Definitions of Impostor Phenomenon
A feeling of phoniness in people who believe that they are not intelligent, capable, or creative despite evidence of high achievement.
- Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes, 1978, The imposter phenomenon in high achieving women: Dynamics and therapeutic intervention, Psychotherapy: Theory, Research & Practice
Impostor syndrome exploits the part of the brain that fosters insecurity, telling us not only that we are inferior to others in our field of work or study, but also that we don’t even deserve to be among them in the first place. That voice, while loud, is usually wrong – and we don’t have to let it determine how successful we can be.
- C.E. Harrison, Union of Reform Judaism blog
A feeling of phoniness in people who believe that they are not intelligent, capable, or creative despite evidence of high achievement.
- Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes, 1978, The imposter phenomenon in high achieving women: Dynamics and therapeutic intervention, Psychotherapy: Theory, Research & Practice
Impostor syndrome exploits the part of the brain that fosters insecurity, telling us not only that we are inferior to others in our field of work or study, but also that we don’t even deserve to be among them in the first place. That voice, while loud, is usually wrong – and we don’t have to let it determine how successful we can be.
- C.E. Harrison, Union of Reform Judaism blog
Some years ago, I was lucky enough invited to a gathering of great and good people: artists and scientists, writers and discoverers of things. And I felt that at any moment they would realise that I didn’t qualify to be there, among these people who had really done things.
On my second or third night there, I was standing at the back of the hall, while a musical entertainment happened, and I started talking to a very nice, polite, elderly gentleman about several things, including our shared first name. And then he pointed to the hall of people, and said words to the effect of, “I just look at all these people, and I think, what the heck am I doing here? They’ve made amazing things. I just went where I was sent.”
And I said, “Yes. But you were the first man on the moon. I think that counts for something.”
And I felt a bit better. Because if Neil Armstrong felt like an imposter, maybe everyone did. Maybe there weren’t any grown-ups, only people who had worked hard and also got lucky and were slightly out of their depth, all of us doing the best job we could, which is all we can really hope for.
Neil Gaiman
On my second or third night there, I was standing at the back of the hall, while a musical entertainment happened, and I started talking to a very nice, polite, elderly gentleman about several things, including our shared first name. And then he pointed to the hall of people, and said words to the effect of, “I just look at all these people, and I think, what the heck am I doing here? They’ve made amazing things. I just went where I was sent.”
And I said, “Yes. But you were the first man on the moon. I think that counts for something.”
And I felt a bit better. Because if Neil Armstrong felt like an imposter, maybe everyone did. Maybe there weren’t any grown-ups, only people who had worked hard and also got lucky and were slightly out of their depth, all of us doing the best job we could, which is all we can really hope for.
Neil Gaiman
“No matter how old you are, it always seems you’re never quite old enough to be a rabbi. No matter how devout, you’re never pious enough. Tough job, the rabbi thing.”
Rabbi Lawrence Kushner, I’m God, You’re Not: Observations on Organized Religion and Other Disguises of the Ego
Rabbi Lawrence Kushner, I’m God, You’re Not: Observations on Organized Religion and Other Disguises of the Ego
(ט) וְעַתָּ֕ה הִנֵּ֛ה צַעֲקַ֥ת בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל בָּ֣אָה אֵלָ֑י וְגַם־רָאִ֙יתִי֙ אֶת־הַלַּ֔חַץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר מִצְרַ֖יִם לֹחֲצִ֥ים אֹתָֽם׃ (י) וְעַתָּ֣ה לְכָ֔ה וְאֶֽשְׁלָחֲךָ֖ אֶל־פַּרְעֹ֑ה וְהוֹצֵ֛א אֶת־עַמִּ֥י בְנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל מִמִּצְרָֽיִם׃ (יא) וַיֹּ֤אמֶר מֹשֶׁה֙ אֶל־הָ֣אֱלֹקִ֔ים מִ֣י אָנֹ֔כִי כִּ֥י אֵלֵ֖ךְ אֶל־פַּרְעֹ֑ה וְכִ֥י אוֹצִ֛יא אֶת־בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל מִמִּצְרָֽיִם׃ (יב) וַיֹּ֙אמֶר֙ כִּֽי־אֶֽהְיֶ֣ה עִמָּ֔ךְ וְזֶה־לְּךָ֣ הָא֔וֹת כִּ֥י אָנֹכִ֖י שְׁלַחְתִּ֑יךָ בְּהוֹצִֽיאֲךָ֤ אֶת־הָעָם֙ מִמִּצְרַ֔יִם תַּֽעַבְדוּן֙ אֶת־הָ֣אֱלֹקִ֔ים עַ֖ל הָהָ֥ר הַזֶּֽה׃ (יג) וַיֹּ֨אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֜ה אֶל־הָֽאֱלֹקִ֗ים הִנֵּ֨ה אָנֹכִ֣י בָא֮ אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵל֒ וְאָמַרְתִּ֣י לָהֶ֔ם אֱלֹקֵ֥י אֲבוֹתֵיכֶ֖ם שְׁלָחַ֣נִי אֲלֵיכֶ֑ם וְאָֽמְרוּ־לִ֣י מַה־שְּׁמ֔וֹ מָ֥ה אֹמַ֖ר אֲלֵהֶֽם׃
(9) Now the cry of the Israelites has reached Me; moreover, I have seen how the Egyptians oppress them. (10) Come, therefore, I will send you to Pharaoh, and you shall free My people, the Israelites, from Egypt.” (11) But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and free the Israelites from Egypt?” (12) And [God] said, “I will be with you; that shall be your sign that it was I who sent you. And when you have freed the people from Egypt, you shall worship God at this mountain.” (13) Moses said to God, “When I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers’ [house] has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is [God’s] name?’ what shall I say to them?”
