Imposter Syndrome
I have a few drums I beat in my cave of honey and hum. I beat the drum for natural beekeeping and bee sovereignty. I beat the drum for the womb-beat of the Earth. I beat the drum for the rise and integration of the feminine with all peoples, industries, and businesses. I beat the drum of dismantling the Patriarchy (that one is low and reverberating AF). And I beat the drum of calling for more women’s voices in beekeeping. I’m polyrhythmic.⠀⠀
Which is why I found it so fascinating when, whilst sounding the horns and ringing the bells for more women’s voices in the conversation on beekeeping, I blanched when asked to be one of them, on a stage. ⠀⠀
I have a few drums I beat in my cave of honey and hum. I beat the drum for natural beekeeping and bee sovereignty. I beat the drum for the womb-beat of the Earth. I beat the drum for the rise and integration of the feminine with all peoples, industries, and businesses. I beat the drum of dismantling the Patriarchy (that one is low and reverberating AF). And I beat the drum of calling for more women’s voices in beekeeping. I’m polyrhythmic.⠀⠀
Which is why I found it so fascinating when, whilst sounding the horns and ringing the bells for more women’s voices in the conversation on beekeeping, I blanched when asked to be one of them, on a stage. ⠀⠀
Recently I was asked to be a speaker at the Natural Beekeeping Conference. A place filled to the brim with people I admire. I said yes immediately. Did a jig. Thanked the goddesses and then freaked the eff out about “my topic”. Suddenly, I felt like an imposter. I began the good ol’ comparison game. I counted my years of “experience” on my fingers and asked “Do I measure up?” I counted my hives and asked “do I have enough?” I am not a scientist. I am not in charge of 100 hives. I am not published. ⠀⠀
I immediately questioned the importance of my voice in the narrative of beekeeping. Here’s the catch, the wonderful folks at the conference aren’t asking me to discuss mite-resistant local stock or how urban beekeeping is making a difference, they are simply asking me to speak to what I already know. Why do we do this to ourselves? Women in particular learn from such an early age that we should differ to the “expert” the room. That we aren’t smart enough, strong enough, pretty enough, funny enough, or enough. The bees don’t care if you’re enough. Just show up. Show up for what you love. Be that voice, no matter how loud, quiet, weird, contrary, or charismatic. A bee never has to question her place in her hive. Why do we? ⠀
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So here's a glass to all the time you've felt like a weirdo, or not enough, or an imposter, or not qualified, but you showed up anyway, because your voice is part of changing the story of our times.