Today, imposter syndrome left me feeling paralyzed.
A woman friend I like and admire had made an introduction for me.
And after I thanked her, I sat at my desk feeling totally paralyzed by the implications:
Someone else had put their good name on the line for me.
What if it was revealed that I was imperfect?
What if I reflected badly on them?
Should I ask them to withdraw their support?
I realize—now more than ever—the extra energy it takes to get ahead as a woman. All I could do was imagine was that their trust in me was a misstep that would bring my friend spiraling back down.
I’ve been very fortunate to be buoyed many times in my career by other women.
Women who helped me get my foot in the door for a job, offered practical advice about a professional decision, or sometimes just perspective.
It is no small thing when women unlock the secrets of success for one another.
Once, during an annual review, my boss asked me where I sat on a scale of one to four, and I suggested a three. She looked at me silently for a moment and pointedly told me to write four.
The four would net me my first serious raise.
Another openly shared her salary with me, helping me negotiate for her position after she left. It’s a practice I’ve followed for the women behind me ever since.
The greatest gift we women can give to each other is to celebrate and champion our successes, and make them remarkable.
It takes a certain kind of woman to turn away from her fellow women, but I’ve seen plenty of those too. Women who crawl on the backs of other women to get ahead. Women who sabotage and scheme. Women who strive to get into the boy’s club and then shut the door firmly behind them.
You are not welcome here.
A few weeks ago we hired a young contractor to join our team. At 25, she’s bright and talented. She does thoughtful work, but when she completes her day, she exits the office to rejoin her life. She doesn’t read my emails late into the night, she goes to concerts with her friends. It’s an enviable position, and a good reminder to reset my own priorities.
She came to me this morning to tell me she’s leaving her contractor role for a new permanent position. I’m happy for her, she’ll be an asset to the team she joins.
She thanks me for my mentorship, for my edits. She thinks it’s made her a stronger writer. She tells me that she hopes someday in the future she can work for me again.
I tell her that I will always be there to open a door for her where I can. I will always put in a good word.
I worked all day to calm that inner voice. I re-read my resume. I power posed in front of the mirror. I listened to Justin Bieber on repeat. I flexed my new independent audio producer cred. I wrote something and had it accepted to a favorite publication.
And then I sat down to write a letter to a young woman, to remind her—when she needs it—that she is talented. and capable, and more than enough.