Do you ever compare yourself to others? Never quite feel good enough? Harbour a deep-seated fear of failure? Convinced of your own mediocrity?

If so, you may believe you’re suffering from impostor syndrome! 

Fear not. We’re here to help: Pep Phelan (activist, scholar and myocophile) and Olivia Meyers (therapist and craft baker) are here to hold your hand and lovingly inform you that it is time to unshackle yourself from the real pretenders, and stop doubting yourself.

Because guess what: it’s not you who is mediocre. It is the abhorrent, controlling and abusive structures and systems that have gaslit you into believing that you are the problem.

Photo by 烧不酥在上海 老的

In essence, impostor syndrome is the persistent feeling of self-doubt and inadequacy one feels – particularly in work situations – despite clear evidence of their knowledge, skills and competence.

It is (falsely) understood as a psychological barrier that individuals must overcome in order to succeed in the world.

But why does it always seem to afflict certain types of people? You know, those of us who just happen to be Indigenous, people of colour, women, queer, gender diverse, disabled, neurodivergent, or any combination of these identities? How mysterious!

Impostor syndrome – originally termed “impostor phenomenon” – historically described the experience of high-achieving women in professional settings who felt undeserving of their success.

Impostor phenomenon, in its original conception, identified these feelings as legitimate responses to external pressures, stress and systemic biases, rather than inherent, internal flaws.

Over time, however, the term evolved into “impostor syndrome”, whereby feelings of self-doubt and insecurity that people (mainly oppressed people) experience have been pathologised as a fixed psychological experience.

Blaming the person, as opposed to the external stressors, has only served to reinforce neoliberal self-help narratives that ignore systemic oppression.

This is because – shock horror! – impostor syndrome is a construct of colonial oppression! The concept has changed over time; it is now being weaponised to keep marginalised people questioning ourselves, instead of interrogating the unjust and oppressive systems that we endure.

The feelings of uncertainty and inadequacy marginalised folks experience are there by design. They’re a result of a world built on colonialism, white supremacy, patriarchy, cis-heteronormativity, ableism, classism and capitalism.

For many centuries, the colony has perfected its brutality, divisiveness and exploitation. Greedy to the core, it is adept at inventing a problem, sticking a label on it, marketing the stigma and selling us the solution.

Impostor syndrome is the epitome of this: just another sticky label slapped on us by a world that simultaneously blames and bills us for the violence it continues to perpetrate.

Through its unrelenting assault, this colonial framework forces us to view and dissect ourselves down to the most microscopic levels. It breaks us into parts, drains us of our energy, and denies us grace in the fullness of our being.

For those of us with marginalised identities, impostor syndrome continually tells us that we are not clever, compliant or competent enough. It says that we are too much, too challenging, too strange to be seen.

It tells us that our inclusion is a problem to be surveilled and measured, while refusing to recognise and value our extraordinary ways of being.

It tells us that we do not belong at the table, in leadership positions, in decision-making spaces, or anywhere at all. 

The very notion of the “impostor” assumes and dictates that there is an entitled owner of power: often white, cis, straight, wealthy, abled men.

Anyone else must prove their worth, usually through relentless labour, self-sacrifice and the erasure of their own cultural and personal identities.

The problem doesn’t lie with us, but with the unrelenting colonial project that fabricates the world in brutally exclusionary ways.

In the colony, why acknowledge and respect diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI), when they would rather have us disenfranchised, intimidated and exterminated (DIE).

Capitalism, neoliberalism and the myth of meritocracy fuel impostor syndrome by insisting that we, as individuals, are solely responsible for our success or failure. This is false.

The belief that simply working harder and improving our confidence will allow us to succeed, ignores the reality that these systems were never meant for us.

These systems demand our labour while refusing us security. They demand our brilliance while denying us credit, and demand our silence when we call out the violence of exclusion.

The exploitative self-help industry profits from this trap – selling us books and workshops coaching us to navigate “impostor syndrome” instead of directing that energy – and transformative intent – toward collective liberation.

The solution is not to contort ourselves to fit into oppressive systems. It’s to recognise, ridicule and tear them down entirely.

Dismantling colonial constructs means rejecting these ideological narratives as objective truths. It means transmuting fears, healing the shame that drives self-doubt, and coming to a position of clarity and confidence about who you really are, both as an individual and within a community.

We must deflect the assault and turn that energy outward – toward decolonising workplaces, reclaiming our time, redistributing power and creating spaces where queer, trans, disabled, Indigenous and racialised people do not have to fight to exist.

Be wary of the scarcity doctrines that are used to wilfully deceive us, proclaiming that there is only room for a select few of us at the top. Instead, we must forge networks of staunch and unrelenting solidarity that demand systemic change.

The real fraud is a system that was never meant to let us thrive. We don’t need to prove our worth – we need to destroy the structures that question it in the first place.

Let us be clear: impostor syndrome isn’t real. It’s a big fucking fallacy! A colonial, white supremacist, patriarchal, cis-heterosexist, ableist, capitalist weapon designed to keep us doubting and blaming ourselves instead of the systems that oppress us.

It convinces us that we are the problem when the problem is – and has always been – that power is hoarded by the privileged few. We must dismantle that power, burn it to the ground and build something new.

Solidarity is our greatest weapon. Community is our greatest shield. Through connection, subversion and collective resistance, we turn their ignorance and arrogance into our advantage.

We infiltrate, disrupt and reimagine. We don’t just demand a seat at the table – we build a whole damn house of our own.