These are the shared stories of girls, women, and people of all genders from various countries and backgrounds. As these compiled experiences demonstrate, the issues of sexual bullying and slut shaming have affected and continue to affect many of our lives in deep, often dangerous ways.
Please use these stories to expand your understanding of this widespread problem, and share this page with others who could benefit from this insight.
We hope you'll consider becoming a part of The UnSlut Project by contributing your own experience. Just click on "Share Your Story" to get started.
I am from India. A country which is bound by certain restrictions which are considered a part of our culture. We need to think twice before falling in love with someone, be it in high school or after graduation. Arranged marriages are a common norm here, wherein the parents decide the spouse of their son or daughter. Although this norm is changing with time, as the parents are becoming more open to children finding their own partners, the concept of 'dating' someone is a HUGE deal here. I feel people don't really get the meaning of the word 'slut'. It is a curse which you can just give a girl. There was a girl in my school and rumour had it that she had dated about five guys, she was labled a 'slut'. She never made out or slept with anyone. But yet, she was 'the slut'. No one talked to her and she was deserted for no fault of hers. N one knew or even gave a thought to her side of the story.
Why do people take this word so lightly. Calling girls 'slut' and 'prostitute'?!
The fact is that NO girl chooses to be paid to have sex. They have to do it to earn their daily bread. It is their profession. We need to respect this fact and not lable girls such. We need to bring changes in our attitudes towards girls. Unless we know their story we HAVE NO RIGHT to judge them. I strongly resent this.
They even tried to get me to kill myself by sending me nasty messages on Facebook and asking me if I would please, ever so kindly go kill myself because nobody wants a whore around to ruin people's lives.
I'm only 16 now, and I still have a ton to learn about life, but I think I've learned all that there is to learn about sexual harassment. So far, I've grown up in a broken household. My father came to the table with a child that he had already had at 16. My parents divorced when I was three, six months after having my little brother, and cannot for the life of them get along. Through me, they would try to regain power over one another. I was the victim of my parents' divorce. Now, I know, they both thought they were doing the right thing. Mother protected me from father and father protected me from mother, but that doesn't justify your actions. My mother met a man who ended up being a terrible alcoholic. My youngest brother was a product of that disaster of a relationship. My father however, remarried. And then divorced. And recently remarried again. I have no problem with my new stepmother. It's just... I don't... know her. She kind of showed up one day. Growing up so far, I've been pretty artsy. And when I wanted the sketch book and art kit set, my brother got it for his birthday. When I told everyone I was going to grow up to go to Julliard School of Acting, my mother told me it wasn't enough. I never ended up taking the classes I wanted to. My older brother has never been around much. When he was 17, and I was 9, I met his girlfriend. She was naked in his bed. It didn't really bother me much. On Christmas of my 7th grade year, I ended up going out with a boy who, for all intents and purposes, will be named Leo. He was really nice to me, and I lied to my mother about where I was going to be so that I could go to his house and just make out. But he really wanted more. There were several occasions where he would try to rip my shirt off, or touch my boobs or get into my pants. Mind you, I was 11 years old. I was scared out of my mind. He would show up at my house and take me back to his, or tie me to his bed and try to rape me. Thank god he never did, but he hurt me pretty bad. When I would refuse to put out, he would slap me. Or grab me so hard it would leave hand prints, pull my hair, and he had even broken several bones in my fingers and fractured my ribs. I thought that was what men expected. Sex. And only sex. I wish someone had told me differently. I think it was because of him that I ended up self harming and doing a lot of drugs. No fear, I have gotten help for it. (However, anyone experiencing feelings of depression or thoughts of suicide or self harm, please contact a suicide hotline or tell a trusted adult and get help.) When I finally got the guts to tell him to "fuck off" a year and a half of this torture later, I had already cheated on him several times. And I never held a solid relationship after that. I had many "hook ups," but never a boyfriend. This got me the name "slut." Or "whore." Everyone had their theory, that I paid for it. That they paid for me. And so on. Just after I broke up with him, I started basically living with another guy at 12 years old, who started doing the same thing that Leo did to me. I don't know why I never told anybody. By the time it was too late to do anything about it, I told a school guidance counselor. I went under intensive therapy for 3 years, and I'm still going through some flashback moments. My very best friend had broken up with his girlfriend at the end of ninth grade. And two days later, he kissed me. I felt really bad because his now ex-girlfriend was my best friend, too. So I told her and she was cool with it. She even told me to go out with him. I did, but I wanted her to know that it if she wanted me to break up with him, I would. A week later every single friend that I might've once had or would've had, disappeared. She told them lies about me. I tried really hard to make it up to them, whatever I had done wrong. But they wouldn't buy anything I tried to say. They even tried to get me to kill myself by sending me nasty messages on Facebook and asking me if I would please, ever so kindly go kill myself because nobody wants a whore around to ruin people's lives. I ended up going to intensive therapy for that, too. Me and the girl have since "made up," but I don't think that we could ever be the same. I've not had a friend in almost two years, and I'm still dating her ex-boyfriend. He knows the story and is very understanding when it comes to my fear of guys and anger in general. I still flinch when someone moves too fast, and it's kind of upsetting. I think it shaped me to be the person that I am today. However horrible the experience, I've made it through and am still working through it. I think I may be for the rest of my life. I just wanted to share my story for the younger girls out there.
