The world doesn't understand stuttering

For 10 seconds everything stops.

The room goes silent.

My body is filled with struggle and desperation as I try to get the sound out.

Fifty pairs of eyes glued on me, staring intently and curiously, as if I’m a mutant creature they’ve never seen before.

I haven’t had someone blatantly laugh at me in years. But it didn’t take long to remember the feeling. Suddenly, I’m 15 again, in that high school classroom with everyone staring at me wondering why I can’t say my own name.

They look at each other as I contort my face trying to say the sound. The silence is broken by shrieks of laughter, coming from the guy behind me. Joining him is the professor, who chuckles and says, “ooook we’re just going to move on then.”

Instinctively, I turned to the guy laughing and asked, “What are you laughing at?” and added, “Just so you know, I stutter, that’s what that was. It takes me a little longer to talk.” Under his breath, he muttered “Sorry” and said no more. Not that day and not ever again.

There are few words to describe what I felt. It’s a feeling deeper than humiliation. It’s a reminder that I lack something basic that they all have. In that moment, I’m naked and exposed – lying belly up and ready to surrender.

I’ve always felt accepted at NYU. There is a massive amount of tolerance for difference and a welcoming of diversity, in all forms.

So it confused me when this happened.

Maybe he didn’t know I was trying to talk. Maybe he didn’t know what was happening. Maybe he thought I just didn’t want to say it again. Stuttering is often the last thing on people’s mind. One hundred different assumptions are made before someone thinks this is just how someone talks, maybe I should give them some extra time.

But no extra time was given. No respect or curiosity was demonstrated. The world is unsafe for people who stutter. Society is designed for efficiency, not repetition. It runs on movement, not pauses. Therefore, our disability is seen as inferior. It is not understood. And therefore, we are not heard.

I knew the answer to that question. But the world will never know. Instead, I listen as everyone else eloquently answers the rest of the questions. I know every answer, but I refuse to open my mouth again. Why would I put myself through this torture and humiliation again? I am not a masochist.

Stuttering is one of the only disabilities that people still find acceptable to make fun of. What if someone with a physical disability volunteered to solve a math problem at the board? As the person was trying to get out of their chair, someone behind them starts laughing and the professor and says “ooook we’re just going to move on then.”

Yeah, that’s horrifying to think about. But what is the difference between these two situations?

The world understands physical disabilities. They don’t rush to other assumptions like they do with stuttering. The person is physically disabled is the first assumption, while the person is drunk, doesn’t care, has given up, etc. are secondary assumptions. Because stuttering is a hidden disability, it’s not always recognized. And because people who stutter aren’t always disfluent, it’s often met with confusion and misunderstanding.

After a restless night, I emailed the professor. I told him what happened and that the reason I was not able to repeat my answer louder is because I stutter. He apologized, profusely, and said he didn’t even know who was talking and had no idea I was even trying to say anything. I offered to speak to the class about stuttering because I wanted to clarify what had happened.

So I did.

I gave a short spiel in honor of International Stuttering Awareness Day approaching. I advertised that I stuttered, reiterated that it’s not okay to laugh at someone who stutters, and told people to ask if they had any questions.

How do we build a world that understands stuttering? Day by day, person by person. 

I think I’ll be long gone before I live in a world that understands stuttering. But I hope I can help build that world for my great great great great grandchildren who, yeah, will probably stutter.