Imposing
Imposter syndrome is something we’re supposed to push through, they tell me. It’s all in my head, they tell me. You can do anything you want! So they tell me.
But in reality, those insidious messages — that I’m not good enough and that my existance is an inconvenience to everyone else — come from outside of me. In a world that demonises femininity and poverty and discards trans women like yesterday’s trash, these messages are repeated with the specific intention of making me feel like I’m imposing.
It’s the guy on the underground who stares at my make-up, his hands clenched into fists. It’s the woman who had me removed from a women/lesbian/trans space on my first day in Berlin for wearing the wrong shoes. It’s the endless external signs in my political world that, not only are trans women fake and so much less than, but people with bodies like mine are the enemy.
And that’s why we are so fucking amazing. To survive in this world, to push past a culture that hates us and subcultures that hate us even more, and still be who we are… that’s everything. It takes resilience that many will never know.
Two years ago, I could barely speak, had barely found my voice and last weekend I stood in front of two hundred people and founded an international organisation, Trans Feminism International. I represented my community as best I could. I stood tall. It’ll be forgotten, as the achievements of people like me so often are, but for the record, I was fucking beautiful. And strong enough to push through the dual terrors of visibility and risk. I should be proud.
Founding an organisation is all about allowing myself to dream. I dream of dismantling imposter syndrome and the culture that creates it. I dream of us lifting each other up not shutting each other down. I dream of creating new spaces and alliances that actually meet our needs.
I’ll be honest with you: I’m done with imposter syndrome. And I’m done holding my tongue.
