Overcoming Imposter Syndrome
/How a national park in Korea helped one woman embrace her identity
Shannon Tyo at Bukhansan National Park (photo courtesy Shannon Tyo)
Season 6 | Episode 7
Many of us have experienced imposter syndrome at some point in our lives. Often it’s at work, where we doubt our own skills and accomplishments.
But what happens when you feel like a fraud simply for being yourself?
In this episode, we travel from New York State to a national park in Korea and share how one transracial adoptee made peace with her own identity.
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Welcome to Out There Podcast. Our stories are written for the ear, so for those able, we recommend listening while reading along. Transcripts may contain minor errors; please check the audio before quoting.
VOICEOVER: Hub and Spoke audio collective.
WILLOW BELDEN: A few weeks ago, I hiked up a 14er in Colorado. Fourteeners are mountains that are at least 14,000 feet tall. And it was gorgeous. Panoramic views of snow-capped peaks in every direction.
And so as I’m hiking, I’m looking at these peaks, and I’m trying to figure out which one is which. And I’m pretty sure I can pick out Mount Elbert, which is the tallest mountain in Colorado, and Mount Massive, which is number two. But I’m not 100 percent sure.
So at the summit, I pull out my phone and open up PeakVisor.
PeakVisor is our presenting sponsor this season. Their app helps you identify mountains when you’re out on adventures.
When you open the app, it determines where you are, and then it shows you a panorama of everything you’re looking at, with all the peaks labeled.
If you’d like to be a superhero of outdoor navigation, check out PeakVisor in the app store. You just might love it.
Hi, I’m Willow Belden, and you’re listening to Out There, the podcast that explores big questions through intimate stories outdoors.
Most of us have felt a sense of imposter syndrome at some point in our lives. Often it’s at work, where you feel like you don’t deserve your own accomplishments. Like you’re not as smart or talented as people think.
But it can happen in other parts of life too.
This story is about what happens when you feel like a fraud simply for being yourself.
We’ll travel from New York State to a national park in Korea and explore how one woman ultimately made peace with her own identity.
Katie Reuther has the story.
KATIE REUTHER: Growing up in western New York, Shannon Tyo felt like just another Italian American kid. In elementary school, she remembers being driven home by a friend’s parents.
SHANNON TYO: And I remember my friend’s mother asking what ethnicity I was, or something along the lines of that. And I remember responding, “Oh, I’m half Italian, and I’m half Irish, with a little bit of French Canadian.”
KATIE: Her friend’s mother smiled politely and left it at that.
SHANNON: And I obviously knew I was adopted from Korea, but I just didn’t have the wherewithal yet to, like, wrap my mind around the fact of what she was actually asking me.
KATIE: Shannon was born in Korea and adopted by a white American family when she was four months old. Everything she learned about Korean culture came from school projects and a summer camp for Korean adoptees. The camp introduced her to Korean language, food, and traditional dress. But she didn’t feel any sense of ownership over them. Korean culture wasn’t HER culture.
SHANNON: It felt like I was just an American person doing these things, these things from another country.
KATIE: In elementary school, her class did a project where each student was asked to share how their family celebrated the holidays. Her teacher suggested that she research Korean traditions instead of focusing on her family's Italian American ones.
SHANNON: And I remember sort of going, ‘Well that’s not fair. I have to, now I have to go and, like, make up a bunch of traditions that I don’t do, research a bunch of things that I don’t know about. I’m doing all this extra work, and I don’t know how to say any of these things. I don't know what any of this actually means. I feel like a fraud. But here’s my poster board about holidays in Korea, I think…’
KATIE: This was one of the first times Shannon remembers feeling like an imposter. But it wasn’t the first time she felt different than those around her.
SHANNON: All through my childhood, I think I was more focused, if anything, on the fact that I was not the same race as my adoptive parents and adoptive family.
KATIE: How did that make you feel, to be a different race than your adoptive parents?
SHANNON: I think for a really long time, I didn’t feel anything, and I also felt everything. I didn’t have the language, I didn’t have the understanding, to process what it felt like to be so different from all the people around me, and I didn't have any reference to even understand what I was missing or what it would feel like to be around a bunch of Koreans.
KATIE: I couldn’t have said it better myself. I was born in China and raised in America by white parents. So I know exactly what Shannon means. I felt intensely alienated growing up, but I didn’t have the words to express what that meant.
Imagine having no knowledge of who, what, or where you come from, and being dropped into a faraway country, where most people don’t look like you. Some of them decide to be your family. They take you in. They tell you that you’re one of them. And you start to believe it. But there’s a lingering sense of unease, because other people don’t recognize you as a family, and people who do look like you expect you to know their language, their culture.
So then, where do you belong? Who do you belong to? And what belongs to you?
