Like many people, I’ve been doing lots of reflection during the pandemic. One of the things I’ve thought a lot about is how I’ve become much more confident and assertive since finishing my PhD. Over the last couple of years, I’ve built a bit of a professional reputation for myself as someone who isn’t afraid to ask questions and have my opinions heard.
It’s a big development for me and I’m very proud of it, because I wasn’t always like this. When I was a grad student, I constantly second-guessed myself and was always worried about getting things wrong. Like many students, I was told to talk about my research as often as possible, in every medium possible – from research presentations to Twitter, posters to 3-Minute Thesis competitions. And to be honest, I did all those things, but I hated it every step of the way. I constantly worried about being wrong and having my mistakes pointed out by my audience. I had nervous breakdowns before every talk I gave. The one term I TA’ed a second-year undergrad course, I spent countless hours researching everything I had to teach, because I didn’t trust that I knew the material well enough. I had so much anxiety in the months leading up to my comprehensive exam that I drank nearly every day and started taking sleep medication (it didn’t work, because turns out that for a small minority of people – including myself – a potential side effect of sleeping pills is insomnia. Go figure).
In short, I had debilitating impostor syndrome, which showed up most when I had to open my mouth and talk about things I was supposed to be an expert on. Partly, it was because I was an international student who didn’t have the same experience that so many of my peers had. I’d done a fair amount of research and had an internship at a biotech company under my belt when I started grad school, but most of the students in my program had done their undergrads in the same department, and had many more months of research experience than I did – sometimes in the same lab as where they ended up doing their PhDs. I spent most of my PhD worrying about how I never seemed to know as much as them, and couldn’t think quickly on my feet and answer questions intelligently the way everyone else seemed to be able to.
The breakthroughs came in the last year or so of my program. I finally had enough data for a paper that other researchers in my area thought was interesting, and I knew enough people in the community that I had supporters in the room whenever I gave a talk. But the biggest breakthrough was when I finally wrote up and defended my thesis, and realized there was no magical cloak of wisdom or intelligence around people with the title of ‘Dr’. I’d finally done the thing I thought I wasn’t smart enough to do. It was a huge shot of confidence – not necessarily because I finally had that title myself, but because I realized that I wasn’t lacking some mystical quality that made all my peers smarter than me.
Once that happened, I immediately started to notice changes. I’d raise my hand and ask questions when other people presented their work – not because I wanted to show how smart I was, but because I finally felt OK admitting I didn’t understand something they said. I became more comfortable with other people challenging my ideas. I started owning what I knew and, more importantly, what I didn’t. Of course, having a few years of experience and genuine expertise helped. I then carried those habits forward into the workplace, where I was lucky enough to join a team that valued collaboration and sought out and respected my opinions from day one, and things only improved from there.
In hindsight, academia was a tough environment for someone with terrible impostor syndrome. I heard over and over again that I was expected to be ‘an expert’. Of course, in the early years, I could hardly claim to be an expert on anything, but ignorance is not looked upon kindly in academia. Once I felt safe admitting I didn’t know everything, I became much more comfortable not knowing things. It became less about what I knew, and more about how I was going to find that information.
There are some people who do really well in academia. They’re great presenters and communicators, and they know their stuff and exude confidence. But if you struggle because you constantly feel like you’re not as smart as your peers, know that you’re not alone. Not everyone finds their voice during their PhDs. I’ve met plenty of smart people who have done the required work and are all deserving of the title of ‘Dr.’, who shine so much brighter once they leave academia. Partly it’s because they find a career that they’re better suited to, and partly it’s because they no longer feel the weight of needing to appear to be the smartest person in the room.
I’m a big believer in gaining confidence through experience, and I think every grad student (and everyone in general, really) should be constantly challenging themselves to learn more, ask questions, and improve their communication skills. No matter what you end up doing after your PhD, presentation skills, communication skills, and the ability to ask questions are all valuable skills to have. However, understand that if you’re not naturally confident doing these things, it will take time and lots of practice to get to a point where you feel good about them (oh, and no amount of your friends and supervisors telling you “you’ll be fine” will make you feel better).
If you’re still trying to find your voice, please don’t give up, because it’s so rewarding when you finally do. It’s like playing on a whole other level. But don’t worry if it takes you a while and you don’t find it before you graduate. Just keep on searching for the right environment and career for you.
I hope you find your voice, and when you do, I hope you use it well.
More resources on impostor syndrome:
APA article on Impostor Syndrome in graduate students
I Have A PhD, Now What? 