Replace Imposter Syndrome with Proud, Fearless Native by Cliff Taylor
A few months ago I made a trip to Powell’s in Portland and the first thing I did was go to check out the Indian books. I walked right to where I knew they were, caught a tall, dark guy standing in the aisle, clocked him as a Powell’s employee, and found myself continuing to walk on by, as if I had no intention of going where he was. A flush of something moved through me. What was it? In a second, I knew what it was: it was that old feeling of not wanting to be seen as the Indian who needed to read Indian books to know what being Indian was. It was a feeling that used to follow me around for years. In the modern lingo, it was a touch of the old Imposter Syndrome. I sucked it up, circled back, and went to where the employee was standing. I’d come to look at the Indian books and so, incrementally relaxing, I looked at the Indian books.
Imposter Syndrome. I felt it a lot more strongly when I was a teenager and when I was in my twenties. Everyone knew what being Indian really was but not me. I didn’t grow up on a reservation, wasn’t surrounded by the culture, didn’t have any relatives really teaching me much, wasn’t schooled really in anything but the same American way that everyone else was. But I wanted to know. I yearned to know. My insides were a big wildfire of longing for everything that I didn’t feel like I had, that now composes the essence and bulk of my every day: a way of life rooted in my people’s existence, a past populated with elders, ceremonies, tribal experiences, Indians, a strong ancestral flavor to my character, worldview, to everything. It took me many years to leave those specters behind, much suffering and perseverance, the help of countless relatives who knew how important it was to help the young people find their way, Sundancing, fasting, traveling, having faith. I had to go on that long journey that is maybe the great archetypal journey for Indians in these times: the journey of growing back on an individual level that which was lost, stolen, ripped away, shot, death-marched, and systematically taken from our Indian people. I feel like I have gone far but really, I am still on that journey.
Imposter Syndrome is a big bucket of bullshit. “History is identity,” wrote newspaperman Leonard Pitts. Every Native person walking around on Turtle Island right now possesses a tremendous history, no matter how much of it is intact or accessible to them, and by virtue of that fact alone they have the indestructible root system of their people’s identity within themselves. That is something no one can take away. It’s in the blood (and not a certain quantity of blood; it’s a qualitative element, a qualitative reality). Meaning: if you’re Native, you’re Native. Ignore it and it won’t go away, probably just haunt you or haunt your family. Embrace it and watch its ancestral power grow and gain palpable, beautiful substance in your life, in your family’s life. Imposter Syndrome says that you’re a fraud, you’re a fake, you’re not the real deal, you’re trying to fool yourself or fool the people around you. Lots of Natives feel it for all the same reasons I did -didn’t grow up with this, didn’t have that, didn’t have anyone to teach you, no Native culture to educate you- but really it’s just another part of how the dominant culture has attempted to erase us. It’s a bunch of anti-Indian ideas all compressed together and planted into generations of our Indian people’s psyches, a poisonous mass of things constantly whispering, constantly telling you to turn your back on the one thing that your heart knows it doesn’t want to, on your people, on your own spirit. Do you know what I mean? I think you do.
Imposter Syndrome wants you to doubt yourself, to doubt yourself right into oblivion. It’s a sad, sorry thing. I used to have to duke it out with it and I’ve met countless Natives who’ve had their own struggles with it. There’s so much pain in being Native, so much incredibly difficult history to contend with, threading through everyone whom we’re the most close with. But I want to say, let that thing go, that doubt, toss it into the fire, digest it and turn it into the material of a real tribal identity. Think of all the ones who were taken out by the forces of the dominant culture and resolve to dig into the actual beauty of who you are as Native person so that you can be a part of creating a different story. Muscle through those difficult passages of ‘not enough this, not enough that’ and keep arriving on the other side where you actually have real cool Native knowledge and experience and toughness that you can then share and utilize to help others with their struggles and suffering. Be a part of the revolution and learn how to be a kick-ass, dignified, happy, joyous, healed Indian, become passionate about making a new history, because just in case no one ever told you, we can do that, we can make a new history. Carry yourself with healthy pride and watch how all of your ancestors and cool relatives around you pour their energies into the cause of all that is good inside of you; carry that cause on your shoulder like a bright blanket your grandma made with her very own hands, that she asked you to carry for the family. Leave all of that Imposter Syndrome stuff behind and dive into the utterly rewarding work of becoming the kind of Indian you came here to become. Do it for the people, do it even for your own humble self, and do it well.
What I think maybe a lot of people need to hear is that a real, substantial identity is something that grows into place over time; give the growth of your Indian self time; have some patience with yourself, maybe give yourself some of the care and love you never got growing up, be easy on the pieces the story of your life has given you. We’re in a time of Indian identity regeneration, as much as we’re in a time of cultural and spiritual regeneration; they go hand in hand, or are two halves of the same thing. It’s actually kind of cool. I’m of the belief that some of our best ancestors saw it coming, this period where we’d have to rebuild ourselves and learn to shine again as Indian people. And luckily, we’re surrounded by resources. How to grow the seeds of your Indian identity into something that you’re genuinely happy with, that’s powerful enough to chase off that boogeyman of Imposter Syndrome in yourself and others? Connect and hang out with other Indians; just being around other Natives activates all kinds of spiritual things that are totally ready to work in your favor, to breathe life into so much that you might feel is lost. Find community. Talk to old people; that’s been about the single best piece of advice I’ve had in my pocket when it comes to this conversation, this journey; TALK TO OLD PEOPLE. Immerse yourself in what you can of your tribe’s life. Get involved. Pray. Use all of this online reality to educate yourself, to find connections to things and people that feed your soul’s belly. Do all the stuff. Keep doing it. Have experiences. Run old words of your people’s language through your mind and mouth and understand that every time you speak your people’s language you’re living the victory of all victories; your people’s essence is vibrantly alive again in the moment, in your person. Memorize your tribe’s Creation Story, or another tribe’s if yours isn’t available. Sing your people’s songs. Go to powwow. Deepen your care for the future generations. Trust in the organic nature of how what was taken from us is growing back through your own Native identity journey and carry your experience with unwavering strength, unkillable love, and the humor of all the best laughs you’ve ever been a part of. Replace Imposter Syndrome with Proud, Fearless Native.
When I was young I couldn’t talk. I was shy, mute. I constantly trembled with self-consciousness. I felt a lot of what our hurt ancestors were still locked in the unending death-throes of their trauma with. Like countless others, they tried to wipe us Poncas from the face of the earth. As a kid, my little body felt that. It was hard to bear. They said, You’re gone, You’re not Indian, You’re nothing. That’s what they said; I’m sure many of you heard it too. But then I heard other voices. They came from Indian mouths. They said, Your life is meant to be the rest of the story, Your life is the story of how the Ponca will be here forever, Your life is going to be about how Indians can find healing and joy and beautiful happiness. The first group wanted me to go away; the second group wanted me to understand what the ancestors understand. Listen to that second group in your life. Listen to the Indians who’ve done the things you yourself aspire to do someday. Listen to that voice that’s there when you close your eyes, that’s telling you, You are an Indian, You are my descendant, You are here to grow back all the things you think you’ve lost, You are as real as your strongest ancestor.
By Cliff Taylor
Cliff Taylor is an enrolled member of the Ponca Tribe of Nebraska. He is the author of The Memory of Souls, a memoir about the Sundance and his life/walk with the little people. He can be reached through his website @ www.cliffponca.com