Boys started to come up to her and touch her boobs and butt, one even touched her crotch. People started to try and pull her clothes off, and soon all of the popular people were crowded around Mia.
Slut-shaming is wrong. Wrong. And being harassed or made to feel uncomfortable about being a woman, about being yourself, is wrong. When immature little boys at my school do it, I get angry. I tell them that, too. My story starts with a girl who is in fact my best friend (let's call her Mia) and she is a beautiful, down to earth person. She is loved by everyone, is popular, and is smart, and gets good grades. One day there was this party and Mia went to it (Mia and I weren't friends until a bit later. I am only in eighth grade, and she is too. And this was two years ago. She arrived and was greeted by her friends and stuff. Immediately, word got out that Mia had arrived, and that wow, her boobs looked incredibly large in that tank top. She laughed and shrugged it off. It got worse. Boys started to come up to her and touch her boobs and butt, one even touched her crotch. People started to try and pull her clothes off, and soon all of the popular people were crowded around Mia. I was at this party and I tried to stop it, but I am ashamed to say, I was called a bitch by someone and decided to go home. Mia was harrased further and eventually ran out of the house in her bra, crying. On the next Monday, Mia was told that her best friend at the time had put all of the popular boys up to it because apparently, Mia had tried to have sex with her boyfriend. Of course this wasn't true. Mia was branded a slut and a whore that apparently slept with 2 guys. She was harassed for having larger boobs than the other girls, having large thighs, butt, etc. Mia soldiered on, head held high through this mess and didn't show anyone that it bothered her. She ditched those girls and came to my group and is now the happiest girl I know. She told her Mum and the principal, and those children were suspended. It really helped. If you are slut-shamed don't be afraid to tell someone. Anyone. Because you are not alone, and people are always there for you no matter what.
In the 4th grade, this girl said to someone that I was "a lesbian and tried to rape her." I got so much hate after that. I tried to commit suicide.
"Slut": a four letter word with such meaning. A four letter word that has made people commit suicide. A four letter word used as a label for girls with an open sexual life, or just a girl who nodded at a boy who wore something "sexual" once. I'm Emma, and this is my story. It started in kindergarten. One of the older boys, by at least 7 years, molested me. At first, I didn't know what was going on, but then, it hurt. This went on till 2nd grade. He moved away. In the second grade, I was always the chubby kid. I was the "teacher's pet". One day a 5th grader pushed me down and called me fat and worthless. I started cutting, and it just made things worse. In the 4th grade, this girl said to someone that I was "a lesbian and tried to rape her." I mean, seriously?! I got so much hate after that. I tried to commit suicide. But after I failed, things got much better. I changed schools, got new friends, and even a boyfriend! I want to let you know that it does get better! Please do not kill yourself. You are beautiful! - Emma
My four-year-old cousin thought that "acting like a boy" would make her a better person in everybody's eyes! Right? Imagine her disappointment and hurt when her family started saying that what she did brought shame to the family name.