When Shannon went off to college, things started to shift. For the first time, people were meeting and getting to know her apart from her white adoptive family.
SHANNON: And very suddenly, I was Asian, in a brand new way.
KATIE: But she didn’t feel Asian in the same way that a lot of her Asian classmates did, because she hadn’t grown up in an Asian household.
She saw up close how much her Asian American classmates were shaped by their families and cultural upbringings. They spoke their birth culture’s language, celebrated their culture’s holidays, ate their culture’s foods. They joined Asian American student groups without hesitation.
Noticing all of this, Shannon began to develop a new curiosity about her Koreanness. It started to matter to her. In retrospect, she now knows that it always mattered.
SHANNON: It was incredibly important. I just didn’t have the language or the reference point to be able to say, “Hey, this is important to me.” And I wish I did, because by the time it became important to me, I was so far behind.
KATIE: So far behind. As a young adult, Shannon knew very little about Korea. Despite that one class project, and the few summers she spent at Korean camp, she realized she knew virtually nothing about the language, the holidays, the food. Nothing of the etiquette or tradition, nothing of the way Korean people interact with each other.
She tried to learn it, tried to own it, but it’s hard to feel a sense of ownership over something you’ve only googled.
SHANNON: It’s the same thing as, I don’t know, like an Italian American person who googled facts about Korea. They have kind of the same amount of knowledge of it that I do.
KATIE: She felt especially bad about not knowing Korean. Many adoptees, myself included, feel a deep sense of shame for not inherently knowing the language of our birth country or for being unable to learn it quickly or easily.
Shannon wanted to get past that discomfort. So she signed up for an introductory Korean class. Going in, she felt self conscious. But her classmates were also adoptees.
SHANNON: It took a little bit of the stigma away, because we were all born in Korea, and we had no idea what we were doing. In another setting, if I was taking Korean class from a Korean person, I think my sense of shame would’ve been so high, I wouldn’t have participated.
KATIE: The comfort Shannon experienced in class extended outside of it, too.
SHANNON: The shared experience is so strong that you can skip over all the explanations and all the justifications of your feelings, for the most part, and just talk to each other in a way that just skips over like 48 hours of exposition, which is really liberating.
KATIE: As the years went on, Shannon made friends with more and more Korean Americans. And that helped ease her shame, but it didn’t eradicate her imposter syndrome. Outside of her social circle, people would still see her and assume she knew all about Korean culture. But of course she didn’t. They’d ask her questions she couldn’t answer. She felt an intense pressure to prove her Koreanness to those around her. And she often felt like she was falling short.
Growing up, Shannon didn’t have an overt desire to visit Korea. She had a sense that talking about Korea and wanting to go there would make her family sad. Focusing on her Koreanness would be a reminder of her difference, of the way their family wasn’t the same as others.
But now, in her early thirties, she finally gave herself permission to want to go there. She felt like going to Korea was the biggest step she could take to reclaim her Koreanness. She wanted to feel more connected to her cultural heritage, to feel a sense of belonging, to answer questions she had about herself.
But at the same time, she was afraid to get her hopes up.
SHANNON: I remember thinking to myself, ‘No matter what, for this Korea trip, have no expectations. If you think that this is gonna fix — quote unquote — everything in your life, or if you think you’re gonna go there and all your questions about yourself and your life are gonna be answered and you’re gonna be a new person, that will not happen.’
KATIE: With her expectations firmly in check, Shannon started looking into flights. When the airfare dropped low enough one night, she bought the tickets and started planning. Accommodations? Check. SIM card? Check. Translation apps? Check. The list goes on.
She also made a laminated card that explained — in Korean — that she was adopted from Korea and was traveling back for the first time. By this point, Shannon’s Korean was still limited to things like, “Hello,” “Thank you,” and “I don’t speak Korean.” And she wanted a way to connect with locals despite the language gap.
When Shannon finally boarded the plane to Seoul, every single detail mattered, from the airplane napkins to the flight attendants’ hair charms.
SHANNON: I haven’t had a wedding, but I would assume it’s something like that, where it’s like, this is such an important day, so every single thing is a blur and also the most important thing that’s ever happened. Or like the day that your child is born. It has that kind of heft and weight, where like something is about to happen and you will not be the same after it.
KATIE: Taking off from the U.S., Shannon experienced a wave of emotion. It felt like her whole life had been leading up to this flight.
SHANNON: I flew out alone 36 years ago, and I’m flying back alone, 36 years later. And I just couldn’t believe it was finally happening. I was mostly overwhelmed, incredibly happy, incredibly sad, incredibly lonely, and also incredibly proud of myself.
KATIE: She arrived in Korea sleep deprived and excited to take it all in. The sense of wonder she felt on the plane continued.
