Stuttering

What it means to never really say what you mean

It’s currently 11pm on day 1 of a live PE deal. Deciding to write this now is probably not one of the more astute decisions I’ve made, but a lot of my feelings about my speech have been coming to a head recently. Today at work, I came across an Atlantic article titled “Why I Dread Saying My Own Name”.

I’ve had a stutter since I was 6 or 7 years old. I might have had it before that even, but I wouldn’t know. Before I realized I had a stutter, I wanted to be a lawyer. I loved talking as a kid so I was always rattling off, and on some random day some adult told me that I couldn’t be a lawyer “if I spoke like that.” I don’t remember who that adult was, and since then it’s been impossible to remember how limitless I felt before that.

Ever since my diagnosis, I became acutely aware of how I spoke. In primary school, I cleverly avoided having to read any passages by constantly asking smart questions or looking intently at my teacher so they had no doubt that I was a good child and was paying attention. In secondary school, I hid behind my good grades and extracurriculars to avoid speaking publicly. In secondary school, I vividly remember the stories I convinced myself of, and subsequently shared to others about not wanting to be a school prefect when I really just didn’t want to have to recite the grace on the microphone or give my running speech. Even in college, through several classes, launching a startup, pitches to raise money, class presentations, and even job interviews, I shapeshifted in many ways just to get through. And even at my firm today, I shapeshift as needed to get my words across.

At this junction, I should probably explain what a stutter actually is. There are several degrees of stuttering, and most people believe that they do stutter and they might in some capacity. For me, stuttering me consists of blocks and pauses. A block is when the word literally does not come out. I could intend to say: “The cat is hideous” and just before I say “hideous”, something in my brain lets me know that no matter what I conjure, I will not be pronouncing “hideous”. Then the last minute scramble happens and you end up saying “The cat is …sort of ugly”, after pausing to pretend like you were looking for the right word. Sometimes tapping my leg, looking away, or twitching my eyelids will get the word to come out. No way to know which one will do it though. For the pauses, this for me is really just hooking on sounds, it’s mostly some tough consonants or consonant clusters. Over the weekend, I was watching the champions league final with my friends and I remember interjecting to say that “Zidane wasn’t a real manager” and after assertively getting everyone’s attention, it took a couple tries to get the “Z” sound to actually come out. They waited patiently though…good lads.

Excerpt from the Atlantic’s “Why I Dread Saying My Own Name” - January 2023

The pauses and blocks wane in intensity for me. When things are good, they lessen. That is, when you’re feeling particularly confident and capable, they happen a bit less frequently. And sometimes, you begin to think you’re fluent. The words just come out, and you revel in the superpowers that other people have - how indomitable they must feel. Sometimes, it’s so good or you’ve practiced so much or you’ve shapeshifted so cleverly that people just think you talk in a fascinating or careful way, In reality, you’re really just expertly navigating the blank word bullets in your brain.

But when things are bad, they get really bad. I remember during a 2-minute pitch competition for my startup in 2021, at the end of my 2 minutes the moderator apologized and told me that my network connection was interrupted so they couldn’t hear me. In reality, I was just so nervous that I literally sounded like a cracked record. At least it got me a 2nd attempt at the pitch. It was still pretty bad though.

Excerpt from the Atlantic’s “Why I Dread Saying My Own Name” - January 2023

Nevertheless, my stutter is part of me and I’ve learned to shapeshift with it and so far, I think I’ve done ok. Reckoning with it as a child meant identifying the things I could and could not do. It meant knowing I couldn’t be a lawyer anymore. It meant knowing that I couldn’t try to be a prefect in secondary school, and in college it meant that I talked myself out of accepting the offer to be Energy club President. It meant not wanting to be in KJ’s YouTube video when he asked (and it meant feeling an intense sense of shame when BG told me it sounded like shit - bless him though, he had no way to know I really tried). It meant that I precluded myself from so much. I chose to be quiet even when I had a lot to say. It meant that some days, I just didn’t want to deal with the shame. Today it means that as I start a 6-hour calls day with experts during my diligences, I selectively disclose my stutter to the people I speak with so that I can get ahead of the shame that I might feel, or just so that I don’t have to feign fluency. On some bad calls days, I practice how I will say my name at the start of the call endless times. Sometimes I just opt not to actually introduce myself on calls. It can get so stressful.

But at the same time, I’m proud of myself for all that I’ve powered through with it - the things I’ve botched and the things that have gone well. I’m proud of my ASA VP speech in college that was so rough I wanted to stop but I got through. I’m proud of my NSBE exec speech in 2017 that was so bad I wanted to hide for the rest of my life. I’m proud of how I force my name out even when I get stuck for a lifetime on the ‘A’ sound. I’m proud of how I asked TM in the spring of 2019 to be my girlfriend even if I didn’t end up using the words I actually wanted to use. I’m proud that I keep at it everyday, especially on the bad days when it feels like moving mountains to get anything out. I’m proud that I still go by “Awele” despite the innumerable times I’ve just wanted to change it to make my life easier with a name I know I won’t hook on.

And for whoever may need it - practice does help a little - Toastmasters helped (restarting this), speech therapy helped, standard psychotherapy also helps deal with the feelings. In my case, nothing has quite made it go away, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve begun intimating myself a bit more with it. I think I’m accepting it more now. I think it makes it easier.

So yeah, this one’s to remaining proud of yourself and to keep going everyday. I know we all have our own “stutters”. And if you can’t read the article (“Why I Dread Saying My Own Name”) because of the paywall, text me and I’ll gift you a version.

Apologies for any typos - got this out fairly quickly so I could go to bed. Day 2 of deal already.