Raise your hand if you’ve ever thought, “I don’t belong here.” Now, raise your other hand if you’ve still been waiting for someone to bust into the room and shout, “Who let you in?” If both hands are up, congrats—you’ve officially experienced the joyride that is impostor syndrome, also known as that nagging voice inside your head that whispers (or yells) things like “you’re not ready,” “you’re not good enough,” and “that one time you microwaved your takeout in the plastic container? Yeah, you’re still paying karmic dues for that.”

But what if I told you that little voice isn’t the all-knowing narrator of your life? What if it’s, instead, a really bad DJ spinning outdated tracks—think of it as the DJ Khaled of self-doubt, hollering “ANOTHER ONE” every time you catch a win? Let me be the first to say that you don’t just belong—you’ve earned your place. And once you realize that, moving from fraud vibes to big boss energy becomes not only possible, but inevitable.

The Early Days: Faking It Like a Telenovela Star, with None of the Drama

Let me rewind to my first big story as a reporter. There I was, notebook in hand, standing at a community event where everyone seemed to know everyone… except me. I was supposed to interview local leaders about cultural festivals, but all I could think was, “Why am I here? These people have actual stories; I’m just a housera (aka homebody) who spends more time reading fiction than living it.”

Spoiler: the interview didn’t go so well. I fumbled through my questions, nodded like someone asked me if I wanted extra picante sauce, and left feeling like I’d just done the journalistic version of forgetting everyone’s name at a family reunion.

But here’s the thing about those awkward first steps: they’re supposed to feel like that. When babies first learn to walk, they’re not sprinting marathons. They’re toppling into furniture, cracking up everyone in the room, and trying again. And while no one clapped like I’d cured world hunger at that time, I clapped for myself later—for showing up, for trying, and for bothering to ask questions when it felt safer to stay silent.

Step One: Embrace the Cringe (You're Supposed to Be Bad at It)

Let’s get honest—you’re going to mess up. Whether it’s a new role at work, a relationship, or figuring out how to perfectly balance your café con leche ratio, you’re going to stumble. And that’s okay. No one walks into expertise; it’s a relentless crawl.

The key here is giving yourself permission to suck for a while. Or, as my abuela used to remind me when I’d stress out in college, “Las cosas buenas toman tiempo.” (Translation: Good things take time.) If you're too busy rehearsing, “But what if I fail?” in your head, you’re going to miss all the gold that comes with learning along the way. Failing is data. Failing is growth. Failing is absolute peak comedy once you get far enough away from it.

Step Two: Find Your Ritmo (and Yes, It Can Be as Slow as Reggaetón’s Beat)

Impostor syndrome loves to tell you that you have to do things a certain way. Speak like her, work like him, love like them… basically anyone but yourself. If it were up to me, I’d personally throw that narrative in the compost with yesterday’s plátano peels.

I’ll admit, this was a lesson I learned repeatedly (read: stubbornly). When I studied abroad in Madrid, I spent my first few weeks trying to mimic everyone around me—their accents, their habits, their casual inability to grab coffee without looking effortlessly chic. You know what happened? My “imitation game” made me stick out even more. Turns out, people are drawn to authenticity, not your audition as an extra in “Spanish Vogue.”

Once I leaned into being a Cuban-Mexican chica from Houston—fluent in Spanglish, a little loud when I’m excited, and sincere as hell—I made real connections. That lesson carried over to my writing career. Instead of pretending to be some all-knowing journalist robot, I started writing stories rooted in my background and experiences. Know what happened? They resonated more because they were mine.

The lesson? The quickest way to feel like an “expert” isn’t to know it all; it’s to trust yourself enough to admit when you don’t—and when you do.

Step Three: Rewrite the Soundtrack in Your Head

If you’re like me, impostor syndrome shows up as an inner heckler. Sometimes it’s loud (think front-row heckler at an amateur comedy night), and sometimes it’s more subtle, like a bad Wi-Fi connection that keeps dropping your confidence every five minutes. Either way, you’re gonna have to change the station.

Here’s an exercise I use (and no, it doesn’t involve sage, although that can’t hurt): Grab a notebook, and write down your biggest moments when you felt proud in anything. It could be nailing a killer presentation at work, figuring out someone’s Starbucks order without using Google, or maintaining a thriving basil plant from Trader Joe’s. Your wins matter, big or small. Rereading them when doubt creeps in will remind you you’re not starting from zero.

Also, consider upgrading your circle. Surrounding yourself with people who hype you up might sound cliché, but it works—don’t fight science. I’m talking about that friend who sends you a million emojis whenever you tell them something exciting, or the mentor who makes you see possibilities, not your limits. Their voices can drown out the inner critic when yours is taking a day off.

Step Four: Teach What You Know (Even Before You Feel Ready)

One game-changing moment for me? Mentoring a high school student at a writing workshop. Prior to that, I didn’t think of myself as “legit.” Sure, I’d freelanced, published a few personal essays, and collected rejections like Pokémon cards, but I didn’t feel like I’d earned the title of “writer.” Then this student asked me for advice on her short story, and as I showed her ways to tighten her descriptions, I realized: OH. I do know stuff. Cool.

There’s power in teaching others what you’ve learned. It not only makes you realize how much you’ve picked up along the way, it reminds you that knowledge grows in the sharing. You don’t have to wait for some magical certificate to bless you with the title of “expert.” You just have to be willing to give back.

Stepping Into That Main Character Energy (Because You Can)

At the end of the day, impostor syndrome doesn’t go away by arguing with it or trying to prove it wrong. Seriously, it’s like arguing with someone on Twitter—it’s endless, exhausting, and ultimately pointless. What does help is simply moving forward anyway.

So wear that metaphorical crown, step out of the murkiness of self-doubt, and take your place at the proverbial table (or cubicle, or coffee date). You’ve earned it. And when in doubt, here’s a gentle cheat code that abuela was right about all along: Either they’ll love you for who you are, or they weren’t your people in the first place.

You, my friend, belong. And that’s not impostor syndrome—that’s facts.