I was worried I didn’t belong in science—until I discovered many researchers feel the same way

From ScienceMag:

Standing on the stage at my first overseas conference, I remember feeling dazzled. The marble hall glistened under the soft light. Experts from around the globe exchanged thoughts in low, confident tones. And I had been invited here to give a talk about my own research. It should have been a major boost to my confidence. But as I fumbled with my notes, I heard a familiar whisper: What if they find out you don’t really belong here?

I’d been experiencing impostor syndrome since long before the conference. It first crept up on me after I failed my final year of high school. I didn’t value learning then, and being surrounded by classmates who had already given up—and teachers who didn’t seem to care—only reinforced my apathy. Changing schools and then starting university gave me a fresh chance, but I was worried I would be exposed as someone who didn’t belong.

Even after I hit my stride as an undergraduate in Morocco, I often felt far removed from the global scientific community. In Morocco, at public universities, science is taught in French, and I found this a barrier to connecting with the wider, predominantly English-speaking field. The limited funding and scarce opportunities for international collaboration or career development only deepened this feeling.

My Ph.D. work made me feel like even more of an impostor. I set out to use artificial intelligence to better understand the proteins in snake venom. My background was in mechanical design and bionics, yet suddenly I was plunged into the world of neural networks, biomolecules, and data sets, struggling to connect the dots. As I tried to catch up by teaching myself the basics, I was once again terrified that someone would call me out.

However, something changed in me at that conference. Despite my fears, my presentation went well, and the encouragement I received from senior researchers gave me a muchneeded spark of validation. But the real boost came later in the meeting, after I attended a session for early-career researchers that featured talks by established scientists.

Maybe impostor syndrome wasn’t a sign of failure, but a sign of growth.

• Anas Bedraoui
• Mohammed VI Polytechnic University

I had expected the session to be filled with advice and strategies for those starting out. Instead, I got raw honesty. A highly accomplished scientist from Germany—someone whose papers I had cited—leaned forward and said, “I still feel like an impostor sometimes.” You could feel the collective sigh of relief ripple through the room. We were all thinking the same thing: Wait, you feel it, too?

One after another, the speakers shared stories of doubt. Researchers with decades of experience, prestigious awards, and countless publications all admitted to moments when they felt they didn’t measure up, that they weren’t really qualified, that they’d somehow tricked the world into believing they were experts. I couldn’t believe it. These were people I admired, people whose work defined fields. And yet, they, too, wrestled with the same ghost that haunted me.

That moment reframed everything for me. Maybe impostor syndrome wasn’t a sign of failure, but a sign of growth. These people were deeply knowledgeable—but that also meant they could see the vastness of what’s still unknown, and were all the more humble for it. If that’s what made them feel like impostors, then I was happy to be a part of that club.

Now, when I’m writing an article or giving a talk, I still sometimes hear that voice asking me what I’m doing here. But thanks to the supportive community I found at that conference, I know I’m in good company.

Still, academia needs to do more to ensure that early-career researchers feel they belong in the scientific community—particularly those from the Global South, who often don’t have access to the same networks and resources as those in more affluent countries. More international societies could provide discounted membership rates, for instance, and increase support for travel and visa applications; conference organizers should also consider holding more events in the Global South.

This kind of support opens doors, makes us feel invited and welcome, and tells us: You are needed here. And maybe that’s how we finally silence the whisper for good.

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