Verified by 
Key points
- Inner negative voices can cause us to feel like an imposter.
- We must listen carefully to our healthier voices.
- We need to accept that our confidence can grow slowly.
- We can remind ourselves that these critical inner voices are really the voices of others.
I often wonder when the negative voices of my past (and sometimes present) will stop. When will I be old enough for them to disappear? The best I can hope for is that these utterances become muted, their volume diminished.
I am aware of their existence the way I am aware of a paper cut. I can still go about my day without a huge intrusion from the discomfort, but they are always on my mind’s back burner. These negative voices cover many of my life’s roles.
When I was teaching college-level English, these voices shouted that I was an imposter as a professor: You really aren’t the typical English teacher. You don’t enjoy Shakespeare or traditional poetry, and, besides, your handwriting is horrible. Your passion lies in nonfiction, and while you have read the classics, they aren’t your favorite literature.
Would the administrators learn that my high school Honor’s English teacher suggested that I drop her class and take a “regular English” class, for she deemed me not “Honor’s material”? Upon learning all this buried information about me, would they fire me? They never did, but still, I wondered.
But then a stronger, healthier voice overpowered such negativity, reminding me of my incredible students who validated my pedagogy over the years: those who became writers not despite me but because of me; those who became readers because I chose meaningful books as required reading in all my classes. And, most of all, those whose self-confidence became empowered because of my genuine belief in them and their writing. And, just like that, the imposter voice became muted.
My mother raised me to believe that she knew me better than I knew myself. When she told me something, I accepted her comments as truth: “You’re not good in math, but girls don’t have to be.” Even my normally patient and kind father became exasperated when helping me with dreaded word problems and added, “For someone so smart, you are stupid in math.”
Years later, while working on my dissertation for my doctorate, a renowned Ivory Tower professor was frustrated with me in my attempts to analyze some research, and with exasperation, he stated, “I know you know how to think.” I was quite astute by then to translate his words: “What’s the matter with you? Don’t you get it? And you are working on your doctorate?”
How, then, did I eventually (and quite successfully!) teach college-level critical thinking? The more self-assured voice within me grew louder, and I accepted the new classes offered to me: Critical Thinking and Argumentation. Two areas in which I felt ill-equipped and unprepared, so said those past negative voices.
To my surprise, though, my evaluations were amazingly strong; students reflected on the essential skills they acquired in my classes as I tied restorative justice into learning about the Tutsi genocide. I could really think for myself, and even better, I could help my students learn to think critically. Those past voices questioned my thinking all the while I taught critical thinking classes. The irony was not lost on me!
Currently, I work at the Los Angeles Museum of Tolerance as a facilitator and docent, giving tours to students and educators. A voice deep within reminds me of those who have majored in Holocaust and Genocide studies, which is something I would have done had the college major been available in the ’70s. I am generally self-taught on these important topics, having read anything and everything I could. Yet, I taught these subjects for decades, specializing in the Holocaust and genocide.
Yes, I won a scholarship to study at the Washington, D.C. Holocaust Museum, and yes, I was selected to participate in the two-year Master Teacher program at USC’s Shoah Foundation. But my spirit-crusher voice asks: Do I deserve to work at the museum? My healthier voice responds: Of course I do. I have much knowledge and experience to share with the public. So, I continue giving my time and expertise.
Confidence is a shaky possession for me. I would love to be that person who knows exactly what she deserves and believes she will acquire it. I am amazed that there are those people who possess a healthy dose of earned and honest self-confidence. There are those, as well, who hold minimal self-doubt; I want to emulate them. So, I act as if I have such a belief in myself, even when I don’t.
On doubtful days, it’s harder to pretend, for the volume of those voices blares within. Maybe it’s the weather or a lack of sleep. Whatever the reason, I try to cover my ears. But I have made progress, for I recognize that none of these echoed voices are truly mine; none originated from my soul.
