Finding My Voice (Summer 1996)
By Larry Sailor

 

More and more, I consider myself a fortunate person because, after so many years of not having a "voice," I'm discovering and rediscovering that I can speak out and people do listen to what I have to say.

 

Like most stutterers, I went to extreme lengths to avoid having to talk. For example, I remember in grammar school, when the teacher asked a question to the class in general, I would sometimes try to make a roaring sound in my ears so I couldn't hear what was being asked. I did this because if I heard the question and I knew the answer to it, it was just so hard to resist raising my hand. I also remember many occasions when a teacher called on me to give an answer, and I'd lie and say, "I don't know," when, in fact, I knew not only the answer to the question but the entire background of the subject being discussed. Despite these subterfuges, my teachers and classmates must have realized what I was doing because I was never treated like a "dummy." I guess, because I always scored high on written tests, they could tell that I was getting the materials. What they didn't realize was how miserable I was because of having to stifle my verbal self.

 

At the same time, I was beginning to realize that I was different from my classmates in another way--I was a queer! In my school in rural Missouri, there was a boy who was rumored to be queer and he was picked on unmercifully by everyone. Seeing what happened to him, I was always very careful not to give any indication that I, too, might be queer. I'm ashamed to admit that I even participated in some of the gang activities to humiliate the "queer boy," so as to deflect any suspicions away from me. I've often wondered what happened to that boy and whether he was actually gay. I hope he has recovered from our terrorization.

 

These attitudes toward homosexuality totally permeated the culture in which I was reared. My parents were very active in a fundamentalist Christian church that considered "man lying with man" to be an abomination before God. So I felt I had no choice but to deny my true self throughout childhood, adolescence and early adulthood. To preserve my "front," I courted and married a very nice young lady and stayed in this marriage for more than 20 years. During this time, my wife was my "voice," speaking for me in most every social situation and enabling me to hide my stuttering from most people. About 10 years ago, my marriage ended for several reasons that were painful at the time but have proven to be beneficial for both of us and for my son as well.

 

With the marriage ended, the reasons for denying my gayness and this means for avoiding my stuttering were gone. As scary as this situation was, I had been handed an opportunity to begin living honestly and openly. That's where two of my all-time heroes, Elizabeth Kapstein and Barry Yeoman, entered the picture. I met Liz and Barry at one of the initial Passing Twice workshops at the Washington, D.C., NSP conference several years ago and, building on their strength and support, I knew the rest of my life would be better. The friends I have made through the Passing Twice family are very important to me and I hope to be able to give as much to you as you have shared with me. Together, we can become stronger and happier individuals that we'd ever hoped. I love all of you.

 

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