20-04-2025
Without DEI measures, talent goes to waste. Take it from someone with a stutter
From columnist Issac Bailey: Colleges and universities have struggled to explain just what diversity, equity and inclusion mean in real life and in practical terms. That has made way for a distorted view of that principle and the programs associated with it. This package of essays is an attempt to correct the record, with students and faculty members describing what it has meant in their personal and professional lives.
I had a strange request. I asked Stephanie Glaser in the Davidson College relations office to have Meghan Trainor's 'I Love Me' cued up for my 2016 convocation speech. It was one of the pop singer's fast-paced songs, most suited for dance clubs. It didn't quite match the environment where I was asked to say something important to seniors and faculty members.
I would be speaking in the Duke Family Performance Hall at Davidson College where staid speeches are expected, speaker standing behind a podium in front of a microphone.
I requested something else strange, a whiteboard and black marker.
My requests weren't finished. I wanted her to pass out small slits of white paper upon which I had typed seemingly-strange instructions, such as blinking your eyes, tapping on the side of your head or swaying back and forth between each syllable as faculty and students spoke to each other during a verbal assignment I wanted each audience member to participate in.
She said yes to each of the requests.
She may not have known it, but Glaser was adhering to one of the basic principles of diversity, equity and inclusion. At its best, 'DEI' tries to ensure long-standing traditions and structures don't unnecessarily or unfairly exclude qualified people, even unintentionally, from being included in events, programs and hiring processes.
I can deliver public speeches. Some say I'm pretty good. But I can't deliver them like most others. Because I speak with a stutter, been speaking that way as long as I can remember. I'm at my best when I have options.
Roaming on stage from side to side allows me to get into a physical rhythm that translates into more fluent speech. I'm better with a clip-on microphone than a handheld microphone — though holding a marker in my left hand while speaking helps. I cannot fully explain why.
I know why I'm better at speaking from notes than a prepared, written speech. Being able to word substitute on the fly makes it easier to get around a stuttering block. Having to adhere to the pattern of a prepared speech on a page robs me of that flexibility.
Still, some days my stutter feels nearly impossible to corral, and others it is barely noticeable. That was the purpose of the assignments I gave the audience that day, so they could glimpse into my world as I spoke about difference becoming disability and why.
They got it. I think.
I used Trainor's song as the backdrop of another lesson. They had to dance while balancing on their toes. It was a reminder of everyday miracles we ignore or don't even notice. Not long before that speech, an illness had weakened me so I wasn't strong enough to stand on the balls of my feet, an ability I had taken for granted my entire life. Because I had always been able to stand on the balls of my feet, I didn't give it a second thought and came to believe that's just the way things were supposed to be.
I wanted the audience to fully get the lesson and knew words alone wouldn't do the trick, and I wanted them to get that even those of us in the 'differently-abled' camp sometimes miss the everyday blessings and miracles in our lives.
But that day would not have been possible had Glaser decided my requests weren't traditional enough, didn't fit the mold.
Despite what you may have heard from politicians trying to scare up votes, that's the heart of diversity, equity and inclusion. It's not about getting rid of, ridiculing or hating tradition. It's helping more people understand that though tradition is often the best way to do things or identify greatness, that isn't always true.
Think of LeBron James and Steph Curry. Traditional metrics would have recognized James' potential, with his ideal size, strength and ability to jump out of the gym, but not Curry's, with his baby face and skinny arms and legs. Diversity, equity and inclusion is an attempt to identify them both.
That's true of basketball — and people simply trying to speak to be heard.
Issac Bailey is a McClatchy opinion writer in North Carolina and South Carolina.