I've read many stories about people that have been taught from a parental figure about equality between genders/races/equalities/religions etc. from the learner's point of view, but I've never stumbled upon a story where it was from the adult or parental figure's point of view. And mine kind of is. The point is, both parties learn something new. I learnt something new about gender equality and feminism, because even though I always prided myself for being a feminist, I understood that even if I though I knew what feminism was... I really didn't. It all started with my four-year-old cousin who started kindergarten this year. I guess you could say she looked up to me - still does - and she always sought advice from me. Akrivi, Viv for short, was always a bit tomboyish, as society would put it. She preferred footy (soccer) to dolls. Action figures to clothes. She initially didn't like any of these, but grew to love them because she's 100% Greek and Greeks aren't only known for their hospitality, they're known for their prejudices too, which means: Most Greek families want boys, not girls, and actually in villages they will call the boy "the kid" and the girl, well... "the girl." When saying you have a kid, it is immediately assumed you have a son, not a daughter, and that is plain awful, especially when you're a female. At the age of thirty, if you haven't been married yet, you'll "stay on the shelf." The phrase is extremely degrading for the female because it does not only insult her relationship skills, but also it says that the sole purpose of a woman on planet Earth is reproduction. No. Just no. So you see, Viv thought that "acting like a boy" would make her a better person in everybody's eyes! Right? Imagine her disappointment and hurt when her family started saying that what she did brought shame to the family name. It broke her little heart and she was only two years old. However, since then I became her wingman and advised her in every aspect of her life. Sometimes, I did it wrongly and I feel bad for those times. One of the many wrong pieces of advice I gave her was the day before I took her to the first day to school. It was on my road to school, so there was no problem in me taking her, due to both of our parents having to go really early to work. I had bent down so we were on eye level and told her, "Akrivi, you really like footy right?" She bobbed her head, brunette curls bouncing up and down. "Now that you're older, you're going to school. If you play with the other kids they'll make fun of you." I beat myself over that because I just wanted to protect her from all the bullies by doing something really wrong, and I understood that when I went to take her home the day after and saw her longingly staring at some children who played footy. I understood that no matter what, I couldn't take it away from her. So, when we arrived home I told her that she could play footy again. "Why?" she had asked, "Won't the other kids make fun of me anymore?" "Some will, but you know what? They push at you, you push back harder." Through this Akrivi learnt that she shouldn't base her actions on stereotypical and prejudicial beliefs. But, I learnt something important, too. Do what you love no matter what people say. "Akrivi" means precious. And she is, precious I mean. She's truly and irrevocably precious. - Mennie Jay
I was three years old. This has been my life ever since. Always labeled a slut, undesirable, and less than human.
To the author: If you haven't yet found help, please use these resources at WomensLaw.org. Most cities have programs to help survivors of sexual exploitation lead healthy, happy lives - there is help for you and you will make it through this.
The first time I heard the word "slut" I thought it was good, because the man said to my mother, "She is a beautiful little slut." But soon I was to learn that this is not good to be. My horror starts here. I had always wondered where it was my sister would go when this man who smelled like cigar came and put her in his car and brought her back with tears that had dried onto her cheeks. She would always tell me to hide when the car would come up the dirt path. On March 11, 1973 I found out where she went and what had cause her tears. On this day, two cars came. One for my sister and one for me. I remember this man got out of the car and went to my mother. She gave him something and then they both looked at me. I turned away to watch the car that held my sister drive back down the path. No words were said when the man walked towards me and took my hand. I looked at the place that my mother once stood, but she was gone. We walked to the car. He picked me up opened the door and put me inside the car. When he got inside the car he looked at me in the mirror and smiled at me then said, "Ah, such a pretty little slut." When the car stopped, the man got out and closed the door. He then came and opened my door, held out his hand for me to take and helped me out of the car. We walked to a building with a door. I saw the car that once held my sister parked close to the one I just got out of. Inside this building a man walked up to us and handed the man a paper. He wrote something on it and I was handed off to the new man. He took me down a long hallway with doors on both sides, all the way down. We stopped at one of the doors and went inside. There was a mat on the floor, a toilet, a sink, and a bathtub. I was three years old. This has been my life ever since. Always labeled a slut, undesirable, and less than human. Four months ago, I escaped his torture and began to try and learn how to live free from abuse. But it is a life I am unfamiliar with. A life that is lonely because I had no friends and a life full of confusion and fear. If there is help for me out there somewhere, it has not found me yet. - Amanii
I'm just glad I stopped before it got too out of hand, because some girls weren't as lucky as me.
