Stammering is the art of your voice

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Colin

US-based Colin Gould tells us about seeing art as therapy and how the artistic community has helped him embrace stammering.

My name is Colin and I'm a creative director based in my hometown of Boston, Massachusetts. Since as far back as I can remember, I've had a stammer. I can't imagine my world without it — it's like breathing. What would life be like without my lungs? Some people even say that if it disappeared it would feel like a piece of me was missing. It's part of who I am. It's my voice.

Asking someone out and getting stuck on "…ggggo out with me." 

Raising your hand in class and totally blocking when you know the answer. 

Ordering the wrong meal because the block hit on the one you actually wanted. 

I can't tell you how many iced coffees I've ordered because the word 'Americano' won't come out. 

I grew up shy because of my voice, unsure of when, or how, to speak up... But it also put me on a path I couldn't see at the time.

As and Cs can be tough. Introducing myself? Brutal. I've had partners order for me at restaurants just to avoid the block. Those prompted moments; introductions, asking for things. They can feel impossible.

For me, it can suck. There's no better way to put it. I share this to give a glimpse into what many don't see.

Sharing joy

I grew up shy because of my voice, unsure of when, or how, to speak up. It was stressful, hard and embarrassing. But it also put me on a path I couldn't see at the time.

As a kid, I didn't know what I wanted to be. You hear about dream jobs, like an astronaut, doctor or actor and think, "Those people have to talk". I loved comic books. And if you think about it, every superhero starts with something that holds them back: Daredevil can't see. The Thing is trapped in a body he didn't choose. Doctor Strange loses the use of his hands.

So I made my stammer my superpower.

If I couldn't say it, I'd show it. I'd create. Drawing, painting, designing — this became my voice. I was going to make you hear me by showing you what I could see. In high school, I'd skip other classes to stay in the art room. I carried a sketchbook everywhere. I started to understand this was like therapy for me.

When I'm talking about something I love, I stop caring how it comes out

That path opened doors I never imagined. I still had to present work, pitch ideas and speak in rooms full of strangers. But when I'm talking about something I love, I stop caring how it comes out. Because I'm sharing joy. Design. Creativity. The work of other artists. In that world, my world, people are used to being a little different. There's room for it.

I fell in love with being an artist. I think most people around me would describe me as one. Forget being an astronaut… this is my dream come true. And none of it would've happened without my stammer.

Not a flaw

I worked hard in school. I pushed myself. I built the skills I have now. I've created for one of the best brands in the world, and I'm on the edge of a career moment that's truly life-changing. I don't say that to brag — I say it because I didn't always show myself kindness. Like a lot of artists, I wanted to perfect things. And this was the one thing I couldn't 'fix'.

Lately, I've made it a point to talk about it more. That's what brought me here: to speak about my stammer, openly and without shame. I have co-workers and friends who stammer, and that brings comfort. This isn't a flaw. It's a highlight.

No matter how it comes out, your voice is exquisite. It's special. It's yours.

And it is, without question, the art of your voice.

Never be ashamed of it.

Are you involved with art either as a hobby, or professionally? Join the STAMMA Arts Network. There you can connect with others who stammer in the Arts.

Read more Your Voice articles.

Would you like to write something? Share your journey with stammering or tell us about a project you're working on. See Submit Something For The Site or email editor@stamma.org