IMPOSTER SYNDROME: MY UNLIKELY SUPER POWER

Being an outsider meant that I had the opportunity to learn a new skill.

I am a fraud.

You’d never know it from my LinkedIn bio, which would indicate I’m an accomplished and experienced C-suite executive and NASDAQ Board Member whose career has spanned multiple industries, companies and continents. A classically trained, blue-chip brand manager who successfully crossed the Rubicon into technology and digital-first companies.

But I’m also an awkward 12-year-old with an unfortunate overbite and a ginormous forehead that she is trying to hide with even more awkward bangs. Oh, and probably dressed in her brother’s hand-me-downs. (If you really want to get to know a person, ask them a question about their childhood. It’s wild.)

So let me clarify, sometimes I feel like a fraud. There’s even a name for it — imposter syndrome. Sheryl Sandberg, Maya Angelou and John Steinbeck all claim to have experienced it at one time or another. Apparently, I’m in good company. It takes many forms and manifests in people of all shapes and sizes, but the common thread is anchored in feelings of inadequacy and a fear of failure on steroids.

I’ve come to appreciate all those times in my career when self-doubt came creeping in, or I felt like that vulnerable, insecure, don’t-really-fit-in-anywhere kid. I’ve realized the discomfort was necessary to develop and experience the thing that I am proud of — my willingness to take chances and the courage I’ve shown over the years to try something entirely new.

Throughout my career, I intentionally made choices that literally and figuratively made me a stranger in a strange land. At every career change, I was the oddball or the outsider. Being the outsider is hard. It’s awkward and it’s embarrassing. So “totally cringe,” as my Gen Z daughters would say.

But being that outsider meant that I had the opportunity to learn a new skill, a new industry, a new culture. Through this lens, my imposter syndrome has been a gift. Having awareness of what I didn’t know is the first and necessary step in my learning process. Imposter syndrome keeps me humble, which in turn has made me a great listener because I respect what other people are bringing to the table. And being a great listener who leads with curiosity and respect builds trust. And that trust enables the hard conversations and hard choices that lead to business and organizational transformation.

It’s a blow to the ego to not feel like the smartest person in the room. But we all know that high-confidence yet low-knowledge person. If imposter syndrome is on one end of the spectrum, the other end of the spectrum is “not knowing what you don’t know.” This also has a name — the Dunning Kruger Effect, which identifies a cognitive bias where people with low ability overestimate their own competence, believing they are more skilled than they actually are. They lack the knowledge to assess their own limitations. It’s cute in a toddler; in an adult, it’s kind of annoying.

In fact, it can even be dangerous. Pilots are trained to be aware of “the killing zone.” Statistically, a pilot’s most dangerous flight isn’t the first time they fly solo; it’s the pilot with 50 to 350 flight hours. A similar dynamic has been documented with surgeons where mistakes start not with the first surgery but 15 to 20 surgeries in. When confidence rises faster than competence, bad things happen.

The imposter boogeyman has taught me to be self-aware and — wait for it — given me confidence. It makes me consciously navigate between humility about my limitations and self-assurance in my own capabilities. A good leader has both, and a great leader knows when to flex each one.

Hard or uncomfortable feelings such as anxiety and vulnerability are unpleasant on the surface, but they are simply signals that, with the right mindset, can be employed for good. I’ve learned that when I’m feeling anxious, it’s a signal that I need to prepare and work a little harder. When I’m feeling vulnerable, it’s a signal that I need to connect with people who know me and know what I’m capable of, who will believe in me when I don’t fully believe in myself.

As with most things in life, it’s all about balance. If all we have is humility and doubt, we’d never leave the house because we’d be crippled by paralysis. If all we have is unwavering confidence in our own abilities, no one would want us to leave the house because we’d be insufferable human beings.

Early on in my career, imposter syndrome felt like unrelenting pressure to prove my competence. However, with time and wrinkles, I know it’s an opportunity to improve my competence. I know that I can be both skilled and humble. I don’t have to stay in my lane, but I do have to check my blind spots.

I’m practically an imposter savant and that’s OK. Maybe it’s even my superpower because it ensures I’m still curious, still learning, still growing and still getting a little bit better every day.

I think 12-year-old me would be proud, but still remind me that I look terrible with bangs. And she’d be absolutely right on both fronts.

Carrie Bienkowski (BBA ’93) is a seasoned brand strategist and operator with deep expertise in consumer-packaged goods, omnichannel retail and digital transformation. Her career has spanned multiple countries and companies including leadership roles within Fortune 500 and PE-backed entities. She most recently served as chief marketing and strategy officer at Athletico. She was recognized as a Forbes “CMO Next” in 2019, an annual list of 50 innovative leaders who are redefining the CMO role.

Photos by Matt Cashore (ND '94).