Achievement gives us confidence, purpose and a sense of accomplishment, yet it can also become part of our identity. For many women who pursue advanced degrees, the line between what we have accomplished and who we believe we are might become difficult to see.
We learn to meet standards, defend our thinking, produce evidence, withstand scrutiny, demonstrate competence, anticipate questions before they are asked and make sure our work can survive examination. These are valuable skills and I would not trade them.
As a researcher and educator, I value evidence deeply. I love supportive evidence since it gives our ideas something stronger than assumption or personal opinion. Evidence helps us test what we think we know and remain open to what we may have missed.
But there is an interesting tension that can develop after years of achievement.
What happens when demonstrating our competence becomes so familiar that we begin to feel as though we must continually prove that we deserve to be in the room?
When the degree becomes part of the identity
A terminal degree represents years of persistence, intellectual work and discipline. It is an accomplishment worth recognizing. However, a degree can become complicated when we begin to use it as evidence of our worth rather than as evidence of something we accomplished. They are not the same thing.
A credential demonstrates completion of a rigorous program, but it does not determine how valuable we are. A publication demonstrates that we contributed to a body of knowledge, but it does not determine whether our ideas deserve consideration now. A successful project demonstrates what we accomplished, but it does not establish our worth as human beings.
This distinction is important since achievement can turn into a moving target. When we accomplish one thing, there is another benchmark, credential, publication, position or goal to achieve.
If our sense of worth depends on continually reaching the next marker, there may never be a point at which we feel finished proving ourselves.
From proving to creating
Perhaps the question is not whether we should stop achieving, but whether we can eventually move from proving ourselves to others to creating for both ourselves and others. There is a different kind of confidence that emerges when we no longer need every decision to serve as proof of our capability.
We can make a contribution when we have something meaningful to contribute, not because we need the contribution to establish our credentials. We can ask a question without worrying someone will interpret the question as evidence we do not know enough. We can change our minds when new evidence emerges without experiencing that change as failure. We can try something new without requiring ourselves to be completely prepared before beginning.
Most importantly, we can continue learning without feeling that not knowing something diminishes what we already know. This is not a rejection of achievement, though it is freedom from needing to achieve to constantly validate ourselves.
Confidence is not the absence of evidence
There is another distinction I believe is worth making. Trusting ourselves does not mean abandoning evidence, expertise or critical thinking. In fact, I would argue genuine intellectual confidence makes room for all three.
We can trust our experience while still asking questions, listen to our instincts while still examining the evidence and have strong convictions while remaining willing to revise them. We can be confident enough to say, “I know this,” and equally confident enough to say, “I do not know about ‘xyz’ yet.”
That last statement may be one of the clearest signs of intellectual maturity.
After years of being evaluated, it is tempting to believe that confidence means having the answer. I think confidence also means being comfortable with the process of finding the answer. This is what I try to instill in my adult students.
The freedom to create
There comes a point when what we have learned should become more than a record of what we have accomplished. It should become something we use. We can create, write, teach, research and solve problems. We can also ask better questions, contribute ideas that may not yet be fully formed and add value without turning every contribution into a performance review of our own worth.
For me, this is where intellectual freedom thrives. It’s not freedom from rigor, evidence or accountability. It is the freedom to use everything we have learned without constantly asking whether we have done enough to prove that we belong.
Achievement tells us what we have accomplished, but it does not have to tell us who we are. Perhaps the next stage is not necessarily becoming more accomplished — not that there is anything wrong with more accomplishments — but rather being more willing to create from everything we have already learned. We can have that choice of creating from what we have learned or choosing to pursue other accomplishments, but we do not have to seek accomplishments solely to solidify our identity.
Maybe that is the deeper purpose of achievement: Not to spend the rest of our lives proving that we are capable, but to become secure enough in what we have learned that we can use it to create something meaningful.
The degree, publication, promotion and accomplishments can remain part of our story without becoming the story itself. There is freedom in knowing what we have accomplished and in realizing that we no longer have to prove it.
Why not pursue accomplishments since they are our heart’s desire and aligned with what we want, without attaching them to our identity to prove we are capable? Why not also become secure enough in our training, experience and what we have learned to develop something important?
Self-trust and evidence can coexist. Perhaps intellectual freedom is having the ability to do both.
Featured image: Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash
Edited by James Sutton
