“Humor is just truth, only faster.”
Gilda Radner
When I created the t-shirt above, it was an attempt to use humor to deflate the pressure that often comes with rolling lefse alone in my kitchen and especially at markets in front of gatherings.
At markets such as the recent, hugely successful Norsk Hostfest in Minot, North Dakota, I worried that customers would not get the humor in the t-shirt. After all, it’s talking about imposter syndrome, which seemingly has nothing to do with lefse. Right? Wrong. Customers got it. They howled at this t-shirt, which was one of my better-selling products at the Hostfest.
When I am at markets rolling — and even when I am not rolling in the public eye — I always want to roll lefse rounds that are big, thin, and round. Especially round. It gives me pleasure and some street cred, and it makes me feel good when people applaud (it’s happened) or they say, “I’ve never been able to get them that round. How do you do that?” They ask and I tell them and show them, just as I would in my lefse classes.
The F Word
I admit, however, that even though I have rolled countless beautiful lefse, there is still a wee demon on my shoulder saying with every round I roll at the market and with that first round I demonstrate in my classes: “You’re an imposter. You can fool them for a little while, but I know what you really are. A fraud.”
Imposter syndrome was first described in 1978 in high-achieving businesswomen by psychologists Suzanne Imes and Pauline Rose Clance. Since then, it’s been found in all genders and in many lines of work. “One study found that as many as 82% of all people have felt like a fraud at some point — even scientist Albert Einstein,” according to an article in WebMD. People with imposter syndrome are perfectionists who feel they have to be superheroes just to be accepted. They dread the shame of failure, pooh-pooh wins as just luck, and fear success because their luck won’t hold when it’s time to repeat the success.
It may seem silly, but I see imposter syndrome in my lefse class. To be clear, making lefse is a time of laughter and light-hearted humor. Imposter syndrome is not in the picture. But for some folks, it is in the mind when they start to roll. The students want to make very good lefse. They don’t want to make average or bad lefse. Often, they’ve been there, done that in front of Mom or Grandma, who, of course, made perfect lefse. After that type of experience, they may have quit or have settled for making “meh” lefse, justifying their so-so outcomes by saying, “People still eat it.”
But often, just getting by with “meh” lefse is not satisfactory. So they come to my class keenly interested, often determined, to make very good lefse. Maybe Mom or Grandma has passed away, and they want to make lefse now for the family. Maybe Mom and Grandma are far away, and they want to build on the family tradition with their own efforts and style. Maybe they want to try something new, but it’s in their nature to do it well, very well.
THE Lefse King
I was rolling along at a market shortly after I took the domain name Lefseking.com, and this guy watched with arms crossed and wearing a skeptical look. He picked up my card that featured Lefseking.com, which distracted me and I speared a very nice round with my turning stick. I looked at the guy, who shook his head and said, “So YOU’RE the Lefse King?”
I laughed it off and kept on rolling. I have faced imposter syndrome many, many times and have learned to quiet the demon by being kind to myself, not comparing myself to others, and accepting praise with a thank you and not a thanks but … . I pass on these kinds of ways to overcome imposter syndrome in my classes.
I am not THE Lefse King, but rather A Lefse King. There are lots of Lefse Kings and Lefse Queens in Lefse Land. They are known for making outstanding lefse. The goal with my demonstrations and lefse classes is to develop more Lefse Kings and Lefse Queens.
People love to watch lefse being rolled, and they absolutely love to roll it themselves. They love the smell. They love the taste. They love the memories. They love the hope that comes with witnessing lefse rolled round and thin, and then doing it. When people watch me at markets, I often hear them say: “I think I can do that. I’ve got Mom’s grill and all. I just need to get the stuff out and try it again.” And then they do it.
That makes me feel good, knowing that what I do in markets and in my lefse classes can help preserve a grand old tradition by rallying the troops and getting people into or back into the lefse-making game.