My Secret, Not My Stutter, Was Limiting My Life
Over 70 million people in the world stutter and there is no cure.
Job and life advice for young professionals. See more from Ascend here.
It’s your first day on the job at a new company and you are a little bit nervous. The environment is unfamiliar. You don’t know what to expect. Your main goal is to make a great a first impression, hit the ground running, and let your coworkers know you are smart, easy to work with, and a good addition to their team.
When HR greets you and the other new hires, they begin with introductions. You tense up. Some people may not think it is a big deal, but for you, someone who stutters, these moments can be difficult.
You count how many people are ahead of you.
Two people, one person.
The nerves start to rise. You are next. You stand and open your mouth, but nothing comes out. You struggle to talk, to give your name.
This is not a dream you wake up from. This is real life. This is what it is like to stutter.
Since the age of six, I have stuttered. There have been very few days in my life that I have not struggled to enunciate a word, complete a sentence, or communicate a thought. According to the National Institute of Deafness and Communication Disorders, stuttering is defined as a “speech disorder characterized by repetition of sounds, syllables, or words; prolongation of sounds; and interruption of speech known as blocks.”
Over 70 million people in the world stutter and there is no cure.
Most of the time, I am what speech pathologists call “fluent,” speaking clearly without interruptions or blocks. People who stutter can be fluent at times, and also struggle to communicate without using filler words like “uh” or “huh” at others. For me, there are moments when talking is easier and moments when talking is hard.
Growing up with a stutter is an everyday challenge. As a kid, you hide it by avoiding conversations with your peers. In grade school, you keep your hand down in class for fear of being called on to answer questions that you can thoughtfully answer. In high school, you dread the presentations during history and English literature. In college, the day before you defend your thesis, you pace back and forth in your room, wearing a hole in the carpet, talking slowly and taking deep breaths to calm yourself down.
We often find solace in stories about things “getting better” once you exit the tumultuous years of adolescence. I was teased throughout my adolescence and young adulthood. People snickered as I stumbled through words. But kids grow up and can learn. Some people can become kinder. You can surround yourself with adults who are educated and open-minded.
Still, when the way you express yourself and communicate is different from what we are taught is “the norm,” the hurdles go beyond finding your community. The obstacles you face as you enter new phases of your life are different, not always easier.
After I graduated and entered the job market, the interview became another hurdle to overcome. Sitting across the table from hiring managers, I was nervous, as are many others. Our nerves all manifest in unique ways, and for me, it was repeating the same words, talking way too fast, and starting every answer off with “Uh … ”
Many people assumed I hadn’t prepared or was a bad communicator. After one particular interview, the staffing firm I was working with received the feedback, “We would not be comfortable with LeRon talking with the executives.”
This is not to say that I didn’t land jobs. There were instances when I was cool and calm. I could answer questions with depth, crack a smile, and be confident. This didn’t occur regularly, though, and even still, I was isolated in those roles. I kept communication between my coworkers brief. I didn’t want them to know that I had a stutter because I didn’t want people to look at me differently, to be treated like there was something wrong with me.
There were times before work when I would stand in front of a mirror and practice talking with people. Pronouncing words slow, attempting to maintain eye contact, and trying to project confidence — a lot of the same tactics people use when giving presentations.
This is what people don’t usually understand. Because there is no cure, those of us with a stutter often maneuver our lives around it. Certain words we avoid and in circumstances that require us to speak in public, we don’t.
For me, this made the work environment incredibly challenging. When I’m comfortable, I love talking with people, asking questions, and learning. I consider myself a social person. Connecting with others is one of my favorite things in the world. By not talking, by always carrying this fear, I was not being true to my character.
I don’t know if you’ve ever had a secret, but if you have, you might know that it feels like a cage. I was putting myself in this “prison” because I was afraid. There were so many opportunities I missed and chances I passed up. My secret, not my stutter, was limiting my life.
I remember the day I finally said “Enough is enough.” I wanted to participate in a discussion about race at Glide Memorial Church and share my experience as a Black man in America. I had much to add about the subject, but when I opened my mouth, I felt an almost immediate tug, asking me, “What if you start stuttering?”
In that moment, I realized the biggest obstacle was myself. My mind was circling: “What if I sounded like this? What if I talked like that?” I couldn’t do it anymore. I decided it didn’t matter. I had something to contribute and my voice was a valuable one. It deserves to take up space and to be heard.
I began to open up to coworkers more, forced myself to present in front of my team, raised my hand to answer and pose questions during company meetings. There were still nerves, and it wasn’t always easy, but the more I did it, the easier it became. Reenergized, I got proactive about my love of open mic poetry, got up in front of crowds, and recited my work. Sometimes I tripped over words, took a little longer to say my name, or paused when I had to finish a sentence. But I accepted this part of myself and found that, when given the chance, many others did too.
As I began to share who I am with more of the world, I became a better version of him for myself.
This is the story I tell now. I tell it to show people who do — and also those who do not — stutter that our handicap is a small part of who we are. It does not define us. In 2018, it was the story I told on stage, in front of a crowd of 80 people during my TEDxWilsonPark talk. I have received so many messages of encouragement since.
Today I still stutter nearly every day. However, I no longer fear people’s reactions to my stammer. If it occurs while I am talking, I don’t acknowledge it, I just continue to talk. I refuse to let my handicap stop me from accomplishing my goals. I am a writer, author, speaker, and network engineer who happens to have a stutter.
My life doesn’t revolve around it because I won’t allow it.
LeRon L. Barton is a writer, author, and speaker based in San Francisco. He has written essays about race, mass incarceration, politics, tech, and dating. He has appeared in Salon, Black Enterprise, YourTango, Good Men Project, Mel Magazine, TEDxWilsonPark and, Al Jazzera.
My Secret, Not My Stutter, Was Limiting My Life
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