From an audacious 7-year-old girl who loved giving recitations, the type who made sure everyone knew she was in the building, to an introverted teenager who dreaded the spotlight, that’s me.
As I grew older, I started to understand the strange looks I got whenever I spoke. They weren’t confused. They were judgmental, and they made me feel small.
I kept hoping that once I got older, I would somehow “grow out” of it.
Surprise: I didn’t.
Even in adulthood, I couldn’t ignore how uncomfortable I felt about the way I spoke. Sometimes I hated myself for it. Even though my parents and siblings poured love into me, that self-doubt lingered.
Maybe it’s just part of being human. We crave understanding and acceptance, especially for something so personal.
Did it affect my relationships? Definitely.
But here’s the thing. The people who stayed brought light and positivity. They saw me, not just my speech.
And that’s the beauty of being different. It attracts people who truly care. I wouldn’t change that for anything.
As someone with an atypical speech pattern, in my case stuttering, it’s not just about repeating sounds.
There’s physical tension, facial twitches, moments of speech paralysis, and full-body panic like your heart is lodged in your throat.
And beneath it all, the shame.
Stuttering isn’t caused by nervousness or a lack of intelligence. It’s a neurodevelopmental condition that affects about 1 per cent of the global population.
Yet the social stigma around it is often heavier than the condition itself.
We internalize so much: shame, frustration, self-criticism. It chips away at the joy we’re meant to feel each day.
But then something shifted.
I began to embrace the way I speak.
I stopped trying to fit into the box of “perfect speech.”
My voice is different, and that difference is beautiful.
I speak anyway. I show up anyway.
And with that, I felt liberated.
I’m still on the journey of self-discovery, still learning how to show up fully. But I want others to understand people with atypical speech, one step at a time.
The way we speak does not reflect how much we know, how deeply we care, or how capable we are.
So, what does the future hold?
Honestly, I don’t know. But I hope it gets better.
I hope we build a world where people with atypical speech are no longer “corrected,” dismissed, or spoken over. Where tech doesn’t mishear us, and society doesn’t misunderstand us.
Because people with atypical speech are intelligent, confident, and resilient.
We thrive every day while carrying what sometimes feels like a walking panic attack.
Do most people know this? Not really. But I hope they begin to.
I hope they choose to listen differently.
A Voice Worth Hearing
Speech diversity is part of human diversity.
Every voice, no matter how it flows, has the right to take up space.
If you speak differently, your voice still belongs in every room. Not despite how it sounds, but because it’s yours.
Let’s stop chasing fluency and start embracing authenticity.
We’re not broken. We’re beautifully different. And the world needs to hear us.
Written by Onyedikachi
Photo by Count Chris on Unsplash
