said with an encouraging grin.

Luck? What a way to sum up the countless applications, interviews and rejections. We had worked our way through all the steps on an arduous path, and between us, we had six years of experience in both Health and Social care and Research. We had met the job description, our applications were shortlisted, and we had interviewed well to be recruited.

Nevertheless, we nod. Yes, they were right. It was luck.

Despite our objective (and deserved) achievement, we couldn't internalise this. Were we experiencing the imposter phenomenon (IP) (Clance & Imes, 1978; Bravata et al., 2019)? Curious, we completed the Clance Imposter Phenomenon Scale (CIPS). A score between 61 and 80 means the respondent frequently has Impostor feelings; higher than 80 means the respondent often has intense IP experiences. We both sat in anticipation, waiting for the other to say their score first; 72 and 75. Feelings of disbelief, but also a joint sigh of relief: 'It's not just me'.

A remote time

We spent some time thinking about the origins of these feelings, and what maintains them. We agreed these IP tendencies have been exacerbated by working in a completely remote service during a time of unprecedented change. No office environment, no buffer provided by the invaluable chats and debriefs that come with working around others. Even a supportive team could not reduce the overwhelming feeling of incompetence and self–doubt.

Several months later, our confidence has increased through development within the role. We have contributed to the development of the service, worked with numerous service users, and received our fair share of positive feedback.

Even a supportive team could not reduce the overwhelming feeling of incompetence and self–doubt.

Despite this, 'luck' still lingers in our thoughts: The external locus of control theory (Rotter, 1996) explains our orientation towards believing that our accomplishments were due to luck and why we can't shake the feeling we haven't earned our place. IP research supports this and has found that individuals with these tendencies have an external locus of control (Clance & Imes, 1978; Chrisman et al., 1995).

Getting found out

'What could you have done differently?' The dreaded question from our supervisor. It is supposed to aid us in becoming thoughtful and reflective practitioners, yet it somehow validates those feelings of inadequacy and failure. A constant reminder that we are not 'the perfect practitioner'. So, we fall into the imposter cycle, where despite the positive feedback that precedes the question, we still find it challenging to internalise these successes to our abilities. We continue to focus on the negatives of our performance, and remain fearful of not succeeding (Clance, 1985).

This fear of exposure is not limited to interactions with supervisors and colleagues. It manifests in our clinical work, and we have identified these feelings as being more prominent in silences between us and clients. Although silence is an implicit part of human existence (Valle, 2019), it has brought us anxiety-provoking exposure. In the silence, our previous successes were invalidated. The silence illuminates a spotlight on us – That's it, they know. We have been found out.

Theoretically, we understand that silence can support orientation toward the present moment (Pfeifer & Whittmann, 2020), but that can bring about the IP trait of exposure if we do not respond in the 'right way'.

Curious to explore this further, we completed a thought diary focusing on our feelings towards silence in a therapeutic setting. The lengthy gaps felt uncomfortable, and filling the silence was a way of masking our perceived incompetence. Through our reflections with one another, we realised that our prompt responses denied service users the chance of self-exploration.

Societal views and systems

'Psychologist' is often used as an umbrella term to classify both qualified and non-qualified roles. Being such a vast discipline, it is understandable that those less familiar with the field find it difficult to differentiate between roles.

This misconception has come up within our practice, with some service users having an inflated sense of our abilities and assuming that we have the same competencies as senior staff members. Despite informing them otherwise, they remain expectant that our abilities will mirror those of senior clinicians. This validates our imposter feelings, another reminder that we are not yet 'good enough'. 

Filling the silence was a way of masking our perceived incompetence.

Though we experience the phenomena individually, we do not exist within a social vacuum. Our social context has shaped our understanding of ourselves and the world. As two ethnic women of Indian and Nigerian backgrounds, we recognise that the systems we are part of feed into our dread of silence and heighten our imposter feelings. This chimes with research that IP is commonly identified in women and ethnic minority groups (Peteet et al., 2015).

Our cultures featured loud conversation, endless parties, family gatherings and numerous religious celebrations – silence was a rarity. Although these moments provided us joy and memories, it was often coupled with avoidance of silence. 'You're quiet', says the pondering relative with an underlying tone of disappointment. The words unsaid were 'You're passive/incompetent/unintelligent'.

And so the avoidance of silence begins. We navigate our lives and perception of ourselves by remembering those words: coupled with negative racial stereotypes that certain ethnic groups are viewed as unintelligent, lazy and underachieving (Reyna, 2008). Even achieving our long-term goal of becoming Clinical Psychologists does not bring comfort. Our field is disproportionately made up of white females (Ashan, 2020) and ethnic groups are underrepresented (Tong et al., 2019), despite three decades of initiatives to change this (Davenhill et al., 1989). This lack of representation can exacerbate our imposter feelings and elicit doubts about our suitability for the positions (Peters et al., 2012). We commonly experience microaggressions, typified by the question 'Where are you really from?'. The suggestion is we are undeserving and do not belong.

Recognising a discourse around luck

The grinning psychologist meant well as they said, 'You are lucky to have this role'. They hoped to encourage. They failed to recognise how these words would linger and feed our imposter feelings, and contribute to our awareness of 'otherness'. Of course, it was luck – how else would we have been able to overcome the institutional barriers that psychology presents?

We now recognise that these imposter feelings extend far beyond the individual. Feenstra et al. (2020) identified that they are dependent on context, suggesting that societal and cultural norms play a significant role in the experience. IP can affect anyone at any point, but the research suggests that it is more likely to affect marginalised groups. Furthermore, IP can reduce career striving and motivation to lead (Neurieter & Traut-Mattaush, 2017). So, it's important to recognise that discourse around 'luck' in securing early entry jobs may fuel the under-representation of marginalised groups in psychology.

The intensity of these imposter feelings seems to have declined as we have developed in our roles. We have aimed to be comfortable with silence in our personal and professional lives. But as research into IP grows, we hope that more interventions that include contextual roots will help to support marginalised groups in dealing with their imposter feelings.