On the way from the airport to Seoul, she marveled at the landscape outside the train windows. It was just industrial farmland, but to Shannon, it was a site to behold.
SHANNON: I had my nose basically just like pressed to the window. I was just like, I was like those, you know, like those old garfields with like the sticky paws? And they would like stick to the window? That was me. And I was like, ‘You guys, there’s, there’s countryside outside. Nobody’s looking at the countryside. Look at the countryside. It’s beautiful!’
KATIE: On her first full day, Shannon set out to explore. It was hot and rainy, but she wanted to walk as much as possible. She visited some of Seoul’s most famed historic sites and eventually found herself at a palace.
The entrance to the grounds was set under a large open-air pavilion. A wiry middle-aged man at the turnstile took Shannon’s ticket. As he was ripping off the stub, he began trying to tell her something – in Korean. She didn’t understand.
It was now or never. She pulled out the laminated card and handed it to him. He read it and broke into a warm smile. Switching to his limited English, he told her how happy he was, how wonderful it was, that she was there.
SHANNON: Koreans aren’t really huggers, but they will give you like very strong shoulder pats. Sort of like a one-arm hug but like with aggressive patting. So I got some aggressive pats.
KATIE: She felt accepted, understood. These aggressive shoulder pats, this type of connection, was exactly what she was hoping for. It turns out that her ticket included a secret garden tour, and he wanted to make sure she didn’t miss it.
In the ensuing days, Shannon traversed Seoul on foot, following her curiosities. Traveling alone meant she could exist solely in her own head. There was no need to make conversation, to entertain anyone, or to share her feelings. She also kept to herself, in large part, due to the language barrier. Her encounter at the palace had started things off on a positive note, but she still felt uncertain about how exactly to navigate the language gap.
SHANNON: I felt shy about speaking Korean, I felt shy about not speaking Korean, I felt shy about using my translator app.
KATIE: Nothing felt quite right, and everything made her feel self-conscious. As a result, a sort of imposed silence fell over her trip. Which actually had some unexpected benefits.
SHANNON: It was really nice to just like quietly travel around, because that was when I was my most successful at blending in.
KATIE: Speaking either English or Korean would quickly reveal her. But if she stayed quiet, she could pass as a local.
Being able to remain anonymous felt good. But there were also very concrete ways she felt herself fitting in. For example, at home, she was shorter than a lot of the people around her, but here, she was surrounded by people her own size.
SHANNON: I remember sitting on the benches, just like a stone bench or something, and I was like, ‘Oh my, yeah, that is the height a bench should be! My knees and hips are in alignment. I feel thrilled. This place is amazing.’
KATIE: These instances had started to chip away at Shannon’s feelings of imposter syndrome, but it was still there. She looked like everyone else, but in many ways, she still felt so foreign.
And then, part way through her trip, something changed how she saw herself.
WILLOW: Hey, it’s Willow. We’ll hear the rest of the story in a moment. But first, I want to tell you about another podcast you might enjoy.
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And now, back to the story.
KATIE: Shannon went to Korea with only a loose itinerary. But the one thing she knew she wanted to do was to go hiking. Throughout her life, being outdoors had been a precious opportunity for her to be present in the moment. It’s where she had always felt closest to the larger thing that connects us all.
After arriving in Korea, Shannon chose a sunny day to visit Bukhansan National Park. The park is 30 square miles of forest, temples, and granite peaks. It’s a popular hiking destination. And unlike the national parks she’d gone to in the U.S., this one was easy to get to. Only a subway’s ride away from the center of Seoul.
SHANNON: To be in such an urban environment and then immediately in such a mountainous park was wild. It would be the equivalent in my American life of, like, being in Manhattan, in New York City, and then, like, 40 minutes later, I’m in the center of Acadia National Park.
KATIE: She went to the information booth to get trail recommendations. The park ranger suggested a scenic loop, and she set off. As she walked, the mountains rose up ahead of her in the distance. She passed parents carrying young kids, elderly Korean couples, and large groups of ajummas, middle-aged Korean women. Light-hearted chatter filled the air.
SHANNON: And it’s so hot and I did not bring the right clothing. And I’m sweating through my t-shirt like a maniac, and it was sort of embarrassing. Because again, everybody else was in, like, beautiful sweat-wicking hiking gear. And these older folks are just, are just, like, kicking my butt, just like lapping me.
KATIE: Eventually, she came to a turn off.
SHANNON: There was a sign that said something, and I translated it sort of loosely on my phone, and it didn’t say “caution” or anything like that, so I was like, ‘Alright, I don’t necessarily know if I’m supposed to be down here. There’s nobody on this path. But forgiveness not permission, so here we go!’
