Are We Guilty of Perpetuating Imposter Syndrome in Women?

If you’re a fan of women in sport, chances are you recently came across the viral clip of rugby superstar Ilona Maher being asked in a CNN interview how she overcomes imposter syndrome.

I’ve been following Ilona since the Tokyo Olympics in 2021, and one thing that has always stood out is her confidence. She’s sharp, hilarious, and effortlessly engaging. Never once did I question whether she struggled with self-doubt. If anything, I subconsciously assumed she had worked through it already - like it was something she had overcome in her journey to becoming this unapologetic force of nature.

So when CNN’s Christina Macfarlane asked her, “How do you overcome imposter syndrome?” and Ilona immediately responded with, “I don’t have that,” I was first taken aback and then quietly thrilled. A woman in sport, on a global stage saying, with complete certainty, that imposter syndrome had never been a part of her reality. But the momentary joy was followed by something unexpected: discomfort. Her words didn’t just land; they unsettled something in me.

Why was I suddenly envious? Why had I allowed myself to suffer through years of second-guessing when she had simply… opted out? And more importantly, why did her confidence feel so rare? That’s when it hit me: Imposter syndrome is bullshit. A construct. A script we’ve been handed, polished by generations of messaging telling women to doubt their place, to be grateful rather than assured, to apologise for taking up space rather than claim it. The more I sat with it, the more I wondered - has imposter syndrome actually been ingrained in us as a form of control? Have we been conditioned to believe it’s natural when, in reality, it’s a by-product of systemic bias?

Now, before the inevitable backlash begins - yes, I know men experience self-doubt too. No one is saying they don’t. But let’s not ignore the data: study after study confirms that women report imposter syndrome at significantly higher rates than men. And if you add layers of intersectionality - race, sexuality, disability - it only compounds.

So, here’s a question worth asking: As sports, workplaces and industries push for greater diversity, equity, and inclusion, is imposter syndrome being further fuelled by the whisper of “you’re only here to fill a quota”? Because let’s be honest, for many of us, it’s not just about doubting our skills - it’s about constantly feeling like we have to prove we deserve a seat at the table.

As a white woman, I acknowledge that my experience is just one perspective. But even from where I stand, I’ve felt imposter syndrome creep in, lingering like an unwanted guest, questioning whether I should reach higher, demand more, take up space. The underlying message? How dare she. How dare she be confident, how dare she believe in herself, how dare she celebrate her own success.

But here’s the thing - I’m done.

Ilona Maher’s response didn’t just impress me; it liberated me. It made me realise that imposter syndrome isn’t something to manage or overcome - it’s something to reject entirely. It’s the best breakup I’ve ever had, and unlike with my toxic exes, I refuse to go back.

I have worked hard. I have sacrificed. I have built something that I believe will make a difference in the world. I spend my days uplifting others, advocating for their worth, and yet I’ve spent too long not fully recognising my own.

That stops now.

At the start of this year, I made a promise to myself: in 2025, I’m done asking for permission. Ilona’s words only solidified that resolve.

So, to the women, to the historically marginalised groups, to anyone who has ever questioned their right to be in the room, let’s stop internalising a lie that was never ours to hold.

Let’s rid society of imposter syndrome.

I know it won’t be easy, but I also know that when we start stepping fully into our worth, we give others permission to do the same. And that ripple effect? It’s unstoppable.