Unmasking the Imposter Syndrome: From Shadows unto Light
“My Big Fat Greek Wedding” & Other Conversations
Dr. Shradhdha Shah
My husband Nikhil and I recently rewatched the classic film “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” from 2002 — our two Frenchie pugs were sprawled across two-thirds of the couch and we, as lowly humans huddled together in the remaining edges of the dog-friendly, fur-resistant, anti-allergy fancy-pants couch that we bought on discount. We didn’t buy it on discount to save money — no, no — it was really an experiment to see how long this one would last with the dogs hogging up the business class seats.
The Greek American film we were watching has been brought to life by a largely Italian cast, written by a Canadian screenwriter and is about her own real-to-reel experiences while growing up. Toula, the main voice in the film is played by Nia Vardolos, who was nominated for multiple awards for this sleeper hit of the early 2000s.
Toula’s father is an artfully drawn, very real caricature of a patriarch who huddles towards old traditions to cope with changing times in a new country. He is a first-generation immigrant, who clings to the pride of having a Greek lineage. At the same time, he adapts to “modern” American products through set rituals like using a disinfectant called Windex to cure everything from joint pain to skin eruptions. A way to cope with the imposter syndrome? Maybe.
Toula, on the other hand wants to do more, say more, be more than the stereotype that she knows she isn’t. But how? And when? Should she? Shouldn’t she? But how could she? And will she?
Be so much more.
In an unforgettable scene, the family’s matriarch, Toula’s mum shares iconic words with her youngest daughter. Struggling under her father’s conservative expectations, Toula is advised “The man is the head, but the woman is the neck, and she can turn the head any way she wants.” At this point, I nudged my husband so hard, the glass of wine toppled out of his hand and graced our couch with one more layer of miscellanea.
Anyway.
Toula begins to transform. She works on her strengths, changes her mental wardrobe of thoughts and begins to wear wee bits of make-up. And her family begins to change as well. In a completely dysfunctional yet believable way.
Through all of this dysfunction, it becomes easy for Toula to see the light, not just in her own path but also for the larger good of saving the family restaurant.
A friend and former journalist Gargi Banerjee wrote about this in her own notes on the imposter syndrome. She wrote, “When we think about the imposter syndrome, it is like being the neck — feeling the weight of turning the head but often questioning if we have the strength or right to do so. The imposter syndrome thrives in the shadows, nurtured by isolation and self-doubt. In order to dismantle this belief, we must create safe spaces where individuals can connect on an authentic note and share their experiences.”
Not so long after, I was invited to speak at an HR and CSR event for Marsh McLennan for their offices in London, Manchester, Dubai, Johannesburg, Cape Town, Mumbai, Bangalore, Chennai and Pune. Amsterdam would have liked to join in, but there was an outdoor week-long music event that was described as “chaos, experimentation and unfiltered energy.”
However.
I had just watched the film and couldn’t help but draw parallels between the topic at the event and this wine-spilling, couch-huddling film that was loved by so many. The event was about taking a deep dive into the cultural aspects of the Imposter Syndrome and the impact of learned helplessness that passes through generations.
When their team and I met for the pre-event discussions, we briefly spoke of our own experiences with this invisible poltergeist of a syndrome. All of us have had a Toula within us. As in the film, one person’s imposter syndrome can set off a domino effect on the others and everyone finds themselves dealing with one or other shade of the same.
At the end of the film, Toula is found cajoling her own daughter into embracing her Greek lineage. The negotiations continue. Do our convictions bring children toward us or send them off and away, on adventures of their own?
When our own little private screening of the film ended, my husband and I found ourselves completely buried under the dogs. The pack had closed ranks for the moment and there was little space left for anything but uncompromised peace.
