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On Sept. 26, I participated in Chatter and Cheers, a reception at the Harvard Graduate School of Education intended to foster conversations between students and alumni. I was invited to be the VIP at a table featuring alumni working in nonprofits.

Throughout the evening, I shared stories about starting a nonprofit overseas, building an organization focused on empowering North Korean refugees, and about my previous career as an education policy analyst working in Washington. Many were eager to learn about my nonprofit work, how Freedom Speakers International operates internationally and the challenges of advocating for marginalized communities.

As we spoke, an unexpected yet familiar topic popped up. A few students confided in me about their struggles with impostor syndrome, expressing doubts about their place at Harvard. A few of the students returned to my table to talk later.

One student later approached me with a comment that stayed with me. She said, "I wish I had met you sooner." She explained that during her initial months at Harvard, she had questioned whether she truly belonged. Our conversation, she said, helped her realize she was someone who brought value to the university.

I am not the only one who has heard such things from Harvard students. In her article "Notes from the Dudley Underground," Jackie Yun, a member of Harvard's Office of Student Services, describes impostor syndrome as an "internal experience of intellectual phoniness" that can be especially intense for graduate students. Many students she encounters feel like "frauds" despite their accomplishments, often discounting their efforts as the result of luck or situational factors rather than genuine talent. Yun reminds students that "you earned your spot here" and encourages them not to compare themselves to others.

In a Harvard Kennedy School article, Abeera Ahmed, a Master of Public Policy student, discusses the mixed emotions students experience when they receive their admission offers. She describes how many students "feel like the proverbial small fish in a big pond — out of depth, not quite sure whether to flow with the tide or against it." Ahmed reassures students that "the admissions folks know what they are doing. You did not receive your admission letter by mistake." She reflects on how, for herself and her peers, impostor syndrome can feel like "a niggle at the back of my brain" or "a pit in my stomach." Her words capture the intensity of this experience for many students facing both culture shock and self-doubt.

For those experiencing impostor syndrome, the Harvard Business Review offers practical steps to mitigate these effects, including recognizing impostor feelings when they emerge, talking openly about these doubts and reframing failure as a learning opportunity. The best way to manage these feelings, they suggest, is to build connections within the community. Engaging with peers, forming friendships and accessing counseling services can all help foster a sense of belonging. Harvard's Health Services offers counseling and mental health resources to support students in navigating these intense feelings. For those struggling privately, seeking out these resources can provide a space to process and overcome their doubts.

Impostor syndrome, as first described by psychologists Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes in 1978, refers to the persistent belief that one's success is unearned and that one is at risk of being exposed as a fraud. While initially studied in high-achieving women, it is now recognized as a universal experience, affecting people across genders, backgrounds and industries.

The main characteristics of impostor syndrome are (1) feeling like a fraud who has deceived others into overestimating their abilities (2) attributing success to external factors, such as luck, timing, or external support rather than personal talent or effort (3) perfectionism in terms of setting unattainably high standards to compensate for perceived inadequacies.

At elite institutions like Harvard, impostor syndrome often flourishes, although staffers assure students that they belong. I agree with these assurances, as I argue below, but there is one perspective that may explain why some genuinely feel like they are impostors. Rebecca E. J. Cadenhead's article in Harvard Magazine sheds light on why some students may experience these doubts. Many who enter elite schools prepare intensely to boost their admissions chances — joining activities they didn't genuinely care about, taking prep courses and sometimes even embellishing their achievements. As one student put it, "Some of my classmates have completed groundbreaking scientific research, are youth poet laureates, Olympians, or world-famous activists. Many were high school class presidents or debate champions. At least a few lie about their achievements; during my first year an acquaintance quietly left campus after the college found out that he'd fabricated much of his application." This intense competition and pressure to stand out can leave students feeling inauthentic, contributing to a sense that they don't truly belong.

While these feelings may be understandable, I encourage students to focus on making the best of their situations. They may have taken paths that felt less than authentic, but often, they were simply playing the game based on the rules set by others. What matters now is how they move forward and make their experiences at Harvard meaningful.

Over the past few years, I have mentored several Harvard students, many of whom have confided in me about their struggles with impostor syndrome. They all started with doubts about their place at Harvard, questioning their worthiness and accomplishments. Yet, through encouragement and guidance, all but one have come to embrace their acceptance, finding confidence in their abilities and realizing the value they bring to the university. Their journeys remind me that impostor syndrome, while common, can be overcome with the right mindset and support.

I have encountered this feeling of impostor syndrome not just at Harvard but among working professionals, early career employees and even high-level leaders who experience doubt about whether they truly belong.

A Korean graduate student I mentored in Korea was invited as part of a team to interpret for the Korean president. She doubted her ability and wondered if they had chosen the wrong person. I reminded her, "Someone who knows your potential chose you for this role." Then I asked her to imagine facing that professor and expressing her self-doubt. "Would you let the professor know you don't feel worthy?" I asked. "Because if I were that professor, I'd be thinking, ‘I put my reputation on the line for you. You need to prove me right. Go out there, interpret well, and show everyone why you belong here.'" A few weeks later she informed me that she had changed her mindset and was praised for her interpretation.

She thanked me for making a difference in her life and changing her mindset. She asked me how I am always so confident. In part 2 of this blog post, I will reveal my secrets.

Casey Lartigue Jr. (CJL@alumni.harvard.edu) is a member of the Harvard Graduate School of Education's (HGSE) Alumni Council, an HGSE alumni admissions ambassador, a member of the Harvard Clubs of Korea, Seattle, Broward County, Fairfield County and Washington, and a member of Harvard Alumni for Education and Harvard Alumni Entrepreneurs.