I've Never Been a Natural: How I Learned To Push Back Against Impostor Syndrome

From the outside, it might look like I've built a full life in Philadelphia. And in many ways, I have. I've made close friends, I go out and explore, I've learned the rhythm of the city, and I've even road-tripped to other states. I know how to navigate SEPTA, find the best study cafés, and balance my time between work, classes, and fun. I've landed co-ops at big tech companies like SIG, PwC, and Franklin Templeton. Piece by piece, I've built a life here that I'm proud of.

But inside, it hasn't always felt like that. Sometimes I feel exactly like what Taylor Swift said in her song "Mirrorball": "I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try."

Even before Philadelphia, independence shaped me. I moved across the world at 18, figuring things out on my own. I learned how to live without a safety net — funding my education, saving every dollar, and managing life in a new place. I've traveled internationally with my own money, visiting countries I once only dreamed of, and learned to navigate airports, cultures, and cities by myself. From Oman to Pennsylvania, I've been everywhere and nowhere all at once, never fully belonging in one place, but adapting to each.

But I've started to realize the truth: being a chameleon isn't deception; it's adaptability. It's what's helped me thrive in classrooms, succeed in co-ops, and connect with people across cultures.

That's where the impostor feelings creep in most. Even though I grew up in Oman, I was too Bengali. In Bangladesh, I was too foreign. And in Philadelphia, even after making friends and building memories, I still sometimes feel like I'm just passing through. It can feel like you're always visiting, never arriving. People see confidence, but what I've felt is performance.

So, when someone asked me how I landed my co-op, I'd shrug and say, "Oh, I just got lucky." When they asked about Drexel, I'd laugh, "They're just generous. That's the only reason I'm here." I'd call myself "lazy" or talk about skipping class, even when it was just one lecture or one off week. I minimized everything, as if my accomplishments weren't really mine.

For a long time, I thought this made me fake, like a chameleon just reflecting what people wanted to see. But I've started to realize the truth: being a chameleon isn't deception; it's adaptability. It's what's helped me thrive in classrooms, succeed in co-ops, and connect with people across cultures. The humor I thought was "borrowed" was actually mine — a way to survive new environments and make people feel comfortable. The opportunities I thought were "luck" came from hard work — late nights studying, handling endless paperwork, budgeting carefully, and pushing through fear to keep showing up.

Here's what I've learned about pushing back against impostor syndrome and what might help if you've ever felt the same:

• Notice when you minimize. The next time you brush off success as "luck," pause. Think of the real work, risks, and choices that only you made. That wasn't chance; that was effort.
• Reframe adaptation. Blending in isn't faking. It's a skill. In group projects, co-ops, and friendships, adaptability has been one of my strongest assets.
• Remember you're not alone. Many international and cross-cultural students live in that in-between space — belonging everywhere and nowhere. Some call it impostor syndrome of belonging. Knowing you're not the only one helps lighten the load.
• Find your root in yourself. If no single place feels like home, let yourself be the root. You can create belonging wherever you go.

Impostor syndrome doesn't vanish overnight. I still catch myself making jokes that downplay my accomplishments or feeling like I haven't done enough. But I've learned this: you don't need to be a "natural." You don't need everything to look effortless. Belonging isn't about luck or perfection; it's about showing up, trying, and trying again.

If you're a prospective student reading this, wondering if you'll ever belong at Drexel, here's what I want you to know: you don't have to shrink yourself or brush off what you've already done. It's not luck. It's not just generosity. It's you. And if I can build a life here, even while feeling like I belonged nowhere, you can too.