So far in my college career, my main motivation for doing anything has been food of the non-dining hall assortment. When my roommate offered a spot to go with her for the Jefferson Society’s Wilson Day Formal, I happily obliged. Good food and a chance to wear that dress I’ve had in my closet for two years? Sign me up!
Little did I know the Jefferson Society is a very prestigious organization. Not just any plebeian U.Va. student can be a member of this well known literary and debating society, of which Edgar Allan Poe and Woodrow Wilson were members — hence the name Wilson Day. When Wilson Day rolled around, my roommate and I giddily got ready for the formal like it was junior prom all over again. I caked on makeup and eyeshadow and spent a good 20 minutes deciding which way to part my hair. We took an Uber to the Lawn — walking in heels was absolutely out of the question — and sauntered through the white colonnades, emboldened by our perfectly winged eyeliner.
There were already several groups of impeccably dressed people on the Lawn when we arrived. My roommate easily slid into conversation with some of the upperclassmen members discussing politics and Kurt Vonnegut. I listened quietly, trying to remember what book Vonnegut wrote. Once more members came to the Lawn, they started gathering for pictures.
While each Jefferson Society constituent arranged themselves on the steps of the Rotunda, I stood awkwardly to the side and watched them flash their most convincing smiles. As the steps got more crowded, I stepped back onto the grass and my heels sunk down suddenly. With that jolt, I quickly realized there was a clear division between myself and the rest of the crowd around me. My perfectly parted hair fell out of place. I was an imposter.
The rest of the night, this idea that I was an imposter loomed over me. The beautiful Dome Room of the Rotunda seemed to watch over me saying, “You can’t eat this elegant salad. This is for the Jefferson Society. You are not in the Jefferson Society. Did you just take the last ball of butter from the table? Who do you think you are?” I nervously chewed at my steamed asparagus and tried to look like I wasn’t just mooching off my roommate’s kind offer.
The evening wore on with pleasant banter and I stayed relatively silent, afraid that any word I said would cue people to my pretense. While passing around the dinner rolls, one young man at our table turned to the girl next to him and asked, “So what does the Jefferson Society do, anyway?” I turned to look at him. Did he just say that? He must be an imposter, too! I expected the girl to gasp in horror and boot him from the Rotunda, aghast at his intrusion. Instead, the girl laughed and explained the ins and outs of the organization without any derision.
As the main course came out, I gradually began talking more and came to realize I was the only one in the room who thought I was an imposter. Yes, others knew I wasn’t actually in the club, but they didn’t treat me any differently. They engaged in my opinions and shared my same love of well-cooked chicken. By the end of the night I was taking pictures with the rest of them and ate every bite of white chocolate cheesecake, without any guilt.
This entire college experience has me feeling like a faker 90 percent of the time. I don’t know how to talk to professors or ask coherent questions in class or sign a lease for an apartment. I can barely decide what to eat for breakfast in the morning, yet I go about my day pretending I have it all together.
However, my night as a Jeff Soc imposter showed me that, most of the time, the only one who thinks you need to pretend is yourself. I couldn’t enjoy the people, the food or the environment during the whole evening in the Rotunda because I felt like I didn’t deserve any of it. As an imposter, I didn’t deserve any of it. When I finally realized I didn’t need to feel like an intruder and that people accepted me whether I knew what book Kurt Vonnegut wrote, I felt a freedom to enjoy myself.
Everyone can feel like they’re faking it, and it’s honestly a very insecure place to be. We are constantly checking over our shoulders to see if anyone will find us out and angrily grab the forks out of our hands before we can take the next bite of asparagus. The truth is though, we don’t have to fake it because we aren’t imposters. Everyone has come to this college because they deserve to be here. Though I was not actually a part of the Jefferson Society, I am a part of U.Va. I am not an imposter here and neither are you. So eat the asparagus and the white chocolate cheesecake, too!
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