Hi. My name is Kyra and I'm 15 years old. My story starts when I was in the 6th grade. (I'm changing the names of all the kids in this story.) I had just started dating my first boyfriend, Joe. You see, the only reason Joe liked me was because he saw a video of me singing online and he also thought I was pretty. And of course me being 11 at the time, having a boyfriend sounded like a dream come true to me. I was infatuated with the idea of him liking me. So, when he asked me out I accepted. (Also, Joe was extremely popular and I was not. So there are plenty of reasons why he was appealing to me.) We were at a school dance and all of his popular friends were joking around with me. To them I was like an alien. I had no idea of their way of life. The kids kept shouting things like "Hold hands!" Or "Hug! Hug!" And of course these things were harmless, until someone shouted "Kiss him!" Now this was my first kiss, so I was extremely nervous. But as for Joe, he had a bit of a reputation that I did not know about at the time. So, thanks to a little friend called peer pressure, I did. And little did I know I would regret it more than I could imagine. People kept shouting at me, so I wound up kissing him multiple times in front of everyone. And the next morning I woke up to pictures and videos of us kissing on the internet. Everyone knew who I was and everyone knew what I was known for. I was 'The Chick That Kissed Joe' or one of the following 'Slut, Whore, Bitch, Hooker' and many more. Not a day went by during the 6th grade that someone brought up what happened that night. The only person I confided in was my older sister. She told me the same thing happened to her in middle school. I found that many girls have been victimized by something similar. I'm just glad I stopped before it got too out of hand, because some girls weren't as lucky as me. But like always, time went on and people started to forget. But I will never forget the valuable lesson I learned that night. I wanted to share my story so we can help girls protect themselves.
Four girls, one of which I considered a good friend, had put a note on my porch that said "your slut daughter is preggo!" My mom asked me if it was true, I broke down and told her, and she walked away from me.
I've known about The UnSlut Project for a couple of years now and only recently decided to share my story. I guess I had to come to terms with it personally before I felt confident enough to let others know about my experiences with slut shaming and bullying. I do want to remain anonymous, though. My reputation in the eighth grade was that I was a pretentious, unlikable girl when really I was just shy and struggling with serious social anxiety and depression. When I got my first "real" boyfriend that year, I started to come out of my shell. While I did have a lot of friends, there was an equal number of girls who just didn't like me for one reason or another. I kept dating this boy on and off throughout the first couple years of high school, and during my sophomore year I got pregnant and my life snowballed. The day I found out I was pregnant, I decided to tell a couple of my friends in confidence about the news. I wasn't prepared to tell my parents yet. I was only sixteen - I could barely understand it myself, let alone know how to tell such devastating news to my mother. I never got the chance to tell her myself. I went to school the next day and rumors started swirling, which I quickly denied. I went to my boyfriend's house after school ended and on the drive home, my mother called me. Four girls, one of which I considered a good friend, had put a note on my porch that said "your slut daughter is preggo!" My mom asked me if it was true, I broke down and told her, and she walked away from me. Our relationship was in shambles for five months, at least until I found out that the baby I decided to keep was a girl. I found out I was pregnant in March of 2008, with only several months left of my sophomore year. That time period was a nightmare. Nearly all of my friends abandoned me because they simply couldn't understand what I was going through and how much I needed their support. The girls who didn't like me were even worse. They screamed "slut!" at me in the hallways, spread rumors that I got pregnant on purpose, and some even 'joked' that they would push me down a flight of stairs. I was the school pariah, the "dumb slut." My boyfriend, who attended a different high school at this point, faced no social repercussions, whereas my little sister was constantly asked what it was like to have a slutty knocked-up sister. The shame and torment I faced was so overwhelming that I completed my junior year via online schooling. Removing myself from the environment was the best decision I could make for myself at the time, allowing me to continue furthering my education while being able to stay home with my daughter, Addison, who was born in November of 2008. I went back to school for senior year and most of the bullying had subsided, but I was still known as "that girl with the baby." In retrospect, I don't regret anything. I made the right decision for me. I am now 22, a single mom, and a full-time student. The years following the birth of my daughter were filled with support from my family and I have made lifelong friends who accept me. But the awful, undeserved torment I received is unforgivable. I still have trouble trusting people and face the same social stigma of being a young mom. I hope that my daughter never has to feel the way I felt when I was a teenager - that having sex (and possibly facing an unplanned pregnancy) makes you a whore. There is no such thing.
