Last week, I worked my first ever festival. It was chaotic, loud, sweaty, and terrifying. I should’ve been over the moon, and in so many ways, I was! But also? I found myself very in my head. This was the kind of milestone I’d been dreaming about since I started in the industry. I spent
years learning in college, shadowing, staying late on gigs, and saying yes to every opportunity, big or small, that would help me grow. And when that festival call came in, I was proud. I knew I had worked hard for it!
years learning in college, shadowing, staying late on gigs, and saying yes to every opportunity, big or small, that would help me grow. And when that festival call came in, I was proud. I knew I had worked hard for it!
I walked onto the festival grounds with my backpack, overly heavy pelican, and the biggest case of imposter syndrome I’ve ever experienced. I was surrounded by highly experienced, mostly older male techs who seemed to move effortlessly through the day, clearly having done many of
these shows before. I felt young, different, and a bit like I didn’t belong. ***it’s important to acknowledge that this was not true, nobody was staring at me thinking “What is she doing here?”, it was just all so new!
That’s the tricky thing about imposter syndrome: it has a way of showing up right when you should be celebrating your success. It makes you feel that you’re not really qualified, even when all evidence says otherwise. And for women, especially in technical fields like live production, these feelings can be magnified. You might walk into a room and feel like you’re constantly having to prove you know your gear, your process, your craft – and most of the time to people who never had to prove the same things themselves.
But here’s what I’ve come to realize: You don’t need to justify being in the room when you’ve worked to earn your place there. I’ve put in the hours, I’ve built my skill set. And this summer, I helped make live shows happen (real ones, with big artists, big crowds, and very high stakes! Like how cool is that!). I have problem solved under pressure, supported my team, and did the job I was hired to do. Ive made HUGE, awful, humiliating mistakes that will haunt me til I retire, but each one has taught me a huge lesson. Yet, there are still moments I feel underestimated or overlooked.
There are times when older colleagues question me more than they need to or hint that they don’t like seeing someone so “green” coming up through the ranks. But here’s what I want to say to anyone feeling that same discomfort: don’t shrink yourself to make others comfortable. Your ambition, your work ethic, and your presence are not a threat, they’re an asset!
If you’re just starting out and dealing with imposter syndrome, know this: you are not alone! Most of us feel it at some point. It’s not a sign of weakness, it’s often a sign that you’re stepping into something meaningful. You’ve earned this! Your opportunity didn’t come out of nowhere. It
came from your effort, your learning, your consistency. Keep asking questions and keep taking up space. Keep trusting that your work speaks for itself, even when others don’t say it out loud. I’ve personally run into stagehands who view my drive as “cocky”. There is a giant difference in
knowing your worth and being egotistical. Having trust in your abilities is not arrogant, It’s knowing you’re prepared. It’s a great thing to know what you know! It’s an even better thing to know what you don’t know, and not being afraid to ask or learn. There’s a big difference between
having an ego and respecting your own ability.
This summer’s busy season has already taught me more than just how to manage working under pressure. Its taught me how to believe in myself when that belief is tested. It reminds me that confidence isn’t always loud, it’s okay for confidence to be quiet and steady, growing one gig at a time!
Finally, sometimes, I have to remind myself that a lot of these feelings (feeling unwelcome, feeling like I have to prove myself twice as hard) aren’t always based on reality. Imposter syndrome can convince you that everyone’s watching, judging, or doubting you. But more often
than not, the loudest critic is your own inner voice. I’ve also learned that not everyone on the crew is out to challenge you. Most people genuinely want to see you grow. I’m very lucky to work with a handful of lovely, talented, skilled, and seasoned techs who treat me with respect, offer guidance without ego, and see me as a peer in the making, not a threat. Finding those people, the ones who build you up instead of break you down, is a game changer!
than not, the loudest critic is your own inner voice. I’ve also learned that not everyone on the crew is out to challenge you. Most people genuinely want to see you grow. I’m very lucky to work with a handful of lovely, talented, skilled, and seasoned techs who treat me with respect, offer guidance without ego, and see me as a peer in the making, not a threat. Finding those people, the ones who build you up instead of break you down, is a game changer!
To every underrepresented voice in this field: you have every right to be here. Pride just always gives way to something else: doubt. Keep showing up, keep learning, and keep being proud of what you bring to the table, because you didn’t just get lucky, you got here through hard work!