(י) וַיֹּ֨אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֣ה אֶל־יי בִּ֣י אדושם לֹא֩ אִ֨ישׁ דְּבָרִ֜ים אָנֹ֗כִי גַּ֤ם מִתְּמוֹל֙ גַּ֣ם מִשִּׁלְשֹׁ֔ם גַּ֛ם מֵאָ֥ז דַּבֶּרְךָ֖ אֶל־עַבְדֶּ֑ךָ כִּ֧י כְבַד־פֶּ֛ה וּכְבַ֥ד לָשׁ֖וֹן אָנֹֽכִי׃ (יא) וַיֹּ֨אמֶר יי אֵלָ֗יו מִ֣י שָׂ֣ם פֶּה֮ לָֽאָדָם֒ א֚וֹ מִֽי־יָשׂ֣וּם אִלֵּ֔ם א֣וֹ חֵרֵ֔שׁ א֥וֹ פִקֵּ֖חַ א֣וֹ עִוֵּ֑ר הֲלֹ֥א אָנֹכִ֖י יי׃ (יב) וְעַתָּ֖ה לֵ֑ךְ וְאָנֹכִי֙ אֶֽהְיֶ֣ה עִם־פִּ֔יךָ וְהוֹרֵיתִ֖יךָ אֲשֶׁ֥ר תְּדַבֵּֽר׃ (יג) וַיֹּ֖אמֶר בִּ֣י אדושם שְֽׁלַֽח־נָ֖א בְּיַד־תִּשְׁלָֽח׃ (יד) וַיִּֽחַר־אַ֨ף יי בְּמֹשֶׁ֗ה וַיֹּ֙אמֶר֙ הֲלֹ֨א אַהֲרֹ֤ן אָחִ֙יךָ֙ הַלֵּוִ֔י יָדַ֕עְתִּי כִּֽי־דַבֵּ֥ר יְדַבֵּ֖ר ה֑וּא וְגַ֤ם הִנֵּה־הוּא֙ יֹצֵ֣א לִקְרָאתֶ֔ךָ וְרָאֲךָ֖ וְשָׂמַ֥ח בְּלִבּֽוֹ׃ (טו) וְדִבַּרְתָּ֣ אֵלָ֔יו וְשַׂמְתָּ֥ אֶת־הַדְּבָרִ֖ים בְּפִ֑יו וְאָנֹכִ֗י אֶֽהְיֶ֤ה עִם־פִּ֙יךָ֙ וְעִם־פִּ֔יהוּ וְהוֹרֵיתִ֣י אֶתְכֶ֔ם אֵ֖ת אֲשֶׁ֥ר תַּעֲשֽׂוּן׃ (טז) וְדִבֶּר־ה֥וּא לְךָ֖ אֶל־הָעָ֑ם וְהָ֤יָה הוּא֙ יִֽהְיֶה־לְּךָ֣ לְפֶ֔ה וְאַתָּ֖ה תִּֽהְיֶה־לּ֥וֹ לֵֽאלֹקִֽים׃
(10) But Moses said to יי, “Please, O my lord, I have never been a man of words, either in times past or now that You have spoken to Your servant; I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.” (11) And יי said to him, “Who gives humans speech? Who makes them dumb or deaf, seeing or blind? Is it not I, יי ? (12) Now go, and I will be with you as you speak and will instruct you what to say.” (13) But he said, “Please, O my lord, make someone else Your agent.” (14) יי became angry with Moses and said, “There is your brother Aaron the Levite. He, I know, speaks readily. Even now he is setting out to meet you, and he will be happy to see you. (15) You shall speak to him and put the words in his mouth—I will be with you and with him as you speak, and tell both of you what to do— (16) and he shall speak for you to the people. Thus he shall serve as your spokesman, with you playing the role of God to him.
Impostor syndrome in a Jewish religious leader
I am an impostor. Yes, I am an impostor.