The teacher took away the phone and she accidentally sent it to the first 10 recipients in the contact list. By the first lunch, every 6th grader had the sex video on their phone. And by the end of the day every student had it playing on their phone. They made fun of the girl until she left the school.
In 6th grade, I was bullied. I was bullied because I was quiet, nice, my pants and shirt weren't tight enough, and because I wasn't like the other girls. The 7th graders were big and mean and very sexually active. I got into the cheer squad and I was the flyer because I was smaller. The 8th graders were mad. At one point I had to quit because practices ran late. The girls spread a rumor that I quit because I got pregnant. Eventually the rumor died two days later, because some 8th grade girl had sex and her little brother, who is in my grade, video taped them. The video was spread from social studies, when he got caught and the teacher took away the phone and she accidentally sent it to the first 10 recipients in the contact list. By the first lunch, every 6th grader had the sex video on their phone. And by the end of the day every student had it playing on their phone. They made fun of the girl until she left the school. The next year a few of my peers who were in the same grade as me, who were making fun of the girl, got pregnant. Half of the cheer squad got pregnant because they were trying to support their friend and it became a trend. In my 8th grade year, I wasn't in the school anymore, but this girl liked to wear crop tops and revealing clothing. The whole grade made fun of her but she never knew, including her friends. I felt bad for her until she made fun of me and my friends so we joined the group of people that made fun of her and continued the trend. We added the word "whore" to her last name - since it was Harrison, we called her "Whorison". But now there is a new trend, you're a "THOT" if you let him go to second base, or if you have too many boyfriends. I see another victim because there is always going to be another victim, but I feel TERRIBLE for making fun of that girl and giving her that nickname. Even though she doesn't know, it was wrong of me and everyone else and I got my friends to stop. Bottom line, bullying is not cool even if you feel the person deserves it.
He thought I'd be okay watching myself get date raped because I took my clothes off on camera. His response when I screamed at him and left him was that if I had a problem being naked and sexual on camera I shouldn't be a camgirl.
I was a camgirl for several years and I was open about it with my boyfriend. He was supportive of me and my expression of my body, he never acted judgmental or degrading towards me. Camming made me feel strong and sexual and dynamic and I enjoyed it. It was safe, legal, and a good source of income in college. One night my boyfriend invited me to a friend's house for a game night, proceeded to get me very drunk, and ended up sharing me with a number of people at the party. I am still not sure how many people. He video taped it and weeks later decided to show it to me as a surprise. He thought I'd like it because I was a camgirl. He thought I'd be okay watching myself get date raped because I took my clothes off on camera. His response when I screamed at him and left him was that if I had a problem being naked and sexual on camera I shouldn't be a camgirl. I quit camming, I've had impossible trust issues ever since, and what is worse is that his words affected me so deeply that I have never felt like I deserved to try and go to the police about it. I feel like I let other women down by being another woman to keep it as my dirty little secret. Well, I'm writing it now. Camming made me feel strong, like a virile sex goddess completely in control of my own body, with control over who had access to it. I let someone take that from me and it took ten years to get it back. Never be afraid to claim your body. Never be afraid to want sex, any way YOU want sex. It's yours. You belong only to you. And anyone that tries to take it from you, or make you feel guilty for claiming your sexuality, they deserve to feel shame, you deserve to be proud.
I was a duckling who became a duck - a nice looking duck - I’m not going to say a swan, because let’s face it, it was middle school.
