There's a voice in your head.

It says things like:

"Real developers would know this already."

"I'm just using AI—I'm not actually coding."

"Someone is going to find out I don't know what I'm doing."

"I shouldn't call myself a developer until I understand everything."

That voice is lying to you.

Not because imposter syndrome isn't real—it is, painfully so. But because the identity you're chasing doesn't exist, and waiting until you "deserve" it is a trap that keeps you from doing the work that matters.

Where This Comes From

Imposter syndrome doesn't appear from nowhere. It has sources.

Gatekeeping culture in tech. For decades, the tech industry has defined who belongs by credentials, jargon, and hazing rituals. "You call yourself a developer but you don't understand pointers?" This creates an environment where everyone feels like they might be caught.

Credential worship. CS degrees, bootcamp certificates, years of experience—we've created a ladder where everyone is looking up at the rung above them. Even senior engineers feel like imposters around principal engineers. It never stops.

Comparing your insides to others' outsides. You see someone's polished GitHub profile, their confident blog posts, their smooth conference talks. You don't see their confusion, their fear, their moments of staring at a bug for hours. You compare your uncertainty to their performance.

Why "Real Developer" Is a Meaningless Label

Here's something important: there is no certification body for "real developer."

No official definition. No test you pass that settles the question. No moment where you're definitively in or out.

The label is made up. And the goalposts move.

Know Python? "Real developers" know multiple languages. Know multiple languages? "Real developers" understand low-level systems. Understand systems? "Real developers" have contributed to open source. Contributed to open source? "Real developers" have built companies.

There's always another qualification, another hurdle, another reason why you don't count yet.

The cruelest part? People with 20 years of experience feel it too. I've talked to engineers at major tech companies who still feel like frauds. The feeling doesn't go away with time or achievements—it just finds new things to attach to.

The Identity Trap

Here's what imposter syndrome actually does: it keeps you focused on identity instead of action.

"Am I a real developer?" is the wrong question.

The right questions are:

  • Did I solve a problem?
  • Did I ship something?
  • Did someone find it useful?

Those questions have answers. They're concrete. They're not about who you are—they're about what you did.

When you chase the identity, you're always waiting. Waiting to feel ready. Waiting to feel qualified. Waiting for permission that isn't coming.

When you focus on the work, you ship things. And shipping things—that's what actually matters.

Reframing the Work

Let me offer a different way to think about what you're doing.

If you're using AI to help you build software, you're not "pretending to code." You're using the best available tools to create things. That's what professionals do.

A filmmaker doesn't feel like a fraud for using cameras instead of painting each frame by hand. A writer doesn't feel like a fraud for using a word processor instead of a typewriter. Tools evolve. Using them well is a skill.

The output is real. The product is real. The users are real. The problems you're solving are real.

How you built it? That's implementation detail.

The Permission You Don't Need

Here's the truth: no one is coming to validate you.

No authority is going to tap you on the shoulder and say, "Okay, now you're a real developer. Now you can feel confident."

That permission slip doesn't exist.

So you have two options:

  1. Keep waiting for validation that isn't coming, and stay stuck.
  2. Decide that you don't need external validation, and start building anyway.

The second option is scarier. It means acting before you feel ready. It means shipping things that might be judged. It means claiming an identity you feel unqualified for.

It's also the only option that leads anywhere.

What Actually Matters

Let me say it plainly:

Your users don't care how you built it. They care whether it solves their problem.

Your customers don't care about your credentials. They care whether your product works.

Your future self won't care about your imposter feelings today. They'll care whether you shipped things and learned from them.

The work is what matters. The identity is a distraction.

Practical Antidotes

Feelings are hard to argue with. Here are some practical things that help:

Keep a "shipped" list. Every time you finish something—anything—write it down. When imposter syndrome hits, read the list. The evidence is harder to argue with than feelings.

Document problems you solved. Not just what you built, but specific problems you worked through. "Spent 3 hours debugging an authentication issue, finally realized the token was expiring." That's real work. That's what developers do.

Talk to users. If anyone uses what you've built, talk to them. Their gratitude is real. Their problems you solved are real. That feedback anchors you in reality.

Unfollow people who make you feel small. If certain accounts, communities, or people consistently trigger your imposter syndrome, remove them. Your mental environment matters.

Remember that confidence is not a prerequisite. You don't need to feel confident to ship. Confidence is often a result of shipping, not a requirement for it.

The Real Dividing Line

Here's what separates people who build things from people who don't:

It's not talent. It's not credentials. It's not feeling ready.

It's the willingness to keep going despite not feeling qualified.

Every successful builder I know has felt like an imposter at some point. Most still do occasionally. The difference is they don't let the feeling stop them.

They ship anyway.

They learn anyway.

They keep building anyway.

That's the only secret. The rest is just showing up.

Your Identity Can Wait

You can spend the next year trying to become a "real developer" and still feel like an imposter at the end.

Or you can spend the next year shipping things and see what happens.

The identity question will sort itself out. Or it won't, and it won't matter, because you'll have built things that help people.

Stop waiting to feel ready.

Start building.

The voice in your head is wrong. And the only way to prove it is to ship something.

Continue Reading

This post is part of a series on the new rules of building in the AI era: