Am I the imposter? Invisible Disabilities and Feeling ‘sus’

Arthur Vincent

Apologies for what is probably already an outdated Among Us meme, but it gets the point across for what many disabled people have struggled with their entire lives: imposter syndrome.

“noun

noun: imposter syndrome

1. the persistent inability to believe that one's success is deserved or has been legitimately achieved as a result of one's own efforts or skills.”

The definition specifically talks about a person’s achievements in regards to their career. For example, feeling that you’re not ‘smart enough’ to be at university and you ‘tricked’ them into admitting you (anybody else relate?). However, I will be talking about it from the perspective of someone with invisible disabilities.

It’s been around 3 years since I was diagnosed with autism, and 1 year since I found out I was hard of hearing. Both of these are invisible disabilities (disabilities that aren’t immediately apparent). Just by looking at me, you wouldn’t be able to tell I was deaf and autistic. Unless you were staring really hard to find my hearing aids (or read my conveniently placed ‘I LIPREAD’ and ‘I AM DEAF - PLEASE BE KIND’ badges on my lanyard), which can be an issue to navigate the world when everybody assumes you’re not disabled. As I’ve only known about my disabilities for a few years, I’m still in my acclimation phase, trying to navigate the world with my new ‘disabled glasses’. Things I used to be able to do I no longer can, or if I can it’s with increasing difficulty. And with this recent discovery, I’ve found that imposter syndrome rears its head and eats at the corner of my brain whenever I have good days.

On my good days, I can function like most others. I don’t get sensory overload, I can carry out a conversation with some semblance of normalcy and I don’t mishear everyone and get confused. However, with my good days come the voice.

You’re not disabled enough. You’re lying for attention. You’re using your disabilities for sympathy.

Now I know none of this is true realistically. There’s no such thing as ‘disabled enough’. I am disabled and I shouldn’t have to prove my disability to anyone, especially not my naysayer’s brain. I also know I’m not lying for attention. (And I would like to note there’s also nothing inherently wrong with wanting attention either!). I know I’m not using my disabilities for sympathy either as I constantly mask them and put up a front so people can’t see just how much I’m actually struggling. As I have these thoughts, I have to wonder: where do they come from?

Society has built up a stereotype of what a disabled person ‘should’ look like, using inaccurate 2D caricatures. When you hear disabled, what do you think of? An old person sat on the priority seat on the bus? A wilted person sat in a wheelchair looking sad? An elderly blind person with a cane and sunglasses? Do you ever think about your friend in class, the healthy 20-year-old who has type 1 diabetes? Or your sister who has ADHD? Or your perky teacher who has a chronic illness? Due to the way society, and Hollywood especially, has framed disabled people as sad, dejected and miserable, we’ve internalised it and have heard the ‘but you don’t LOOK disabled!’ line more times than we can count. If I had a penny for the number of people who were shocked that someone my age (21) is hard of hearing and wears hearing aids, well, I’d be well on my way to affording a new pair.

When I see amazing disability advocates and activists fighting for equal rights and change online, I dream to be like them. For my voice to be heard and for my words to carry out through the nation to help other people. But imposter syndrome strikes again. I think that I’m too privileged to have a voice, or that other people who are ‘more disabled’ should take the spotlight. But in reality, I should be using that as an advantage. If I pass as non-disabled, then other non-disabled people will be more likely to listen to me. This is an unfortunate reality we live in where disabled voices are silenced, but we can work to change that. I can use my position of power to boost up other voices who don’t have a platform.

I know that this voice will never truly go away. No matter how much I try to squash the ableist voice in my head, it will always be there. But I can fight it, because by fighting it, I’m fighting against the decades of systemic ableism that’s deeprooted into our history, laws and life.

And as I confront the imposter syndrome, I reply back.

I am disabled and I am enough.