If Ilona Maher Doesn't Have Imposter Syndrome, Then Why Do I?

by sophia horowitz

Is imposter syndrome just a new-fangled word for what most women have been going through for ages? While I don't believe only women suffer from it, navigating the world of self-doubt is an all-too-familiar journey for many, including myself. For those who have not gone down this rabbit hole on TikTok yet, the term "imposter syndrome" encapsulates the feelings of inadequacy that often cling to our successes like shadows. Despite our achievements, we sometimes find ourselves questioning our worth. Was it all luck? For as long as I can remember, I’ve grappled with the weight of imposter syndrome. It wasn't until I discovered that term that I realized what had been creeping into my mind all these years.

The syndrome itself feels inherently goofy in a way. I know how hard I work and how much effort and thought goes into my career accomplishments, yet I feel more overflowing pride for my buddies or small wins like making a new friend than I've ever felt for maintaining a 4.0 through my education. Instead, when I would receive praise for good grades or get accepted into competitive programs, I felt a strange sense of relief rather than happiness. Recently, I encountered Ilona Maher's interview, in which she expressed confusion over imposter syndrome while proudly discussing her accomplishments without hesitation. Her confidence stirred something within me and the online community, making me reflect on my ongoing battle with self-doubt.

The 28-year-old Olympian was asked how she “overcomes imposter syndrome” by CNN anchor Christina Macfarlane.“I don’t have that,” Maher responded. Yet the interviewer pressed again: “How is that possible? I feel like imposter syndrome ruins my life sometimes.” Maher made it clear that she believes she deserves what she’s gotten. The reporter still pressed, and Maher responded that she was proud of her hard work & deserved her success. Ending with an interesting line saying, “It’s interesting. Are they asking NFL players and male politicians if they have imposter syndrome? Probably not.”

Like the NFL or politics, the chasm of self-doubt widens as I breech into a male-dominated field. I constantly question when I will be enough and when I will stop feeling like I need to prove my capability. A recent experience within my work in the film industry brought the issue of sexism to the forefront of my mind. A male colleague told the crew I could not handle more responsibilities simply because I maintained an upbeat attitude and dressed in colorful clothing- therefore, to him, lacking intelligence. Despite my contributions being crucial to the project’s success, his condescending view of me lingered long after our encounter.

This was not the first brush I've had with the underlying sexism in the film industry. I've submitted work under a pseudonym and found it more successful than using my real name. Hearing men assert that I wasn't "ready" for directing roles because I wouldn't be "loud enough." My friends have had jobs in which they specialized in mansplained to them. Or were typecast into dealing with domestic roles such as cooking and caring for staff. It raised painful questions: Why must women embody traditionally masculine traits to be deemed competent and successful?

Psychological studies have told us repeatedly that we accept a leader as the one who is the biggest, has the loudest voice, or is most aggressive. Women cannot compete in this way as in most cultures; women are conditioned to get along with people, fit in, and smile. According to tradition or social conditioning, if we make decisions, we succeed by doing so in a roundabout way, indirectly, subtly. When you look at it, it seems a bit backward. Why must we blend in or disappear to be seen? Is that why, when I stand forward for my accomplishments, I struggle to see myself?

I often felt out of place in school among peers who considered grades a status symbol. I knew how to navigate the school system to achieve well since the system was more of a game than an educational tool. But once getting good scores became the norm, all notice of my hard work washed away. And now, I must remain at the top of this hill I've created for myself.

I was more inclined toward creative pursuits in marching band and art rather than sports, and I often sensed rejection from peers who viewed me as "too different." Deep down, I fought against the notion that my interests limited my intelligence or ability. I often wanted to prove them wrong—to show that I was enough, regardless of how I expressed myself- even if, for a while, I wanted to be like them.

As I’ve ventured into adulthood, I’ve realized a troubling trend. While I've leaned more toward the mentality of making my younger self proud, why does society often celebrate achievements like grades or job offers while overlooking meaningful victories such as maintaining a healthy lifestyle, sobriety after addiction, or choosing to love again? How do we refocus our lens of success? How do we get women to fit into the picture? How do women redefine the mold they are put into?

Regarding my current career, I'm done with trying to be a man. Like Maher, I want to be exuberant with my achievements and pride. I want to be like the fantastic female directors I see paving the way for us to see that there are multiple ways to lead. I want to tell my stories and see myself accurately represented on both sides of the screen. I hope that, in the future, women filmmakers will use their acceptance speech time to acknowledge themselves and their loved ones rather than need to advocate for change. I want the next generation of young females never to have to blend in to be seen.

As I navigate my life in and around the workplace battling imposter syndrome, I recognize that celebrating big and small accomplishments is essential, even if it initially feels off. It is time for me to shift my perspective, and I encourage you all to do the same. Please acknowledge that the joy of the journey, the determination and creativity we bring, and the unique perspective are valid and worthy of celebration. Whether through a simple treat, a dance party, or meaningful affirmations in front of the mirror. And if you can't celebrate yourself just yet, celebrate the five-year-old version of yourself who is looking down at you, thinking you are really fucking cool. Let's create a supportive community where we uplift one another and share our experiences. This syndrome doesn't just have to live in our heads. Remember that you are capable, intelligent, strong, and enough. So, let’s shift the narrative around achievement and fiercely redefine what it means to be successful on our own terms.