The Masks Always Slip (Good Thing You Don’t Need to Wear One.)
Over the weekend, while recovering from the Norovirus (10/10 do not recommend), I found myself watching two wildly different Netflix productions that somehow spoke the same uncomfortable truth.
One was Apple Cider Vinegar—like its namesake, a bracing look at the wellness industry that may be hard to swallow for some. Compelling enough that I watched the whole series in one sitting (okay, in one laying). The other was Kinda Pregnant with Amy Schumer—sporting a Rotten Tomatoes rating of 19% that some might say is generous… and yet? It was entirely and ridiculously enjoyable, and exactly what my beleaguered brain and body could handle.
The common thread? Fraudulence.
Both played with the idea of someone pretending—convincingly, at first—until, inevitably, the mask slipped. And watching that unravel is deeply uncomfortable. Because we know what’s coming.
Let’s be clear: We are (I trust) not out here faking brain cancer in some Munchausen-fueled scam or donning stolen rubber baby bumps to fake pregnancy.
And yet… that moment. That fear of exposure. That bone-deep "what if they find out?" feeling?
That’s viscerally familiar.
Fraud Watching: Our Favourite Pastime
The downfall of a fraudster has become appointment viewing.
From The Dropout (Elizabeth Holmes’ Theranos scandal) to Inventing Anna (Anna Delvey’s con artistry in designer clothes and a truly baffling accent), to Fyre: The Greatest Party That Never Happened (Billy McFarland’s Instagram-fueled festival scam that left influencers stranded with cheese sandwiches)—we can’t look away as these so-called visionaries get exposed for the frauds they always were.
Our own schadenfreude kicks in as we watch them delude, deceive, and ultimately destroy themselves.
Because we’re not them.
And yet?
We still fear being “found out,” in spite of what the evidence shows.
The Imposter Complex Has You Bracing for a Reckoning That’s Never Coming
You’re not faking. You’re not playing pretend. You’re not conning anyone.
But the Imposter Complex would have you believe otherwise. It’s waiting for the moment you slip up, certain that someone—anyone—will finally expose you for the fraud you secretly suspect you are.
And yet.
Check the receipts.
You earned the gig.
You asked for the work.
You put in the reps.
You ran your paces.
You showed up. Again. And again.
That’s not luck. That’s not deception. That’s yours.
Alain de Botton on Why We Fear Being Found Out
In his classic book, Status Anxiety, Alain de Botton argues that much of our fear isn’t about failure itself—it’s about how others will perceive that failure. The shame, the judgment, the imagined humiliation.
Which is why we hesitate.
Not because we aren’t capable. But because we assume there’s an invisible jury, always watching, always waiting to pass judgment.
But what if that audience isn’t as invested in our downfall as we think?
Like I said: unless you faked cancer, jammed a roasted turkey up your dress, or spent years speaking in a faux-European accent, your fear of being exposed is wildly disproportionate to reality.
From Imposter Complex to Trailblazer’s Complex
The fear of exposure might feel real, but what if it’s just… misplaced?
What if this isn’t proof that you don’t belong, but rather proof that you’re at the edge of something bigger?
In Think Again, Adam Grant highlights that true experts tend to doubt themselves, while the least competent are often the most confident. (See also: the Dunning-Kruger effect.)
That discomfort you feel? It’s not proof you don’t belong—it’s proof you care. Proof that this matters to you.
And that feeling pulling at you—the weight of stepping into something bigger? That’s not fraudulence.
That’s what I call the Trailblazer’s Complex—the discomfort of leading beyond the status quo.
It’s proof that you’re in the arena, doing the work, pushing the edges of what’s possible.
The frauds aren’t feeling this. They’re marching forward in full delusion, wearing crowns they never earned.
You? You put in the work. You know this matters. You feel the weight of it all because you actually give a damn.
That’s what trailblazing feels like.
Meanwhile, in the Real Hall of Mirrors…
This whole moment in history is peak Emperor’s New Clothes—full of leaders (and I use that term loosely) swaggering around, insisting their robes are majestic when it’s clear to anyone with eyes that they are wearing nothing but bravado.
And it works. Not because they’re competent, but because they’re loud.
Meanwhile, you—the one actually doing the work, holding the line, delivering the results—wonder if you belong.
Enough.
You’re Not Playing King. You Are an Authority.
You don’t need to fake it. You don’t need to act like you belong.
You already belong.
So now? Make it yours. Own it. Claim the space you have earned.
Because if you don’t, someone else will.
And let’s be honest: do we really need more emperors strutting around in imaginary robes while the real leaders hold themselves back?
Or is it time for the ones actually doing the work to take up the space they’ve earned?