A month ago, I had a work meeting that had me on my knees moments after it ended, wondering to myself, “How am I supposed to do this?” The expectations seemed too high for someone like me, the graduate school equivalent of a freshman struggling to balance three jobs, three organizations/research projects, and three classes. I was just in the learning phases, I am only 23, I am not qualified to do this. How could they have made this mistake in hiring ME? 

The next day I set up a meeting with my boss, the professional equivalent of “Hey, you made a mistake, I’m not who you think I am, I can’t do this.” Having to set up a meeting at a place I had been working for less than a month to share my flaws and fears felt like career suicide. I was trembling as the Zoom call began, my boss's friendly face now something I feared. 

The exact semantics of that call are unimportant, but what it came down to was this. The moment I stopped speaking, my boss calmly looked at me with the most impassive expression and uttered the words “Well, it sounds like you have some imposter Syndrome. It happens to everyone. Let’s talk about what we can do.” 

I was dumbfounded; Imposter Syndrome? I mean, yes, earlier that morning I had talked through each of my involvements in turn and wondered how I had managed to trick each group into thinking I was worthy of being involved, but that is just truth, right? 

The more I thought and listened, the more I began to wonder how a man who has known me less than a month somehow believed in me more than I did myself. The answer? Imposter Syndrome. Imposter Syndrome is exactly what it sounds like, something that happens when an individual, no matter how qualified, feels as if they do not belong and are not good enough to be where they are. Frankly put, they feel like an imposter. And so did I. 

Theorizing on why I feel this way leads me to conclusions saturated with historical, cultural, and personal context. The reasons are my own but the implications are far reaching. Feeling like an imposter infiltrates everything I do, from how I talk and feel about myself to the work I refuse to take credit for. 

Tying Imposter Syndrome back to the Myth of Meritocracy is really where I begin to see the connections between the life I am leading and the one I am striving for. For this unfamiliar, the Myth of Meritocracy is the American ideal commonly referred to as “Pulling yourself up by your bootstraps.” The Myth of Meritocracy states that if you work hard enough, you will succeed. Forget economic, political, racial, and ethnic backgrounds. Don’t worry about the COVID-19 crisis, ailing parents, younger siblings, immigration status, gender roles, or sexuality. If you work hard enough, you will get that corner office. So says the Myth of Meritocracy. But there is a reason it is called a myth. 

As I mentioned before, I am working three jobs and dedicated to three other projects looking to improve the campus climate at Texas A&M University. I work a minimum of 28 hours a week, along with attending about 6 hours worth of classes, completing homework assignments, and attending a minimum of 4 hours a week of other meetings. This puts me at 38 hours as a baseline for my week, before factoring in homework, my third job, or other meetings I have on a bi-weekly basis. 

Now to clarify before we move on, I am not saying this for pity. I recognize there are others who work longer and harder than I do. I know multiple people in my own cohort who I could say this about, and some of them are also married and commuting hours a day for work or class. We are all just working as best we can to get by financially, academically, and socially, and I am grateful for every single opportunity I have been able to take advantage of this semester. 

What I am saying is that according to the Myth of Meritocracy, myself, as well as my classmates, should be living lavish, successful lifestyles--triving, not surviving, to put it in modern lingo. But we are not, because we are teachers, assistants, and tutors. We are not making bank and I would argue that as hard as we work, many of us still feel as if we are not doing enough. This is where Imposter Syndrome comes in. When the Myth of Meritocracy eventually fails, Imposter Syndrome steps in to tell us it is our fault. 

Imposter Syndrome is dangerous because of how it nags at the back of my brain, constantly telling me I am a failure. Instead of letting this voice drag me down, I attempt to fight back. Organizing, writing, reading, researching, studying, meeting, and dialoguing constantly each day to stay ahead of the curve. 

Apart from my boss, I have had multiple other friends and colleagues raise me up with their kind words, believing in me when I can not. The other day after hearing about all I was doing, a friend texted me saying “Hardest worker in the room. No doubt.” One of my new mentors I admire most called me an “asset to the university” because of all the work I am doing on campus. A treasured colleague who is also in graduate school remarked on my dedication to our project and told me I was “in it to win it.” 

This last comment came after I told my colleague that the reason it looked like I was driving during our Zoom meeting was because I was in the backseat of my car, laptop propped up, wireless hotspot on, phone plugged into a portable charger, in a parking lot somewhere in Brenham. You see, I had to take my cat to get spayed in Brenham because it was half the cost, but did not want to drive home just to drive back a few hours later, wasting precious gas and time. So instead I sat in four different parking lots to take part in four different meetings on a rainy Tuesday in October while I waited anxiously for my cat to get out of her first ever surgery. 

This is where COVID-19 enters the picture. I’ve already talked about the tie between the Myth of Meritocracy and Imposter Syndrome, but what I have not touched on is how COVID-19 compounds these to make their effects even more noticeable in 2020. Because, in an attempt to reach for that proverbial green light of success in the distance, I have taken on the aforementioned conglomerate of projects and jobs. So many, in fact, that if it were not for COVID-19, I am not sure I would have been able to do even half of what I am doing now. 

My Brenham example is just one of many experiences this semester that illuminate how much labor can be done when individuals work on Zoom. Traditionally, I would have had to take a half-day off to get my cat spayed, or hope they are open on the weekends (they are not, for the record). Instead of acting as a substitute until 3:50 pm only to run a meeting at 4:00 pm in my car, I would have had to have chosen between my job or my organization. Instead of leaving my work meeting a half hour early to convene with my research group just seconds later, I would have to choose between my job or my project. The examples go on and on, reminding me of the day I spent 6 hours in back to back meetings with 4 different groups of people, only to take a thirty minute break to eat dinner before heading to my virtual class shortly thereafter. 

There is no clear ending to this blog post, no note on what can be done, no revolutionary thought wrapping everything in a bow. Life is not work, it’s not academia, there isn’t always a hard earned, yet victorious conclusion. The one piece of advice I can offer is this. Before you jump at every job or, alternatively, hate yourself for not doing enough, remember that who you are and what you’re doing is enough. You, your family, society, your economic status, they may suggest something else, but they are incorrect. By virtue of being yourself, you’re not being an imposter. Your merit is internal and cannot be stolen. These are things I find myself repeating over and over again to dispel my Imposter Syndrome, the Myth of Meritocracy, and the ever present impact of COVID-19.

- Delaney Couri

Delaney is a masters student in the Department of Teaching, Learning, and Culture.