The Gift of Stuttering

It’s cliché among the stuttering self-help community to say that stuttering is a gift. Despite turning stuttering into a huge positive in my life, I never really considered it a gift. If it was a gift at all, it was an unwanted gift that I was forced to open and accept.

A couple months ago, I attended a one day workshop sponsored by the New York City NSA chapters. Chris Constantino and Emma Alpern posed this question:

Is our pride reflective of unsatisfactory therapy or is there something special about stuttering?

Here’s what they said: Stuttering gives us access to experiences that are not available to fluent speakers. The vulnerability of stuttering allows for greater intimacy than fluent speech. It allows us to relate to people in unique ways. We have an increased likelihood of raw moments. These are the moments that separate the monotony of daily life. These moments add meaning and texture to our lives. We find excitement in the unpredictable. We have a richness of experience that would not be available to us if we did not stutter.

Flash forward to this national conference during a workshop about stigma. Michael Boyle, a speech-language pathologist, researcher, and person who stutters, shared his most recent research that revealed that contact, or sharing your personal story, was more effective at changing attitudes and beliefs about stuttering, as opposed to simply educating or protesting. Our stories give us power. Our words force people to have patience, compassion, and respect.  

This year’s keynote speaker, David Resnick, reminded us to “tell your story over and over again because it’s a story of bravery and courage.”

The stuttering community amazes me every day. It’s having tears through the struggle, but finding joy in the bravery. It’s friendships full of empathy and empowerment. I’m not sure what other community enables such rich relationships to be formed.

During a two hour open mic session, 20 somethings shared their stories. Several had never spoken in front of a group and many had never dared to step near a microphone. These are their words:

“I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I didn’t stutter”

“Look at the positive even through a hardship”

“My stuttering is a blessing”

“How different we all are, but how united stuttering makes us”

“I know the words I want to speak, but with stuttering they come out weak”

“I thought of changing my name. I was about to fill out the paperwork, but then the conference happened.”

“These guys I’ve only known for several hours, but it felt like I had known them for years”

“This is not about me. This is about the 1%”

“Embrace fear, overcome shame”

“Advocate for others who can’t speak up for themselves”

“My strength is because of the NSA”

“Continue, don’t stop, push forward”

“I’m really grateful I’m not just like everyone else”

“The cure is you yourself. Keep talking”

“I’ve always been social, I’ve always had friends, but I’ve always felt alone.”

“Having friends who stutter changed everything for me.”

“I’ve come to realize that my stuttering is a gift to help people with their struggles.”

And my favorite:

“This is so cool. I could stay up here and talk for hours.”

This was my 5^th NSA conference and every year, I leave with a hole in my heart. Really though, there is an actual pit in my stomach of loneliness, isolation, and loss of friendship.

After this conference, however, I decided to play around with Chris’s idea. The NSA is full of raw moments, open stuttering, courageous acts, and an intimacy that is found no where else. But why can’t we carry this with us in the world? On my travels home, I told the uber drive, a passenger waiting for his flight, and the lady sitting next to me on the plane about where I was, what I was doing, and what stuttering is.

I once went to a talk entitled, “What is happiness” discussing recent research about what actually makes people happy. Two points from this talk stood out to me. Happiness comes from:

1. Being apart of something bigger than yourself

2. Giving back and helping others

Stuttering gives me access to both of these things, a privilege many fluent people do not have. So, thank you for the gift. It’s actually pretty nifty.