Once upon a time there was a woman with stars in her eyes and a freshly minted degree in computer science. She went to work and while she never realized it was happening, it started right away.
“I want the girl on my team,” the team lead said, without knowing anything about her. And so, she became a database programmer.
Later, it would get worse. Accusations of inappropriate behavior — her fault, of course. She needed to be nicer, more professional, less argumentative. Clothes were deemed “too revealing”. “You need a sweater,” they said, in 100 degree Fahrenheit July midwest summer. “Your tits look like they’re going to fall out of that shirt. You should have more respect for yourself.”
It felt normal. It became normal. That’s just how business is done, that’s just how people behave. It never occurred to her that it could be different, or even that it should be.
Then she went back to school. That’s when it got bad.
“We know you have a full time job and a family, but if you really want to succeed in security, you need to have your butt in the chair. You can’t expect people to spoonfeed you everything,” a professor told her when she asked questions, needed help.
Three years later she had another freshly minted degree in this weird sub-field called “cyber security”. Maybe you’ve heard of it?
At work, she was voluntold to run a pre-audit for the organization’s main network, keeping three thousand people connected and critical information flowing. Nothing major, they promised. Just find the gaps, help was coming from higher headquarters. “We know you’re new,” they said. “The help will guide you, show you what to do.” She’d been in security for just three months.
The help told her she was so bad at her job she deserved to be in jail.
In response, management shifted her and shrunk her scope of responsibilities. One user stopped by with a request. “You don’t need to perform static analysis on my C++ code. C++ is an interpreted language, the requirement doesn’t apply,” he said. For anyone not familiar, this is a lie on par with the phrase “2+2=5”.
Later, he would tell a colleague that she was preventing work from being accomplished, and that she wasn’t capable of understanding the work at hand.
She fell into the easy trap, internalizing that. Believing that she didn’t measure up to her colleagues and peers. Thinking that she was out of her depth — having been pushed there by repeated exposure to such discrimination and micro-aggressions. It’s no wonder she fought imposter syndrome as a result. It’s not fair or easy to ask her, then, to heal herself; but that’s the way of it.
The good news is imposter syndrome can be managed — but she didn’t know that yet.
It was a stable job, with adequate compensation, and she’d been there nearly a decade. She knew the industry, for better or for worse. She had allies — who were mired in the same frustrations. She also came home crying from work, every day.
She took a desperate chance — and quit. The next place would be better, had to be better, surely. She was careful, so careful, in the choosing.
Eventually, she found herself at a crossroads — one road promised safety and security, a well-traveled path. The other? Full of unknowns, and she was afraid. Despite her fear she choose to take control of her own life and live it on her terms, instead of doing what society told would make her happy. That was her first step in managing her imposter syndrome — actively choosing the life she wanted. How can she be an
imposter if her life is in her own hands?
So she leapt — not completely without looking, but without thinking it through all the way. If she messed up, her safety net was gone. It was new and exciting and terrifying. She learned a lot about a new industry — but it wasn’t better, in the end. She still wasn’t “a real engineer”. She asked too many questions. She didn’t work hard enough.
She found it harder to stop feeling like an imposter when she was in such a toxic environment. She naturally reacted and got mad, pushed back, complained — and was labeled aggressive, difficult, and not a team player. She learned — painfully, slowly — how to navigate the system with the smile, only to find that’s only part of the trick, if an important part. Leaving the toxic environment wasn’t always an option.
Still, she couldn’t waste energy attempting to fix or control a toxic majority. She was burning out in the attempt to make things change or meet the ever-changing goalposts. She had to learn that it was worth putting herself and her health — mental and otherwise — first. Her energy was better spent looking back at earned degrees and certificates and remembering that they are just that — earned. There were any
number of concrete accomplishments she could point to that no one could take away from her. The knowledge that she’d gained over the years of study and work — no one could take that away.
She’s still learning how not to downplay accomplishments and how to remember just how far she’s come from the starting line.
Every time she took a chance, she learned. Every time she had to scramble and fight, she learned. Every time she embraced the chaos, she learned. It became easier to identify what wasn’t working in her approach, in her career, in her life. That morphed into identifying what wasn’t going to work no matter what and embracing a sense of serenity. The last piece became how to fix it; having the wisdom and the
courage to make changes in her life. She took control. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t without its bumps and bruises, sometimes literally.
Every day, she showed up. She focused on the work at hand — not just the security work, but internally reflecting. She looked at herself, focused on her own journey, was honest with herself, and healed slowly, piece by piece, over time.
She pushed herself, hard, on every level. One day it so happened that all the work she was doing crystalized in a single shining moment, a moment that was also marked by complete and total exhaustion both mentally and physically. Yet — she succeeded, beyond her wildest dreams.
The dam had broken — she could accomplish goals — and suddenly everything else didn’t seem so insurmountable. She learned to define what it meant to have realistic goals and what success looked like, for her.
Eventually, something different happened. She asked questions and … got answers. She asked more questions, and got more answers. Sometimes, the answers weren’t at hand — but that was ok. “Huh, good point. Let’s try it!” was their response. Or, “huh, never thought about it like that, tell me more!”. Or, “you’ve got this — trust yourself”.
An impossible concept just a few years prior.
Meeting one person turned into meeting more people, which turned into meeting even more people. Attending conferences quickly became an opportunity to visit in-person. Friendships were born. She learned to trust what they had to say about her abilities, experience, and accomplishments.
The imposter syndrome is still there, but muted. She had learned how to trust herself. She had learned how to put aside the negative remarks and commentary from people who only spoke to tear others down.
She had found her tribe. Are there problems? Of course. But this tme, it feels different. It is different.
This time, she has people willing to teach, and people willing to learn right alongside her. People that don’t try and gatekeep knowledge, or demand that she was hardcore 10x engineer, or demand her full attention be on security with no room for outside interests.
She doesn’t have all the answers. In fact, most days feel like it’s one wrong step before everything collapses around her. It’s hard to learn to have faith that it won’t. Inspiring, energizing, mentoring? Forget about it.
She still has to do daily work to counteract the deeply ingrained imposter syndrome. It takes a certain amount of confidence, trust, and faith in herself. It takes recognizing the problem thoughts and the associated panic of “I can’t do this!” in order to turn it into “I can do this, because I’ve done this before” or “I can do this, because I’m confident in the steps”. It takes knowing, really knowing, that no one else
really has it together, either. Most folks are just doing the best they can.
She still tries to compare herself to others, even though that’s a losing battle. This is her story; not anyone else’s.
The rest of it? It’s taking chances. She applied for the reach positions she didn’t think she’d get. She said yes to doing the crazy things. She wondered “what if”. Did it always turn out great? Of course not. She learned a few life lessons in the hardest and most painful ways possible. Other times, though, were totally unexpected and magical: seeing great works of art from Van Gogh and Michelangelo. Tasting stunning food in India. Training BJJ with UFC pros.
Likeminded people, she found, over time, tend to find each other. The trick is that she kept searching, was open to the possibilities, and grabbed opportunities when they appeared. Having a community and confidants — an intentionally built tribe — means the world, and it changes everything. The most important lesson she learned: she belonged in the cyber security industry.
That’s important enough to repeat: Know that you belong. You are not an imposter because you belong here. There is a place for you in security. No matter how scared you are, know that you have the experience and background to succeed in the industry, without exception.
So go down that rabbit hole and through the looking glass to write your story, because she — and you — belong.
Cyber security Story teller 