Of the many freedoms we as Americans enjoy, freedom of speech is perhaps the most important. Having the right to say what we want, when we want, in a manner of our choosing is an incredible liberty that most of us take for granted. This freedom is especially near to my heart because, while the Constitution has granted me freedom of speech, my biology has hindered my ability to speak freely.
I stutter. No single characteristic, be it my gender, race, educational background or upbringing, has had so profound an effect on my development as the fact that I have a speech impediment.
Having a speech impediment is an incredibly challenging disability, not due to its severity, but because of its variability. With one person or in one type of situation, a person who stutters may be totally fluent, and in another, he or she may struggle to find any words at all. I can speak perfectly when I am alone, but if someone is listening, my vocal chords rarely allow me to form the words I wish to say. Perhaps most damaging of all, one of the hardest words to pronounce is my own name.
One of my most memorable “speaking moments” occurred during the first day of my first graduate class here at Maryland. We were going around the room introducing ourselves, and when it came to be my turn it took me no less than a full 30 seconds to, in front of 40 of my brand-new friends, pronounce my name. Situations such as this, and the incredible fear and anxiety that accompany them, are part of the daily routine of people who struggle with a stutter. The educational experience can be incredibly difficult for people with a speech impediment.
Throughout high school, my academic performance was always hindered by the fact that I chose not to participate in class, in extracurricular social activities or in developing close relationships with my peers. Stuttering, and the fear and anxiety it provoked, controlled my life. As a result of the anxiety and self-doubt, there came a time in my life when my self-confidence was at an absolute low. Under the weight of 18 years of remembered agony and facing a future that was less than promising, I made a conscious decision to face my fear. I resolved that every time I wanted to speak, I would try, and whether I failed, I would try again at the next opportunity.
For me, the turning point in my life revolved around this simple yet profound decision. While I still stutter, it no longer controls my life. In my fourth year of teaching here at Maryland, I teach a class of more than 300 students. When I stutter and stammer and my students chuckle, I now laugh alongside them – because, of all the sounds the human voice can produce, laughter is the most beautiful.
The greatest struggle of our generation, the most meaningful and that with the greatest consequences, will not be fought in the sands of the Middle East or decided in the voting booths. Our greatest challenge will be decided in our hearts and minds, as we either face our fears or allow them to run our lives. Though only a fraction of us struggle with a speech impediment, few of us are free from the internally hindering effects of self-doubt.
Many of us live every day with crippling concerns over our body image, our intellectual adequacy and our self-worth. Despite the incredible difficulty involved in confronting our demons, we owe it to ourselves to strive to reach our potential by coming to terms with our fears. We are who we are, but we can be who we want to be only if we have the courage and conviction to make the necessary changes in our life to support our vision. Our constant aim must be to improve ourselves and never let current circumstances, be they social, economic, psychological or biological, dictate our fate.
I am no longer ashamed to stutter. I am proud of what I have achieved in my life so far, and I know that my accomplishments are a function of my ability to overcome what I view as the single greatest challenge in my life: to speak freely. The truest form of character is forged in adversity, and only through facing our demons can we come to realize how incredibly wonderful the human experience can be. Still, every time the telephone rings, it takes me an extra heartbeat to collect myself, take a deep breath and take another shot at pronouncing my own name.
David Foster is a criminology and criminal justice graduate student. He can be reached at dfoster@crim.umd.edu.