I have heard a calling that has caused me to climb up to the top of the roof of a room – an outsider looking in, peeking in, listening in, through thick glass. The voices are muffled, and I can’t hear all the voices. I can’t see all the players. But I know – deeply, intuitively – this is where I want and need to be.
So I creep silently into the room. A room full of old men, and old books, and old ideas.
Ideas about who is allowed to come into this room, what they are allowed to think, and what they are allowed to say and even how they are allowed to say it. Who one must be in order to have access to these ideas. And at times, it feels like such an exclusive club, it is almost as if there is a guard at the door, checking credentials.
And even though these men have told me repeatedly, in their books, their words, their stares –these are not the books for you, this is not the room for you – I defiantly open the books, with respect and trepidation, hands shaking. Their mustiness brings tears to my eyes, and makes my nose wriggle.
I push on, and I study, I devote many hours, and I fall deeply in love. In love with the beauty and truth of a conversation that spans continents, languages, generations, cultures, classes, and maybe even genders, and lives on, continues on. That invites in all of the voices, and all of the perspectives. That fights back against the idea that there are acceptable and unacceptable voices.
And there are moments of pain when I learn the texts that reveal me as an impostor, that question my yearning to be part of the discourse and, in doing so, deny my very being by inherently viewing me as outside of the conversation.
And there are moments when I am simply missing from the text, not invited to the table.
To be sure, there are other alternative voices. Voices in the room and voices in the text, who say: Come on in, we want you, we need you! The Jewish people needs you to take up the reigns of leadership.
And I rejoice when I meet women just like me in the text, staking their claim. Taking power, and taking their place in Jewish tradition.
And my own voice says – yes! These are the books I want; these are the words I love. These are the students whose faces look to me – and I have an obligation to serve them, and to help them grow!
But, in addition to the voices in the text that exclude me and the voices that invite me in, there is another voice.
It exists only in my own head. It is the voice of self-doubt and it whispers quietly, insidiously – Impostor! Who are you to join the conversation, a conversation that has never let people like YOU in?
Ah, the impostor syndrome – it hits hard, and it hits home.
- Rabba Yaffa Epstein, Speech to Yeshivat Maharat Advanced Kollel: Executive Ordination Track
I have heard a calling that has caused me to climb up to the top of the roof of a room – an outsider looking in, peeking in, listening in, through thick glass. The voices are muffled, and I can’t hear all the voices. I can’t see all the players. But I know – deeply, intuitively – this is where I want and need to be.
So I creep silently into the room. A room full of old men, and old books, and old ideas.
Ideas about who is allowed to come into this room, what they are allowed to think, and what they are allowed to say and even how they are allowed to say it. Who one must be in order to have access to these ideas. And at times, it feels like such an exclusive club, it is almost as if there is a guard at the door, checking credentials.
And even though these men have told me repeatedly, in their books, their words, their stares –these are not the books for you, this is not the room for you – I defiantly open the books, with respect and trepidation, hands shaking. Their mustiness brings tears to my eyes, and makes my nose wriggle.
I push on, and I study, I devote many hours, and I fall deeply in love. In love with the beauty and truth of a conversation that spans continents, languages, generations, cultures, classes, and maybe even genders, and lives on, continues on. That invites in all of the voices, and all of the perspectives. That fights back against the idea that there are acceptable and unacceptable voices.
And there are moments of pain when I learn the texts that reveal me as an impostor, that question my yearning to be part of the discourse and, in doing so, deny my very being by inherently viewing me as outside of the conversation.
And there are moments when I am simply missing from the text, not invited to the table.
To be sure, there are other alternative voices. Voices in the room and voices in the text, who say: Come on in, we want you, we need you! The Jewish people needs you to take up the reigns of leadership.
And I rejoice when I meet women just like me in the text, staking their claim. Taking power, and taking their place in Jewish tradition.
And my own voice says – yes! These are the books I want; these are the words I love. These are the students whose faces look to me – and I have an obligation to serve them, and to help them grow!
But, in addition to the voices in the text that exclude me and the voices that invite me in, there is another voice.
It exists only in my own head. It is the voice of self-doubt and it whispers quietly, insidiously – Impostor! Who are you to join the conversation, a conversation that has never let people like YOU in?
Ah, the impostor syndrome – it hits hard, and it hits home.
- Rabba Yaffa Epstein, Speech to Yeshivat Maharat Advanced Kollel: Executive Ordination Track
Impostor syndrome in a business leader
My senior year of college, I was inducted into the Phi Beta Kappa honor society. At that time, Harvard and Radcliffe had separate chapters, so my ceremony was for women only. The keynote speaker, Dr. Peggy McIntosh from the Wellesley Centers for Women, gave a talk called “Feeling Like a Fraud.” She explained that many people, but especially women, feel fraudulent when they are praised for their accomplishments. Instead of feeling worthy of recognition, they feel undeserving and guilty, as if a mistake has been made. Despite being high achievers, even experts in their fields, women can’t seem to shake the sense that it is only a matter of time until they are found out for who they really are - impostor with limited skills or abilities.
