Nathan's Essay
I put my hand inside my mouth to prop it open and try to get the words out. My words were stuck. At the age of two, I started stuttering. My mom, concerned that stuttering would become a lifelong speech impediment, read dozens upon dozens of books, met with speech pathologists, and researched tirelessly about the issue.
My mother learned that speaking is one of the best ways to overcome stuttering. She encouraged me to tell her stories about my day. As the years passed, my confidence grew, and I figured out ways to get those words out. Today, there are still words I pronounce differently. I pronounce the word “water” with a subtle difference in the “t” that is unique from the expected pronunciation. There are many words like water—like “fifty,” which is always lost in translation as fifteen.
While the episodes of my stuttering began to improve by the time I was a teenager, I still struggled with enunciation issues, particularly with the letter “s.” In my first job as a waiter, customers would laugh as I tripped over words while reciting their orders. I walked away, embarrassed. These enunciation issues returned when I was nervous or upset. I froze when teachers would cold call me during class. Being put on the spot made me afraid of messing up; it made me believe I couldn’t escape my stutter. Now, I realize I simply needed time to let my words come naturally.
Speaking. Sharing my opinion. These things matter to me because I know what it means to lose my voice. My message matters more than simply how I say things. If I only focus on how I risk hiding behind a keyboard instead of voicing my opinion confidently and without fear of stumbling over my words.
With this courage to speak, I can’t help but think of the voices of oppressed groups whose personalities have been overshadowed. Having a stutter has shed light on the value of speaking up. Like how my mom persisted in finding a solution for my stuttering, I won’t stop until I can argue for just laws. I dream of becoming a lawyer, advocating for disability rights and fair government policies. Working at The Chandra Law Firm this summer, a plaintiff civil rights firm in Cleveland, Ohio, I interviewed prospective clients throughout Ohio and nationwide. I heard stories of discrimination and injustice. And I played a part in remedies for these injustices.
During interviews, I’d ask pointed questions about cases to ensure I had the best information that would help determine whether our firm could take on their case. Each day, I’d spend hours thoroughly writing meeting notes to give prospective clients the best leg up. These stories were human. The hardest part of my job was knowing that the firm I worked for might be unable to help them all. The silver lining was that many of them were helped, and I got to play a part in alleviating the suffering that many are subject to.
I also developed many crucial skills. I produced media releases about ongoing cases. Our firm once dealt with a firefighter who experienced continual sexual abuse by a fire chief. When the court filed a motion for injunctive relief, I researched statutes and drafted an article about the motion and its implications on the case. It was exhilarating. Perfect grammar was an expectation at the firm. Comma splices and wordy sentences made our work inefficient. With every new assignment, I was careful to use language thoughtfully. I was also constantly asking for feedback. As soon as I drafted a media release or legal analysis, I’d circulate it for review until it read seamlessly. Part of asking for feedback from paralegals and other attorneys also required communication; I made it clear to everyone that I was there to learn from them and sharpen my ability to write. And I wase to lalso earn from ongoing cases in depositions and mediations.
Negotiation and strategy are crucial in mediation, where one side believes they are due for damages and suffering while the other doesn’t want to pay. This was my first snapshot of the law. In July, I witnessed a deposition for a case where a woman had been defamed over social media. I was awed at how Mr. Chandra, the managing partner, marched out pointed questions like soldiers in a parade. He got the defendant to admit malice in her social media posts, proving defamation and turning the case in our client’s favor. By the end of the deposition, I could see justice served.
At the end of the summer, Mr. Chandra gave me an assignment to draft a civil complaint against companies sending our firm unsolicited faxes; our firm could sue them for $1,500 for not offering an opt-out option on faxes, violating the Telephone Consumer Protection Act. I applied my knowledge of related statutes to my draft, then met with several law clerks to review what I’d produced. At this point, not only had my writing drastically improved, but I’d produced a workable civil complaint that would be later used in court. I was getting involved in experiences typically reserved for seasoned law students. Sure, I ce learned about what it’s like to be a civil rights lawyer through research, television, and books, but this was different. I was amid massively important cases. I was helping our firm give oppressed people what they were due.
My experiences at The Chandra Law Firm made me realize I want to pursue a career where I can verbalize my opinions and speak up for others. I see it as giving voices back to those who lost it in injustice. After completing law school, I envision myself in the courtroom advocating for accommodations and recognizing those struggling with a stutter. Individuals with disabilities, particularly those from already marginalized communities, continue to experience significant discrimination; access to healthcare, education, employment, and public spaces is reduced. People of color with disabilities face challenges to voting. For example, the Legal
Defense Fund is currently challenging a Texas law, S.B. 1, that restricts access to voting, making it harder for Texans to vote, particularly Black and Latinx voters and voters with disabilities. I know what it feels like to be powerless. One of the most frustrating parts of having a stutter is the inability to get my thoughts out clearly. People living with injustice feel silenced. They lack a voice. These are the people I want to advocate for. By creating safe spaces through concrete legal objections, I’ll improve the material conditions of countless people with disabilities like my own. Just as I was supported and helped to gain my voice, I want to help those still struggling to find theirs.
