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‘Impostor Syndrome’—It's Not A Syndrome, And You're Not An Impostor

  • Writer: Katherine Lieber
    Katherine Lieber
  • Jan 12
  • 6 min read

Updated: Jan 20

The Debunkers take on "imposter syndrome", a term that's been running around being a complete impostor since 1980.


A businesswoman dragging a lotus behind her, symbolizing mindfulness not being the answer to life's problems.

The term "impostor syndrome" is one of the most disempowering phrases floating around in today’s professional and personal development circles.


For starters, let’s address the obvious: it’s not a syndrome. It’s not a medical condition, a mental illness, or even a fixed state of being. It’s simply a mindset—a series of learned behaviors and thought patterns often rooted in past conditioning. By labeling it a "syndrome," we turn a temporary struggle into something that feels permanent and inescapable.


And you're not an impostor. Well, maybe you ARE, in which case hopefully you're like one of those cool people on "Leverage" who in under five minutes are able to con a museum scholar into believing they're a visiting international art critic and get a personal look at the Mona Lisa, but we digress.


Today we'll unpack the origins of the term "impostor syndrome", why it's so problematic, how it reinforces exactly the narrative you’re trying to escape, and why it’s time to stop using it altogether. Instead of pathologizing normal experiences of growth and self-doubt, we’ll explore more empowering ways to frame the challenge, shifting the focus from "impostor" to "builder"—a term that highlights your courage, resilience, and progress.


Welcome to The Debunkers, a series where we challenge overused clichés and buzzwords, revealing why they miss the mark and offering meaningful alternatives. Together, we’ll replace empty phrases with positive practices that actually work. The Debunkers is created and written by Katherine R. Lieber of TitaniumBlue LLC.


You're Not An Imposter: The Mislabeling Problem


The biggest issue with “impostor syndrome” is the name itself. Words matter, and this phrase is loaded with implications that work against you. Calling it a “syndrome” makes it sound like a permanent condition, something you’re stuck with and need to “manage.” To add to the problem, the term “impostor” implies a false identity—that you’re inherently unworthy, undeserving, or a fraud. It's like trying to not imagine a pink elephant. The word's already on the table. Now you're stuck with it floating around in your thoughts.


Where did the term come from? The term was first coined in 1978 by clinical psychologists Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes in their study titled "The Impostor Phenomenon in High Achieving Women: Dynamics and Therapeutic Intervention."(1) And, as the title implies, it was originally called the "impostor phenomenon." This was a study of 150 high-achieving women who were identified as having notable success in their academic or professional field, and described a pattern of self-doubt and the persistent belief that the subjects felt they were not as competent as others perceived them to be, despite evidence of their accomplishments.


Clance and Imes found that these women often attributed their success to external factors like luck, timing, or the help of others rather than their own abilities. Despite being high-achieving woman, they feared being exposed as "frauds" and struggled to internalize their achievements.


Initially, Clance and Imes deliberately used the term "phenomenon" rather than "syndrome". They saw it as a common psychological pattern rather than a clinical diagnosis or mental disorder.


But 'Syndrome' Sounds So Much More Dramatic


But in the 1980s and 1990s, media coverage and self-help literature simplified the language, substituting "syndrome" for "phenomenon" and saddling tens of thousands of people forever with the idea they had an inescapable "condition". “Syndrome” sounded more dramatic, it hooked a broader audience, it felt more serious, it probably was simply a lot snappier to say (try it: "phenomenon", "syndrome") and it aligned with the self-help trend of framing everyday emotional struggles as dire diagnostic terms. By the 2000s, the term “impostor syndrome” had firmly entrenched itself in popular culture.


Even original researcher Clance herself expressed concerns about this. She felt that calling it a "syndrome" implied a clinical disorder or personal flaw. It diverted attention from the real external factors such as systemic bias, workplace culture, and unrealistic expectations that contribute to these feelings.


You're Not An Impostor, and It's Not A Syndrome


A syndrome is a medical or psychological term used to describe a recognizable collection of symptoms or characteristics that tend to occur together and are indicative of a particular condition, disorder, or disease. A syndrome is not necessarily a diagnosis itself but rather a set of observable signs that often have a shared underlying cause or mechanism. Properly used, the term carries medical or psychological weight, suggesting a level of clinical significance.


