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“Presence is the struggle.”
Anonymous

Feminism has evolved together with race, social class, and generational change. In aspiring to make all people genuinely equal in terms of rights and opportunities, it has transformed society and permeated into the relationships of today’s youth, setting them markedly apart from those of our parents and grandparents—shaped by a much more patriarchal culture.

One of the phenomena that feminist culture has enabled us to recognise is the so-called “impostor syndrome.” It is a combination of feelings many women experience in new situations that demand more responsibility or—above all—greater power.

When searching online for “female impostor syndrome,” one can find numerous links to fashion publications or so-called “women’s magazines,” describing it essentially as a matter of self-esteem. Interestingly, due to some scientifically unexplainable cosmic coincidence, countless women around the world see themselves as unprepared to perform tasks and hold positions traditionally assigned to men. Of course, if this is the case, it must be because they do not love themselves enough. Unsurprisingly, these articles on “impostor syndrome” are often complemented by a stream of self-esteem quizzes, self-improvement advice, and even specific ads for targeted therapies to treat it. However, this phenomenon does show up as a scientifically recognised syndrome when the search term is just “impostor syndrome” more broadly. This is telling, considering that the authors who coined it—Drs. Pauline Rose Clance and Suzanna Imes—did so in a 1978 article focused on the experiences of over 150 women in positions involving significant success and professional achievement who secretly believed they did not deserve them. Privately, these women felt that their achievements were not the result of their merits but rather a stroke of luck—one that could vanish at any moment.

Photo_ Joelle Lavoie

Various studies have continued to shed light on the gender bias underlying this condition, which, moreover, remains unrecognised in the latest edition of the DSM [2].[2] Diganostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), the taxonomic and diagnostic tool published by the American Psychiatric Association (APA). Prominent testimonies such as those of former U.S. First Lady Michelle Obama or actress Emma Watson [3][3] Why Emma Watson Sometimes Feels Like an ‘Imposter’ in Hollywood, Julie Miller, 3 de agosto de 2015. Vanity Fair. Available here: https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2015/08/emma-watson-imposter—who have publicly admitted to experiencing stress and anxiety from feeling like a fraud [4][4] Two-thirds of women experience imposter syndrome, Rachel Sharp, 31 de julio de 2018. HR Magazine. Available here: https://www.hrmagazine.co.uk/content/news/two-thirds-of-women-experience-imposter-syndrome—illustrate how widespread the phenomenon is among women of all kinds. According to journalist Yomi Adegoke, over 66% of women report suffering from it as a result of intersecting, superlative and yet incompatible expectations imposed on us by both society and ourselves—and the subsequent crushing sense of falling short on all fronts. As Adegoke notes, “impostor syndrome” is not so much about an alleged inability to succeed or manage one’s self-esteem but rather a response to a world that simply does not believe in women [5].[5] Impostor syndrome is a response to a world that doesn’t believe in women. Yomi Adegoke, 17 de julio de 2019. The Guardian. Available here: https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2019/jul/17/impostor-syndrome-is-a-response-to-a-world-that-doesnt-believe-in-women

I was fortunate not to be the first nor the only young woman to hold a seat in the Spanish Parliament—and with each new legislature, the average age of MPs continues to decrease. There is an increasing number of elected women and a broader diversity of profiles and backgrounds representing constituents. However, the paths leading those who are not white, heterosexual men to such positions of power are not any less hard to navigate. In fact, they are often convoluted and violent, capable of inflicting real trauma and, of course, the aforementioned impostor syndrome.

During my first months on the job—and unlike most of my fellow MPs—I had to continuously show my credentials to access Congress. After detaining me for quite some time, one security officer in charge of parliamentary access even told me that this was because I “certainly didn’t look like an MP.” Entrance guards and legislators from other parties seemed hellbent on daily reminding me that in order to “look like an MP,” I had to be thin, attractive, and wear heels. I was expected to become a smiling woman in a blazer who moderately disagreed with her colleagues. The institution as a whole seemed to send the message that a young woman attaining the same power in Spain as an older man was a fraud-like situation that the Electoral Commission would have to rectify sooner or later.

The fact that women—especially younger ones—so widely experience this feeling of illegitimacy in exercising power or holding public office is not due to “low self-esteem” but to patriarchy, plain and simple. Patriarchal society does not expect women to take on certain roles; in many cases, it does not even expect them to have careers or receive recognition. And while society may not expect men to dislike success, the acceptance of men adopting “women’s roles” is far more common than the acceptance of women doing “men’s things.”

The shift in parenting and fatherhood, for example, is evident among younger generations. Yet, as Azpiazu Carballo explains, “new fatherhoods” still collide with old stereotypes—that is, with tasks and attitudes traditionally not expected of or assumed by men:

“In recent years, heterosexual men appear to be developing a different relationship with fatherhood compared to their predecessors. In the past, fathers were men who would come and go, with whom one would have a distant relationship, lacking emotions like empathy or affection. (…) Today, however, men seem to be approaching fatherhood differently: emotional closeness, a desire to spend time with their children. (…) Yet this image of change still clashes with the data. (…) Very few men, when faced with parenting responsibilities, consider pausing their professional careers.” [6][6] Azpiazu Carballo, Jokin (2024), Masculinidades y feminismo [Masculinities and Feminism] Pamplona: Txalaparta, p.26.

