About the Author: David Alpuche is a photographer/entrepreneur from Mexico City. He has won multiple speaking awards in Toastmasters, was named “Chapter Leader of the Year” by the National Stuttering Association, and is currently one of the leaders in To Be Like Me, a non-profit dedicated to breaking down the barriers that exist for those with disabilities and shed light on the positive impact of inclusion, ignite compassion, and foster awareness of the unique abilities of others. David likes to stay active by playing soccer, volleyball, and doing yoga. He speaks multiple languages and also likes to play chess, read, and listen to live music.

“I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.” —Mother Teresa

In the last decade I have talked about stuttering in front of thousands of people. At chapter meetings of the National Stuttering Association, at universities, at Toastmasters meetings, at conferences, in classrooms, in front of children, in front of adults, online, and in person.

Today I can proudly say that I like being known as “the guy who stutters.”

Trust me, I wasn’t always like this and it’s been a long path, but I can tell you exactly where it started.

As is the case for most guys, it started with a woman. I met her in 2011 at my first conference of the National Stuttering Association. Let’s call her Catherine. Before I met her I had never had a female friend who stuttered, but she was way more than that. She was not only a person who stuttered herself, she was also a Speech Pathology student, and to round it up, she was gorgeous. Not going to lie, I was totally infatuated by her. After spending some time together at the conference we stayed in touch. We would send each other messages. We would write each other letters and send gifts. In a gesture that only magnifies the level of comfort I had with her, we would even talk on the phone! For hours! *gasp*

It was beautiful, but I’m not here to tell you about my short-lived-love-story. I want to tell you about a conversation we had one night, that I believe changed the course of my life and gave it some meaning that I still carry to this day.

Both Catherine and I were passionate about stuttering. We would talk about it often, and from a variety of perspectives.  We shared this one thing, but we were actually very different: I grew in Mexico City; she grew up in the American Midwest. My first language is Spanish, learning English as a child; she grew up with English, and was learning Spanish as an adult. She had speech therapy since she was a kid, and was going to college to become a Speech Pathologist herself; I was taken by my mom to a “witch,” in a small town in Mexico, as a last resort to try to cure my stutter. We were very different but that just made for the best conversations. 

One night we were talking about how stuttering is portrayed in the media, and the both of us felt a disconnect between what we wished we would see on TV, and what was actually there. In short, we both agreed that the only people who you saw on the TV talking about stuttering… didn’t stutter. They were always “I used to stutter” people. They were “I overcame stuttering” people. 

It was James Earl Jones talking about how as a kid his life was hell because he stuttered, but he practiced reading poetry in front of the mirror until he could recite them fluently, and that’s why he had a career. Once he learned to say his lines without a stutter he became a success. 

It was  Samuel L. Jackson, who discovered he could use the word “motherfucker” to get through a speech block, and found his calling when he learned to “pretend to be other people who didn’t stutter.” 

The narrative behind all their stories was this: only when I stopped stuttering my life improved. It was mostly people who, if I named them, you would more than likely say “really? I didn’t know they stuttered!” 

Catherine was a smart woman, with a good education and access to therapy since she was a kid, but she still stuttered.  Me? I don’t have a college degree but you better not call me dumb, I am a confident smartass that loves to argue! I know the techniques, I know stuttering back and forth, or at least what we know so far, yet I still can’t say my name at first try to save my life. 

Some people outgrow their stuttering, some people learn to control it with therapy, some hide it, but for Catherine, myself, and millions of people around the world, stuttering is something that will stay with us. It’s not that we are not trying hard enough, it’s just the way we talk.

That night, both of us wished that there was “somebody famous” who stuttered and didn’t hide it. Somebody who was just out doing his or her thing, stuttering publicly, and didn’t look mortified or embarrassed by speaking differently. Somebody cool that was so much more than you wouldn’t care that they couldn’t speak normally. 

Then, she said it: “Why not you?” What? “Yeah, why not you? You are obviously passionate about it. You are interesting. You are funny. You are super outgoing. I think you’d be a good spokesman for stuttering.” 

My usual smartass self had no answer. 

Writing about this moment makes me smile because I remember just staring at her while in my mind I kept searching for reasons why it couldn’t possibly be me. Forget about talking about stuttering publicly with others, back then I wouldn’t even admit it to myself. I was juuuuust at the very beginning of my “stuttering journey.” I had just found out that I was part of the community. I was new to my chapter of the NSA. I was just starting to feel less alone. I was barely scraping by working at a restaurant. I was totally not THAT guy…. but… 

“An aim, an ambition, provides the structure necessary for action. An aim provides a destination, a point of contrast against the present, and a framework within which all things can be evaluated. An aim defines progress and makes such progress exciting. An aim reduces anxiety because if you have no aim, everything can mean anything or nothing, and neither of those two options makes for a tranquil spirit. What you aim at determines what you see.” – Jordan Peterson, in 12 Rules for Life.

Over the following months little by little I started to change. I started to talk about stuttering with the people around me, like friends and coworkers. Then it grew to friends of friends. Then I started posting about stuttering on social media. Then a friend, who was a speech pathologist at an elementary school, invited me to talk to a class of 5th graders, and I talked to them about facing their fears, while facing mine. Then I joined Toastmasters. Then I became leader of my local chapter of the NSA. Then I started to get invites to be a guest on stuttering podcasts. Then I was asked to be one of the hosts of Stutter Social, an online support group. Then I presented at conferences. Then I started being invited to be part of panels about stuttering at universities all over the country. Then I was recruited by a non-profit called To Be Like Me to be one of their “stuttering experts,” and teach children around Dallas about stuttering. 

Then, one night a couple years ago while talking with a good friend, he asked me how I got so involved with the stuttering community and I replied (after an undisclosable amount of drinks): you know how there are people that become synonymous with something? Like if somebody says “basketball” you think Michael Jordan, or maybe Lebron or Kobe? It doesn’t have to be just one person, but it’s only a handful of people that come to mind? I kinda wanna be that guy for stuttering. I don’t even want them to know my name, I’ll be happy if when somebody brings up stuttering somebody goes “oh, yeah, there’s that one guy… he’s cool.” I don’t think there’s competition to be that that guy, you know?

It’s been almost 10 years since that first conversation with Catherine and I don’t think I’m that guy yet, but who knows…  If stuttering has taught me anything it is patience.

Or if it’s not me, why not you?