Because I’ve seen some “jokes” going around re: Biden and stuttering, let me be clear:

If you make a stuttering joke around me, you immediately go on an outer layer of trust.

Years ago, at a conference, a writer said she gave her MC a stutter because it was “interesting.” (1/7)

I still regret that I didn’t stand up during the Q&A and tell her, as someone who stutters, there was very little about it that made me interesting and a lot that made my life hard.

A stutter can’t be cured. No one knows for certain how or why people have one. (2/7)

A stutter can only be managed. A stutter can be overt or covert.

It’s one of the reasons I can’t listen back to myself. Because people will say I didn’t stutter—but I can hear the stumbles, tiny as they are. I can hear the pauses, the breathing regulation, the tricks. (3/7)

It’s one of the reasons I hate reading aloud, though I do it because if I don’t, it gets harder. I don’t do it well. I can read aloud to myself in an empty flat—and I will STILL stutter. There’s no easiness to reading aloud, as I’m waiting for the first stumble. (4/7)

I hate the sound of my own voice. Because I’m so focused on breathing, my voice never sounds smooth when I’m doing public speaking. It’s usually at a pitch I despise.

A stutter does not make someone “interesting.”

It can rob them of confidence. Opportunities. (5/7)

It can lead to poor first impressions. A stutter is intrinsically linked to “didn’t prepare well enough” or “lacks confidence”, even when people know better.

A stutter cannot be cured.

It’s almost impossible for people who don’t have one to truly understand. (6/7)

It frays at the basic level of clear communication. Being able to say something and for people to understand. To not have them finish your sentence or word for you.

On a bad day, because of the H, I can’t say my name in Starbucks.

A stutter can’t be cured.

Don’t mock it. (7/7)