KATIE: The whole park had been stunning, but this trail was surreal.
SHANNON: There were these butterflies that I was just openly laughing at ‘cause they were so beautiful and so unusual to me. I was just like, ‘What, what is that? It’s so beautiful. This must be a joke.’
KATIE: She finally arrived at a clearing with a small buddhist temple. There was a pond and a large statue of buddha.
SHANNON: It was just so lovely. It was a really sunny day. Light breeze. Cicadas so loud everywhere.
KATIE: She climbed up a little higher to see the view. The city of Seoul unfolded below her, and she lost track of time, utterly absorbed in the moment. Her sweaty t-shirt clung to her back, and she felt the weight of her backpack. This was it.
SHANNON: I came all this way to try to feel something here, and I’m feeling it. It was the most drastic shift of my life, but it wasn’t all of a sudden like, ‘Bam, now this is all yours!’ It was more like, ‘This has always been here, and it has always been a part of you, and now you just know about it.’
KATIE: On that mountain, even if just for a moment, her imposter syndrome vanished.
SHANNON: That sense of, ‘I’m just a person who googled things about Korea’ went away. Now I had been in the streets and I had been in the mountains and rivers, and that sense of imposter syndrome, I mean I still have it, but a large chunk of it went away.
KATIE: For the rest of the trip, Shannon felt lighter, more at ease. Going to Korea and seeing it for herself gave her a new authority to talk about the place she was born. Now she could speak from first-hand experience about Seoul’s neighborhoods, about the food, about social etiquette, and so much more.
But it went beyond that. Something fundamental had shifted inside of her.
SHANNON: At first I thought imposter syndrome was about everybody else, like proving to everybody else that I was Korean, and it, in an after-school special kind of way, it was more about proving to myself that I was Korean. You know, we’re all our own worst critics, and nothing could’ve convinced me otherwise, maybe, except doing this trip, doing it alone, being so scared, being so apprehensive, being so excited, and then finally following all the way through on this thing that I wanted to do.
KATIE: That day in Bukhansan National Park, Shannon finally felt Korean. Fully embracing this identity gave her a new confidence.
SHANNON: I just got over the shame of not being able to speak Korean, and I just started boldly speaking bad Korean. And sometimes it would work, and they would respond in Korean, or sometimes they would be like, “Haha, how can I help you?” And I’m like, ‘That’s fine!’ Because I, it just felt like, ‘Yes, I’m Korean. I don’t speak Korean, but I’m Korean.’
KATIE: It’s been almost a year since Shannon’s trip to Korea. And in that time, she’s come to embrace who she is. She cooks Korean food without worrying about whether it’s correct. She wears Korean clothing with pride. And she confidently speaks the limited Korean she knows without fear of critique.
It’s not entirely clear what it was about that mountainside in Bukhansan National Park that was so transformative for her. Sometimes, nature changes us in ways we can’t quite explain.
But what she does know is that she no longer feels like such an outsider. She’s creating her own definition of what it means to be Korean. And that definition doesn’t require her to prove anything, to anyone.
WILLOW: That was Katie Reuther. She was one of Out There's production interns this season. And she's now doing a fellowship with American Public Media.
Coming up next time on Out There
JEONGYOON HAN: Say you’re a mouse living next to a busy highway, and it’s so loud you don’t hear the fox sneaking up behind you.
RACHEL BUXTON: You know, they’re listening for predators approaching, and if they can’t hear that, then, you know, maybe they’re more likely to be eaten by that predator.
WILLOW: Tune in on July 2 for a special bonus episode from our friends at Outside/In. It’s all about silence and sound.
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Support for Out There comes from PeakVisor.
PeakVisor is an app that helps you make the most of your time in the mountains. They have intricate 3D maps to help you plan out adventures. They have a peak identification feature, which helps you figure out what mountains you’re looking at. That’s what I mentioned at the beginning of the episode. And they have a peak-bagging feature, so you can keep track of your accomplishments.
If you’d like to be a superhero of outdoor navigation, check out PeakVisor in the app store. You just might love it.
Today’s story was reported, written, and narrated by Katie Reuther. Story editing by me, Willow Belden. Katie and I collaborated on the sound design. And special thanks to Maria Ordovas-Montanes for production assistance.
Out There’s audience growth director is Sheeba Joseph. Our ambassadors are Tiffany Duong, Ashley White, and Stacia Bennet. And our theme music was written by Jared Arnold.
We’ll see you next week for a bonus episode. And in the meantime, have a beautiful day, be bold, go outside, and find your dreams.
Credits
Story by Katie Reuther
Story editing by Willow Belden
Sound design by Katie Reuther and Willow Belden
Production assistance from Maria Ordovas-Montanes
Music includes works from Blue Dot Sessions
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