Me and My Dragon


If you follow the tech world, or if you happen to be a huge Microsoft fan, you may have seen that on April 12, Microsoft paid $16 billion to acquire Nuance Communications, the developer behind speech-to-text stalwart Dragon NaturallySpeaking. Most of the mainstream coverage focused on the impact the acquisition will have on artificial intelligence. But as someone who grew up with NaturallySpeaking and its less-heralded and less-effective sibling, Dragon Dictate, the sale (and the astronomical price) sparked a moment of reflection.

My first introduction to Dragon came in a rarely-used room offset from the main gym where I rehabbed. My parents had urged my therapists to show me how I’d still be able to use a computer, despite not having any arm function and being on a vent at the time.

While I’m sure this conversation is very different 23 years later, thanks to tech advances and the omnipresence of phones and computers, the therapists’ reluctance and lack of enthusiasm for demonstrating my speech-to-text options suggested that my parents’ request was not common back then. The room where they kept the unit’s one computer that ran Dragon Dictate reaffirmed that idea. Surrounded by boxes and empty white walls, the room gave no sense I was using some of the most expensive, cutting-edge speech recognition software on the market.

Despite a somewhat clunky and slow interface, controlling a computer solely by voice gave me hope I’d be able to continue my education, find meaningful work and live a fulfilling, productive life. I remember being so excited to have Dictate on my own computer when, months later, I finally got home for good. I opened the giant box it came in, installed all the CDs and read the painstakingly dull sample texts to create my voice file … and then I didn’t use it.

Early on in my rehab, someone showed me a video of a quad explaining how she could type just as fast as most nondisabled people with her typing aids. While I’m not sure I truly believed it possible, I vowed that someday I’d be just like her. Once I got off the vent and got some arm function back, I got to banging out all my work with my sticks.

I ignored the fact that Dragon allowed me to dictate at speeds that even the fastest nondisabled typist would envy. Sure, a cumbersome mic and some not-so-brilliant features in the actual software provided easy excuses to avoid Dictate, and later NaturallySpeaking, but my main reason for staying away was simple: In my mind, the less assistance I needed, the closer to “normal” I was.

A few years ago, I revisited Dragon and realized my mistake. While the software couldn’t boost my navigation speeds — mouse grids be damned — the dictation had grown so efficient and fast that I felt like an idiot for not using it. It took me a while to find the right balance of sticks and software, but once I did, my productivity immediately increased.

Thinking back on all the deadlines I struggled to make and how many hours I could have saved if I hadn’t let my pride hold me back can be a little depressing. Instead, I use my experience with Dragon as a reminder to not be held back by outdated ableist ideas. Inevitably there will be another potentially life-changing innovation, and there’s a good chance adopting it will go against some long-held societal conventions, but next time I’ll be more ready to figure out what it really means for me.


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