Hi my name is Gabby and you inspired me to write this entry. I hesitated before at the thought of writing this, to post it online; I thought it was something I should be embarrassed of but it's the past. Every girl goes through stages we try to figure out who we are and it seems like during that process you come in contact with a lot of negativity. I began to change in middle school. I was going through puberty like other girls at that age, and I lost weight. I was an obese kid and elementary was really hard because of that, but I want to talk about a time where I was labeled a "ho". (In the urban community we don’t so much say "slut" so they called me a "ho".) I was very anti-social in sixth grade, I could fit into a medium, but I still wore my oversized clothes, and I wasn’t into fashion or pretty, girly things. I hung out with guys because they accepted me, and girls didn’t. I dressed like a boy and laughed at their jokes. It was comfortable for a while. Nobody hit on me besides the real perverts that just wanted to be around breasts. In seventh grade, I made female friends. My clothes got more fitted but I still considered myself an ugly duckling. I had that awkward middle school hair - I went to school with cornrows. But my friends thought I was pretty, they followed me, I was the leader. Each day I made a change, not with appearance really, but personality. I made more friends. Here it comes: eighth grade, the year you're more mature, you think you understand yourself; you basically blossom, you have boobs now, you’re trying different styles, boys are interested. I was a duckling who became a duck - a nice looking duck - I’m not going to say a swan, because let’s face it, it was middle school. No more braids, I put on tight clothes and gained superficial confidence. When a guy would ask for my number, I began to think that was what I was worth. The amount of guys that tried to talk to me, if a lot, did that mean I was pretty? My group shrank a little, friends I called my besties decided they didn’t like me as much anymore. To them I had changed, but I just thought I had just gotten prettier and more likable. (Forgive my arrogance - oh my god, I was so conceited, but I really didn’t even like myself. I just knew other people liked how I looked, so I tried to suit them.) The boys around me at school would slap my legs when I wore a short skirt. Grab me, squeeze me, pull at my top and grope me. I always tried defending myself but never realized why it didn't work. They thought I was easy, a "ho", because of my clothes. Oddly I got use to it, and if it was from a guy I knew, I wouldn't say much. My old friends started talking about me, spreading rumors. It hurt a lot because they would smile in my face. My mother hated the way I dressed, and my older sister thought I was having sex because of it. I’d say things like, “When I was fat I couldn’t dream of fitting this, so while I’m skinny I want to wear whatever I can fit.” I never slept with anyone, but my family thought I was looking for trouble. I had my first kiss a year later. Cars would honk their horns, men would stop driving to talk to me. All of that was scary but my mindset was so out of place.
I got a boyfriend. He was sixteen, I had just turned 14, and he was the worst. Leroy would drink and smoke - he actually brought alcohol to school in Arizona bottles. We dated for six months. He followed me to high school but broke up with me because we never even kissed. I didn’t trust him; he used to cheat with older girls. I even almost got into a fight over him, and all he wanted was my virginity. I knew that, but I still liked him so much. He made me laugh, he was easy going and he said the sweetest things, but when I look back I had just wanted a boyfriend to replace my friends who had left me out. I couldn't relate to them so I dated Leroy. He didn't defend me against the other boys; he’d let them feel me up because he didn't want to fight and everything was a joke to him. I must have looked like the dumbest thing. Leroy even had problems with the law. He took another girl to prom. He even asked out my friend when we broke up. I was cyberbullied: the girls who didn't like me wrote things like "look at that ho" on my MySpace pictures - "she became such a ho, always got the boys touching up on her." After the break up I decided I couldn't trust boys. I didn't want to have sex. My mother raised me up thinking sex was bad, sex is for adults, and if I did it she said she would know. I’m now 18, still living with those words. I understood why she told me things like that and I prefer to stay a virgin until I’m officially ready, maybe after marriage or whenever. I dealt with a lot towards the ending of eighth grade.