I thought it was the best speech I had ever heard … At last someone was articulating exactly how I felt. Every time I was called on in class, I was sure that I was about to embarrass myself. Every time I took a test, I was sure that it had gone badly. And every time I didn’t embarrass myself - or even excellent - I believed that I had fooled everyone yet again. One day soon, the jig would be up.
…
This phenomenon of capable people being plagued by self-doubt has a name - the impostor syndrome. Both men and women are susceptible to the impostor syndrome, but women tend to experience it more intensely and be more limited by it. Even the wildly successful writer and actress Tina Fey has admitted to these feelings. She once explained to a British newspaper, “The beauty of the impostor syndrome is you vacillate between extreme egomania, and a complete feeling of: ‘I’m a fraud! Oh god, they’re on to me! I’m a fraud!’ So you just try to ride the egomania when it comes and enjoy it, and then slide through the idea of fraud. Seriously, I’ve just realized that almost everyone is a fraud, so I try not to feel too bad about it.”
- Sheryl Sandberg, Excerpt from 'Lean In'
My senior year of college, I was inducted into the Phi Beta Kappa honor society. At that time, Harvard and Radcliffe had separate chapters, so my ceremony was for women only. The keynote speaker, Dr. Peggy McIntosh from the Wellesley Centers for Women, gave a talk called “Feeling Like a Fraud.” She explained that many people, but especially women, feel fraudulent when they are praised for their accomplishments. Instead of feeling worthy of recognition, they feel undeserving and guilty, as if a mistake has been made. Despite being high achievers, even experts in their fields, women can’t seem to shake the sense that it is only a matter of time until they are found out for who they really are - impostor with limited skills or abilities.
I thought it was the best speech I had ever heard … At last someone was articulating exactly how I felt. Every time I was called on in class, I was sure that I was about to embarrass myself. Every time I took a test, I was sure that it had gone badly. And every time I didn’t embarrass myself - or even excellent - I believed that I had fooled everyone yet again. One day soon, the jig would be up.
…
This phenomenon of capable people being plagued by self-doubt has a name - the impostor syndrome. Both men and women are susceptible to the impostor syndrome, but women tend to experience it more intensely and be more limited by it. Even the wildly successful writer and actress Tina Fey has admitted to these feelings. She once explained to a British newspaper, “The beauty of the impostor syndrome is you vacillate between extreme egomania, and a complete feeling of: ‘I’m a fraud! Oh god, they’re on to me! I’m a fraud!’ So you just try to ride the egomania when it comes and enjoy it, and then slide through the idea of fraud. Seriously, I’ve just realized that almost everyone is a fraud, so I try not to feel too bad about it.”
- Sheryl Sandberg, Excerpt from 'Lean In'
The day you were born is the day G-D decided the world could not exist without you.
- Rabbi Nachman of Breslov
- Rabbi Nachman of Breslov
The Death of Rabbi Zusya
Martin Buber, Tales of the Chassidim (with thanks to Sylvia Rothschild)
Martin Buber tells the story of the great Hasidic Rabbi Zusya of Hanipol. On his deathbed he began to cry uncontrollably and his students and disciples tried hard to comfort him. They asked him, “Rabbi, why do you weep? You are almost as wise as Moses, you are almost as hospitable as Abraham, and surely heaven will judge you favourably.”
Zusya answered them: “It is true. When I get to heaven, I won’t worry so much if God asks me, ‘Zusya, why were you not more like Abraham?’ or ‘Zusya, why were you not more like Moses?’ I know I would be able to answer these questions. After all, I was not given the righteousness of Abraham or the faith of Moses but I tried to be both hospitable and thoughtful. But what will I say when God asks me, ‘Zusya, why were you not more like Zusya?’
Martin Buber, Tales of the Chassidim (with thanks to Sylvia Rothschild)
Martin Buber tells the story of the great Hasidic Rabbi Zusya of Hanipol. On his deathbed he began to cry uncontrollably and his students and disciples tried hard to comfort him. They asked him, “Rabbi, why do you weep? You are almost as wise as Moses, you are almost as hospitable as Abraham, and surely heaven will judge you favourably.”
Zusya answered them: “It is true. When I get to heaven, I won’t worry so much if God asks me, ‘Zusya, why were you not more like Abraham?’ or ‘Zusya, why were you not more like Moses?’ I know I would be able to answer these questions. After all, I was not given the righteousness of Abraham or the faith of Moses but I tried to be both hospitable and thoughtful. But what will I say when God asks me, ‘Zusya, why were you not more like Zusya?’