About the Author: Ezra Horak is a lifelong (basically) stutterer who lives in the USA. They run the popular platform Stutterology, where their mission is education and advocacy from a stuttering perspective – for SLPs, for parents and guardians, for allies, for strangers… and of course, for fellow people who stutter. They have been involved with various stuttering non-profits for 10 years, and currently serve as co-chair of the board for SPACE: Stuttering, People, Arts, Community, Education. Their interests outside stuttering are limited but mostly include researching family history and hanging out with their cats. Check them out on instagram or facebook at @Stutterology

Ok, first question: Is it a burden to listen to feminine voices? Or is it an indicator that real listening is not happening?

When I was younger, I assumed I didn’t like listening to women on the radio… their voices grated on my nerves: too high pitched, too low pitched and manly, too angry, too calm, too childlike.

I grew up wanting to be on stage and wanting to speak, but I would think to myself, ‘But I’m a girl and I stutter. No one will want to listen to me.’ Even though I could see that not every single person felt the way I did, my own internalized stigma had me assuming people listened as a sacrifice. No one likes the sound of feminine voices, but… some people are just kind.

It finally hit me when I was in my mid-20s and attended a church with a pastor who was a woman… and I really liked her as a person: wise in both a clever and insightful way. When she began to speak on stage, that internal “Too childlike…” began. But this time, I noticed the thought and challenged it: no, I know this person. I like her. I want to listen to her. So I told myself to focus on the content of what she said.

After a sermon or two, I no longer even noticed her tone. In fact, I even found it engaging in a way that some men were unable or unwilling to do. As time went on, I observed my tendency to listen to male podcasters, actors, etc. I wondered at my own bias, and began to force myself to listen to the content before I judged it.

The issue often was not the other person’s voice. It was that I was focused on myself instead of focusing on what they were saying. I listened for parts of their voice that I was unused to and uncomfortable with, and almost never what they were saying. I was, in fact, being a bad listener. And that negatively impacted both my own experience (how much less I could learn!) and the experience of the speaker. 

It was never the pastor’s job to change her voice into one I preferred. It was my job to listen better.

Now I ask, is it a burden to listen to stuttering, or an indicator that someone is not listening correctly?

A lot of us who stutter assume our voice is a burden. When we assume this, at its best, it means we ask people to “Please be patient with me” – as if it requires something big to listen to a dysfluent voice. (Spoiler alert: most people don’t mind. Some of us who stutter… ok me, I mean me… can be hyper critical of what makes a good voice.) 

But when we assume our voice is a burden, it might go insofar as removing ourselves from living life the way we want to. We don’t apply for jobs that interest us, assuming no one will want to listen to us. We worry about the stigma others might have instead of holding them accountable to that same stigma. 

Growing up, my mom told me, “If a teacher cuts you off, you need to let me know. That’s their issue that they can’t just wait. It’s just a stutter. All they have to do is listen.”

And while I still worried about the stigma for a long time, and limited myself vastly (and occasionally was limited by others), I still held the belief that if someone is unwilling to wait for me to speak, they’re the ones with the problem. But I didn’t live that way. While I mentally knew stuttering deserved to be listened to, I honestly didn’t think it would be.

I wish I could say I just started believing my friends and loved ones when they said they enjoyed listening to me speak. But it wasn’t until I made friends with other people who stuttered – when I forced myself to do what I did with feminine-sounding voices and just listen to people – that I could start to realize that no, stuttering is not a burden to listen to.

Occasionally it may take effort to listen closely for the content, but plenty of things are effortful – reaching something on a high shelf, for example. But I wouldn’t call it a burden just because it takes me effort to do.

I know that when it comes to stigma and accessibility, it’s not enough to say stuttering is not a burden! There is work to do to make the world more equitable for people who stutter. Our feel good slogans don’t help a call center employee who is required to keep calls under 3 minutes and actually can’t wait for stuttering. But an employer’s choice to make something inaccessible and thus bar equal access to people with speech and hearing disabilities is a created burden. It is not inherent to stuttering. And we need to hold these places accountable.

Because fundamentally at its core, stuttering is not a burden for a listener. Stuttering is just the way some people talk. It has never been our job to change how we talk so that others will listen to us. It has been their job to listen.