Growing up in Nigeria, I was a very chatty child. But everything changed before the age of 10 when I became aware of my speech. I began to stutter a lot, which made me increasingly reserved because every time I spoke, my classmates would laugh. My parents never really addressed it—perhaps they thought it was something I’d outgrow.
Moving to Canada as a teenager only amplified my lack of fluency. As a student, I had to give presentations as part of the curriculum, which made me incredibly nervous. The fear of public speaking, combined with being someone who stutters, prevented me from confidently completing speeches. I was always embarrassed.
After graduation, I consciously avoided public speaking as much as possible. But once I entered the workforce, it became clear that this was something I couldn’t avoid for the rest of my life. As I got older, I started making a real effort to be comfortable with my speech and to stop striving for perfection—whatever that means. This hasn’t been easy. Growing up, I was so ashamed of my stutter that I never allowed myself to speak freely. But now, I let it flow naturally, take my time, and accept that this is who I am.
A turning point for me came when I discovered that National Stuttering Awareness Day falls on the same day as my birthday. I’m not sure why, but this coincidence brought me a sense of comfort and acceptance. It gave me the strength to stop being so hard on myself. This discovery led me to search for support groups, which is how I found out about the Canadian Stuttering Association. Through this organization, I’ve met people who stutter, and I’ve subconsciously gained the reassurance that I can reach my potential regardless of how I speak.
I’m learning to let go of the goal of being a perfectly fluent speaker, especially when I have to give presentations at work or speak in front of large groups. I’m still learning to accept my speech, but I’m thankful that I no longer carry the burden of trying to be perfect.