Two centuries of feminist thought have worked to map out this unequal and unjust division of labor, showing how these new feminist frontiers exert pressure on those who find themselves at their margins.

Sexist Neoliberalism and Unpaid Labor

If anyone ever identified the key dynamics underlying the gendered history of relations between men and women, that is feminist theorist and historian Silvia Federici. In her work The Patriarchy of the Wage [7],[7] Federici, Silvia (2018) El patriarcado del salario. Críticas feministas al marxismo [The Patriarchy of the Wage: Notes on Marx, Gender and Feminism]. Madrid: Traficantes de Sueños. this Italian thinker analyses the intersections and tensions between Marxism and Feminism—that is, the Marxist elements she incorporates into feminism and vice versa—essential tools for understanding gender.

According to Federici, Marxism equips feminism with its concept of history: a way of understanding society as a story of perpetual, oppositional divisions—class, gender, race, age, etc. Narrating history or analysing society by homogenising its protagonists simply reproduces the perspective of those who hold the most power—in this case, men—since, as we will see later, it is they who also write historical narratives.

The second Marxist concept Federici enshrines for the feminist struggle is that of a human nature product of social relations—not as something fixed or eternal. She illustrates this with the example of the derogatory discourse aimed at women who cease to fulfill their roles as caregivers—roles historically framed as “naturally feminine.” Such women are often labeled “freeloaders” or “selfish,” reflecting the punitive social expectations imposed on those who resist these roles.

Lastly, the author refers to the Marxist take on labor as the primary source of wealth production—a concept utterly blind to the reality of women. One of the central pillars of Federici’s critique of capitalism lies in the idea that the capitalist system sentences women to be “the proletariat of the proletariat.” The notion is rather simple: for society to function, women take on a large share of the labor that must be carried out. Specifically, a type of labor that does not facilitate the accumulation of wealth but rather enables others—men—to accumulate it. The work taken on by women is not productive but reproductive: domestic work and the care for those in need. An invisible labor that underpins the entire economic system designed to generate deep inequalities.

Making this labor visible, turning it into paid employment, and distributing it equitably between men and women is the ultimate task advocated by feminism. One of its main achievements has been to unequivocally highlight that the decisive reason why gender stereotypes are replicated generation after generation is, above all, economic. The neoliberal model in which we are embedded endures, among other reasons, because it ensures women continue to assume forms of labor that neither States nor Businesses contemplate paying for—labor that enables others, not women, to become wealthy. If such labor were ever duly remunerated, the system would cease to be as profitable. This is precisely what makes neoliberalism not just an economic system but a cultural machine and a propaganda device that perpetuates sexism.

A Deafening Absence

Cultural production perpetuates not only gender roles and stereotypes but the long-standing narrative on the nature of men and women and the ways we are conditioned to interact with one another. Since the dawn of human thought, women have always been regarded as inferior, subordinate to men, even created from fragments of their bodies. From Aristotle to Kant, passing through Thomas Aquinas, Descartes, and Hume, we can trace how the entire compounded body of Western human thought over the passage centuries is not only deeply sexist but also profoundly masculine—that is, produced by male writers, thinkers, and philosophers, not by female ones. In the five years I spent majoring in Philosophy at the University of Pontevedra, not a single one of my professors—male or female—included a detailed chapter of a female philosopher in their course syllabi. Not a single one.

This absence of women is not limited to the realm of culture, literature, or the humanities. The same is true when reviewing the composition of the General Council of the Judiciary, the Royal Spanish Academy, the Council of Ministers, the boards of major companies, labor committees, political and union leadership, and the lists of the world’s wealthiest, most influential or powerful individuals. And this is but a performative kind of absence—one that actively shapes many of the social structures that govern our lives across all spheres.

Another clear example of this absence is medical science in itself, which has been built around the characteristics of the male body [8][8] Pérez Sedeño, Eulalia y García Dauder, Silvia (2017). Las “mentiras” científicas sobre las mujeres [Scientific “lies” about women] Madrid: Catarata.. In their book The Scientific Lies About Women, Eulalia Pérez Sedeño and Silvia García Dauder explore, among others, how the widely held belief that experiencing pain can point to heart trouble is based on a scientifically proven fact, extensively documented through dozens of clinical cases. These patients, however, were exclusively men. Indeed, men tend to exhibit specific symptoms prior to a heart attack, such as chest pain radiating to the left arm, but women do not. It has taken many years and mounting feminist critique—by women scientists from several disciplines—to expose that, as the symptoms experienced solely by men are treated as the standard, medicine may be more effective for men than for women in many other contexts.

Conclusion: Gender as a Philosophical Question

This overwhelming absence of women in history, philosophy, medicine, science, the judiciary, politics, and, more broadly, in every domain of power and public visibility, is a structural resistance that younger generations of women continue to face—despite all the progress made. The so-called “impostor syndrome” is but one of many expressions of a patriarchal social structure, one that constantly calls into question women’s legitimacy to hold spaces traditionally dominated by men.

Factors such as age, gender, and physical appearance shape the perception of authority and competence, rooted in social expectations and stereotypes that perpetuate inequalities. The tensions young women will face in leadership contexts are, in this sense, a reminder that gender is very much power—and that, like any political issue, it casts a veil of conflict over society as a whole.

If there is something we can ultimately thank feminism for, it is for teaching us to use gender as a philosophical and political question even in our daily lives. Access to that tool is, most likely, one of the main factors telling younger women apart from those of older generations.

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