So, using "syndrome" for common or situational experiences, like "impostor syndrome," is unnecessarily weighted. It pathologizes what are normal reactions, and leaves you feeling struggling and shamed... just because some marketers in the 1980s thought it sounded pretty cool.


So Hey, You've Been Pathologized!


The problem runs deeper than just semantics. When you're tagged with the label of “impostor syndrome,” you're internalizing the very narrative you’re trying to escape. Instead of questioning the environments or past conditioning that created these feelings, you focus inward, as though the problem is you. It’s not. You may even believe, as someone so wrongfully said, that "you'll never get over impostor syndrome". That's horse hockey.


But, like most popular terms, the horse (and its hockey) is well out of the barn. While it's challenging to provide an exact count of books about impostor syndrome, Goodreads lists over 260 titles under the "Imposter Syndrome" shelf, and various curated lists highlight between 10 to 35 notable books on the subject. Wow. Yeah.


Even in the original study, the authors acknowledged that there were many reasons why the study participants might attribute favorable results to timing, luck, or others' assistance despite being high-achieving. In 1978, for these professional and academic women, it could easily have been the societal pressures, gender norms, and a lack of role models that contributed to these feelings, 40+ years ago (1978 - ya think?).


The researchers believed that these factors combined to create an internalized sense of doubt, even when external success could be pointed to and proven.


That's a far cry from the so-called inescapable condition labeled a syndrome we hear about today. So let's debunk on.


From “Impostor” to "Builder"


First, let’s clear something up: you’re not an impostor, and it’s not a syndrome. Have we mentioned that? OK great.


The original 150 high-achieving women felt like frauds despite clear evidence of their competence. These women attributed their success to luck, timing, or external factors, not their own hard work or skills. But they were not frauds. They were not impostors. If you’ve ever doubted your accomplishments, you’re in good company. But here’s the thing—those women weren’t frauds, and neither are you.


That's the other problem with the term -- it implies you are actually an impostor, as if you're some kind of pathological liar who says you saved the company when all you did was sit in the back room playing games on your smartphone. Try it yourself -- say "impostor syndrome" and try NOT to feel like YOU are indeed the impostor who's gaming everyone else.


So, let’s reframe it. Instead of seeing yourself as someone "with impostor syndrome" or "trying to overcome impostor syndrome,” start seeing yourself as a new term -- and yes, this is something we thought up for this post. Think of yourself as a BUILDER. Builders don’t rely on luck or timing—they create, strategize, and execute. They look at their achievements and recognize the effort, expertise, and persistence it took to get there.


Take a moment to reflect on your own accomplishments. Were they really just lucky breaks? ALL of them? REALLY? Were you really an "impostor" suffering from a "syndrome" EVERY time? Or was it YOU who put in the hours, made the connections, and solved the problems that led to those successes? Even if timing played a role, wasn’t it your preparation and readiness that allowed you to seize the opportunity?


This shift in perspective isn’t just empowering—it’s accurate.


Builders know that success isn’t about perfection. It’s about progress, learning, and adapting. When you focus on what you’ve built—and what you’re continuing to build— it is natural to feel a level of doubt, luck, timing, or that external forces contributed, and maybe some or all of these also really did help you along, but THEY WERE NOT THE WHOLE STORY.


It is natural to fleetingly feel that maybe it wasn't you after all and you're not as talented as others think, but you don't have to stick with such thoughts, because this is NOT A SYNDROME. You have your choice of what you want to think about yourself and your fantastic skills. When you move past the passive idea of "it's a syndrome" you move beyond the limiting label of feeling like an “impostor” and step fully into your role as a creator, a leader, and a person of real substance.


The next time you feel those doubts creeping in, remember the long and unusual history of the term "impostor syndrome", which (one more time, folks) isn't a syndrome, and you're not an impostor. And remind yourself: you’re a BUILDER, and your achievements are proof of what you’re capable of.


Let go of the myth and embrace your true power.


Until next time, keep reclaiming your achievement, and... Keep Debunking!


Cheers,


Katherine



(1) Clance, Pauline Rose, and Suzanne Ament Imes. "The imposter phenomenon in high achieving women: Dynamics and therapeutic intervention." Psychotherapy: Theory, research & practice 15.3 (1978): 241.

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