The Fear of Looking Dumb (Even When I’m Not)

There’s a moment that happens to me at work more often than I’d like to admit.

Someone says something. A term. A process. A reference everyone else seems to understand immediately. And I don’t.

I feel it right away. That tight feeling in my chest. The split-second calculation. Should I ask? Should I just nod? Will this expose me?

Most of the time, I nod.

Not because I can’t say “I don’t know.”

But because I don’t want people to know that I don’t know.

Which is kind of wild, when you think about it. I’m capable. I do my job well. I’ve been in rooms where I belong. And still, there’s this quiet fear that asking a simple question will somehow undo all of that.

So instead, I stay quiet.

I jot down a note to Google later.
I tell myself I’ll figure it out on my own.
Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t.

What I always do is walk away feeling smaller than I need to.

The thing is, I don’t actually judge other people when they say, “Wait, can you explain that?” If anything, I feel relieved. Grateful, even. Like, oh good, it wasn’t just me.

But when it’s my turn? Suddenly the stakes feel higher.

I think part of it is that we’re taught, subtly and constantly, that competence means knowing. That confidence means certainty. That being good at something means never needing clarification.

But that’s not how real learning works. And it’s definitely not how real humans work.

The rare times I do say it out loud — “I’m not totally following” or “Can you back up for a second?” — nothing bad happens. No one rolls their eyes. No one questions why I’m there. Most of the time, the response is some version of, “Yeah, that part is confusing,” or “Good question.”

And every time, I think, Why don’t I do this more often?

I still struggle with it. I still feel that hesitation. I still have meetings where I choose silence over clarity.

But I’m trying to notice it now. Trying to name it for what it is. Fear, not fact.

Because not knowing doesn’t make me dumb.

It makes me honest.

And honesty turns out to be a lot less embarrassing than pretending.