My Name is Lion-Heart: Emerging from Behind the Imposter Syndrome

By Dr. Merry C Lin, PhD

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or a while, it has felt like there was this thing growing inside of me that I could not contain. Kind of like the creature that bursts forth from one of the characters in the 1979 horror movie Alien. I know the human host died an excruciating death. But still, my point is that there was something coming to life inside of me and it had to come out.

(I thought about using the butterfly coming out of a cocoon analogy, but that wasn’t quite it. There was something about the violence of the alien’s bloody birth that felt more accurate. Plus, my memories of the movie are indelibly colored by the hard-core fierceness of Signourney Weaver’s character, who kicked some serious butt with the alien.)

I had just finished two days of intensive trauma therapy sessions, and I was either a) completely and 100% healed and wanted to brag about it; or b) I wanted to continue working through my baggage by writing; or c) I wanted honor to my story in some way. It’s probably a combination of B and C. I think my soul needed to put into writing some of my story—of what I have endured and who I have become—and to say thatI am a powerhouse too. 

As a woman of color who had been working as a pastor in a conservative evangelical (mostly white) Christian church, it was an excruciating time for me to face the reality that my competencies and capabilities would not open doors that my gender kept firmly closed. I was highly educated with a PhD in Clinical Psychology and came to that role as pastor with many years of experience in leadership and interpersonal skills. And yet, I felt that I couldn’t make a real impact in that space because of my gender and my race. 

Looking back, it was a very tender season in my life. I struggled with finding my voice. I battled daily with insecurity. And during the chaos of that time, I processed a kaleidoscope of uncomfortable emotions like rage, fear, and grief, as I faced the reality of sexism, misogyny, and racism. 

And yet, through all of that, I remained silent. Because I wasn’t sure where to go with it all, especially as a woman of color who has experienced racism and oppression but who has always coped by staying silent. Because I was afraid. Afraid to say the wrong thing and incite more anger and hatred. Afraid of losing the little remnant of “belonging” I had left. 

I am realizing that part of my silence comes from my Asian culture, which is often colored by the philosophy of fatalism. Since fatalism presumes that things won’t change for the better—or even change at all—an attitude of resignation is part of how we cope. This resignation can lead to silence; we choose silence as a way to cope with the fear of disappointment, failure, or rejection.

Individuals in most traditional Asian cultures can often feel it's safest just to make the best of one's station in life and not "rock the boat" by trying to change things too much or challenge the status quo. Especially when white supremacy culture has told us for centuries that they’re better than us. Our propensity to hide our emotions and present a socially acceptable public face has led to years of silent oppression for Asians adapting to life in Western cultures. The “model minority” was expected to stay quiet, work hard, and stay out of trouble.

On the surface, life was good for me as a “model minority.” I had come from an impoverished background as an immigrant in a foreign land and become a highly educated and “successful” psychologist. But secretly, I struggled with feeling like an imposter. Who was I really? I felt unanchored; I didn’t have a true sense of self. I realized that I had never counted the cost of trying to fit in. I had never processed the impact of years of tolerating racism while keeping an imperturbable smile. 

1971, Dr. Merry Lin (first row, middle) and her family

I grew up in the 60s and 70s when there were very few Asians in my neighborhood. I would often be the only person of Asian descent in my class. Bullying, teasing, ostracization, and sexual harassment were all part of my norm growing up. It happened so often that I became almost inured to it. And I coped with it by trying to fit in and by being nice

I became a people pleaser, because I experienced so much rejection and unkindness just for being Asian. I learned to be extra careful in what I say and do in hopes that maybe I’ll be accepted. I learned to be the nicest, smartest, kindest, whitest person I could be. I tried to suppress my Asian-ness when I was growing up and that resulted in a lot of shame. 

My history has marked me with this feeling of never being enough. But all those fears and insecurities were covered up by my aura of competence and confidence.  I was the poster child for imposter syndrome. 

But my life didn’t start off this way. 

Before I was born, I was expected to be a boy. My parents already had a first-born son, followed by a daughter. So I was going to be the spare. My grandmother, who was a midwife, was incredibly accurate in determining a child’s gender in utero. She would just listen to the  child’s heartbeat with a stethoscope. And she had pronounced definitively that I was going to be a boy. 

When my head popped out, completely bald with nary a wisp of hair, the doctors were already congratulating my mom on having a boy. But alas, as they pulled me out further…

Well, it became very apparent that I was a girl. My grandmother, always quick to pivot (rather than admit that she’d made a mistake), spoke a blessing over me. She declared that I was going to have the heart of a male (courageous and fierce) and the beauty, charm, and shrewdness of a female (yes, in those days, there were still very binary descriptions of males and females). 

Out of that blessing, I was told I would be a “Lion-Heart.” She told my parents I would be something special because God had a unique plan for my life.

I don’t know if she just meant to assuage my parents’ disappointment in having a girl instead of a boy, because I’m not sure that pronouncement was ever that prominent in their minds as they raised me. They were waiting for me to be born so that they could immigrate to North America, so I think they had many other concerns occupying their minds. It wasn’t something they ever brought up until much later, when my mom made an off-hand comment while looking at pictures of me as a baby in all of my bald glory. 

But whether you believe in the power of blessings or not, that thing that was trying to burst out of me and be birthed felt like it was that truth: the name that was spoken over me at birth. I was brave, bold, and fierce, despite  all the experiences I had growing up that tried to tell me otherwise.

One of my friends has been calling me “Mega” for years. She sees me as a powerful presence and as one meant to have impact in ways beyond what I could ever imagine. She sees me in a way that I am just learning to see myself. She has been calling out the thing that is in me:the true me. 

I’m not going to lie. I still struggle with imposter syndrome. I’m so used to second-guessing my words and presenting my thoughts and feelings to others in a neat box with a tidy bow. It actually makes me feel  very uncomfortable right now as I write these words. I’m wrestling with my inner critic who is trying to shut me down. I’m afraid people will judge my messy life. 

But I remind myself that Lion-Heart means being bravely and tenderly honest with my story. A life of integrity is one of showing up fully me, the person God created me to be. To live wholeheartedly is to no longer live divided. I have long hidden from myself and the world the truth of what I’ve experienced growing up, and so the cathartic nature of writing my story must include my experienced reality. 

This is something I must continually remind myself of and allow my whole self  to emerge from inside of me. I must come out of hiding. 

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Dr. Merry C. Lin is a psychologist, podcaster, and speaker with over 30 years of clinical expertise.  She is the Executive Director of Dr. Lin & Associates, where she leads a team of psychotherapists, life coaches, and leadership experts. A wise counsellor and respected speaker, she can be heard on her popular podcast, The Fully Lived Life, with her friend, Coach Gillian, where they speak about life, love and purpose through the lens of faith and science. She is an advocate for social justice and works globally to equip and support leaders who serve human trafficking and abuse survivors. Dr. Merry is the author of The Fully Lived Life: Rescuing Our Souls from All that Holds Us Back, and her teaching videos are available on YouTube and RightNow Media. She has a new book coming out, Rebecoming: Come Out of Hiding to Live as Your God-Given Essential Self in July 2024, in which she shares about her own journey of coming out of hiding while also presenting a compelling and practical process for personal transformation for readers. (https://linktr.ee/Drmerry)