February is LGBTQ+ history month, and this year celebrates the 50th anniversary of the first pride march in the UK. For lots of people, the month is a space to look back, to celebrate achievements that pave the way to equality, and to build ambitions for the future of human rights. For many others, LGBT+ history month is also a personal celebration of pride and identity and is a reminder that we belong to a large, diverse and remarkable community.

I never had a sudden, or even a slow, realisation that I was bi. I was about 10 or 11 when I found out that most people only liked the opposite gender. And as I grew up, I found that there were a lot of straight people and a lot of gay people, but seemingly few of whatever I am. Nevertheless, at 16, I started coming out to my friends and family and most had an incredibly positive reaction – my little brother, especially, was very supportive (Oh hi, Jon). I started seeing my first girlfriend in college, and at that time I felt that I knew what I was about and was happy to be who I was.

Despite being quite self-assured though, I also felt a bit of a constant social imposter. I felt different to my straight friends and was vaguely aware, but not part of, the LGBTQ+ community: I was neither straight enough nor queer enough to belong. It doesn’t help that my spouse is a straight cis man – I ‘appear’ straight to those who don’t know me, so it can be difficult to feel included in LGBTQ+ spaces.

So, that’s one layer of disquiet in my large anxiety-onion. Another layer is connected to my choice of career. I am the Learning Adviser for the College of Science and Engineering at the University. Students and staff alike will very probably recognise this next pattern of thinking: academic imposter syndrome. Despite my bachelor’s degree, master’s degree, PhD, multiple publications, and ten years of teaching experience, I sometimes question my academic competence. I have been known to feel like a bit of a sham next to some of the astonishingly intelligent subject lecturers that I often work with, despite the fact that I know I’m good at my job.

The problem with imposter syndrome is that it makes you feel like a fraud, which is obviously not terribly healthy. The advantage of navigating multiple forms of imposter syndrome is that I am really quite good at stamping on the little voice that says that I don’t belong. With that in mind, here’s my guide to stamping on your own version of that voice:

• Recognise that imposter syndrome is a pattern of thinking. It’s a mindset that can become an unhealthy cycle. Academic Twitter and many LGBT+ blogs will tell you that almost every higher education student and every bisexual person has experienced feelings of imposter syndrome. That means that you’re not alone, and just because you have these negative thoughts, doesn’t make them true.

• Imposter syndrome is often rooted in societal constructs that should be challenged. Academics have to work masses of unpaid overtime to be successful? Nope. Bisexuality is a phase? Also nope. Challenging these stereotypes when they come up in conversation (if you feel you are able) reinforces the reality for both you and the people you talk to.

• Stop comparing yourself. There are no units of measurement for how straight or queer you are and there is no one best academic/career path. Everyone is at different stages of personal and professional progress, and everyone has had a very unique experience in getting to their current stage. Besides, it doesn’t matter how queer or qualified/experienced anyone else is because it’s not a competition.

• Don’t give any credibility to the feelings of imposter syndrome. Mistakes in your coursework don’t mean you’re not competent and there’s no such thing as not being queer enough. Those things are just objectively not true.

• Build yourself up and build your own identity. I have learned to celebrate my queerness and my academic achievements in my own way. Mostly through my choice of home décor that features a display of degree certificates in my office, and a rainbow in every room.

Repeat after me: I am here! I am queer and/or intelligent (delete as appropriate)!

Shut up, little imposter voice!