Silencing the Inner Critic: Conquering Imposter Syndrome in Communications
As more young women join the communications field, they’re usually thrust into a dynamic where everyone seems to have an outstanding resume with tons of connections. They’re exposed to powerful men who seem to only care about risk management and publicity over the livelihood of their employees.
Women are often taught to be meek and quiet in the face of adversity, leading to feelings of imposter syndrome. As a university student trying to get my feet wet in the communications game, I often feel like a fish out of water. There are women more qualified than me competing for the same roles, or leading seminars and events, all while my shyness holds me back from participating at conferences. In fact, I get so anxious around accomplished individuals that I can’t help but compare myself to them.
I find networking both exciting and terrifying. On one hand, I know how important it is to build relationships in this field as so many opportunities come from who you know rather than what you know. On the other hand, I constantly find myself doubting whether I belong in those rooms. I question whether I’m “too quiet,” or if I’m just not saying the right things. I feel like I’m shrinking in spaces where I should be growing.
And that’s the cruel trick of imposter syndrome: it convinces you that your hard work is luck, that your presence is a fluke, and that your voice doesn’t carry enough weight to matter. But the truth is, it does matter. My story, my voice, my background, they all matter.
The first time I admitted out loud that I felt like an imposter was during a media internship application process. I was staring at the page, rewriting my “qualifications” over and over, trying to make myself sound like someone I thought a recruiter would want. But the more I tried to morph into someone else, the more I realized I was erasing what made me special in the first place. I’m a first-generation Guyanese woman. I’ve had to build confidence in spaces where I don’t see myself represented often. That’s not a weakness, it’s resilience. And communications is a field that needs resilient voices.
One thing that has helped me shift my mindset is surrounding myself with stories of women who’ve felt the same way. Women like Tiffany R. Warren, a champion for diversity in advertising and the founder of ADCOLOR, have talked about the pressure of being “the only one in the room,” and how to transform that pressure into purpose. Or women like Juleyka Lantigua, who built her own media company to amplify underrepresented voices because she knew traditional spaces wouldn’t do it for her. These women remind me that imposter syndrome doesn’t go away because you suddenly become more “qualified”; it fades when you start owning your space, no matter where you are on your journey.
I’ve also started reminding myself of the things I have accomplished. They may not be front-page news, but they’re real: writing for my school paper, leading a class project, even just reaching out to someone on LinkedIn and having a genuine conversation. Those little moments add up. They are proof that I’m not an imposter: I’m in progress.
It’s easy to look around and think, “I’ll never be as good as her.” But comparison is a trap, especially for women of color who are already navigating expectations from every direction, like school, family, culture, and professional spaces. The best thing I can do is to recognize that I am enough as I am. I don’t need to code-switch or water myself down to be successful in communications.
If anything, this industry needs more people who bring fresh, lived experiences to the table. People who know what it’s like to straddle different worlds; who understand the power of storytelling, not just from textbooks, but from real life. I’m learning that my identity isn’t a barrier; it’s my blueprint.
Silencing the inner critic takes time, and I’m still working on it. But every time I speak up in class, attend a panel (even if I don’t say a word) or apply for something I’m scared of, I get a little stronger. Little by little, I’m learning to see myself not as an imposter, but as a communicator in her own right. Not perfect. But present. And that, for me, is the beginning of everything.