I tried keeping my weight low, and I ended up with a eating disorder. I was eating under 700 calories a day. That number kept shrinking. I was always dizzy, passing out in the train, I was so afraid to be fat again that I did drastic things. But a beautiful lady named Eva - I’m using her real name - she was my mentor, my friend, my guidance counselor for three years until she moved. She helped me eat again slowly, she worked with me, I’m not sure how she did it. My arms were like sticks but I saw a whale in the mirror, but she helped me. I owe her my life. I didn't even know how bad not eating could be. My mother still doesn't know about anything. I damaged my metabolism and in 11th grade I gained thirty pounds in one year - I’m chubby again, but I accept my body. I’m happier with meat on my bones.(This time I mean it - I’m not fat, I’m just bigger in some places!) I just graduated and I start college in January. Wish me luck. Let's not judge each other; girl power is the best thing in life, besides lasagna.
I carry a bitterness in my heart for the "good guy" who forever affected my education because he saw me as nothing more than a sex toy. Well, I will show him. No matter what he gave me, I will graduate with honors. He does not define me, I do.
I was drugged at a party and sexually assaulted in college. The combination of drugs in my drink resulted in long lasting memory problems and the entire experience increased my anxiety and the frequency of panic attacks. I feel horrible asking my professors for extra help and special accommodations because of what was done to my brain by those drugs I never consented to taking. I feel afraid to ask them for help because I am afraid they will judge me. Everyone seems to blame me for taking a drink I was offered by a guy I thought was nice. Guys always say we judge them all too harshly, that not every guy is a rapist, yet when I do trust a man to give me a drink, he drugs it. And it's still my fault for taking it. Do men really not see the paradox here? I'm supposed to trust every man as a good guy, or at least not believe he is a bad one, yet when I do that and he hurts me, it is still MY fault!? It is infuriating. I carry a bitterness in my heart for the "good guy" who forever affected my education because he saw me as nothing more than a sex toy. Well, I will show him. No matter what he gave me, I will graduate with honors. He does not define me, I do.
Whether someone does or does not have sex, and whoever is or is not their lover, and whenever or how often they do or don't have sex depends entirely on what feels right to that person, and as long as everything is consensual, that should be respected.
I'm aromantic, but I didn't realize that when I was younger because I had never heard the word before. I justified not dating in early high school by saying that I believed myself too young to date, and then later by lying - saying that my parents didn't want me to date. Though it was a lie, it was a reality for a number of fellow females I knew, so it worked pretty well. When I turned 16, I couldn’t get away with lying anymore. I internalized it all, and felt like a failure for not having dated, let alone not having had my first kiss yet. I cried a lot. When I was a few years older, I finally brought myself to have a boyfriend - I had even put it on my list of New Year’s Resolutions, which I now realize as pretty sexist, thinking of a boyfriend like an object to acquire in order to fit in. However, just a month or two before he and I started dating, he had turned down a friend of mine. She stopped being my friend when he and I got together, and started spreading rumors that we were having sex. Most of the people in my life at the time thought it was a horrible and shameful thing to have sex outside of marriage. It hurt that my friend would say that, but I never thought people would believe the rumors. However, most of the kids did believe it, and most of the adults believed it, too. I felt shocked, angry, and shamed. I was made fun of when I didn't have a boyfriend, and made fun of even worse when I had one. I had entered the relationship hoping I would feel romance with time. When I didn't, being aromantic, I felt even worse. I confessed to an adult whom I trusted that I felt that I was being unfair to my boyfriend by being in a relationship when I couldn't feel what he wanted me to feel. That adult wanted me to stay with him anyway, so I did for a while. But I felt worse and worse about it. I even got suicidal. I felt like a failure in every sense, and that I couldn't win or make anyone in my life happy. I stayed alive because I didn’t want to further upset the people I had already upset. I finally ended the relationship, and I felt a bit better. I had hurt his feelings, but at least I wasn’t lying to him anymore. That was all a long time ago, and I am much happier with myself now. I don't think anyone should be slut shamed. Whether someone does or does not have sex, and whoever is or is not their lover, and whenever or how often they do or don't have sex depends entirely on what feels right to that person, and as long as everything is consensual, that should be respected. Thank you so much for The UnSlut Project!
My courage is still gone. I can't even look anyone in the eye in fear they'll judge me for something I can't control. What I'm saying is that if there's a problem, you should attack it right at the start. Don't let it eat away at you like it did to me.
My bullying story isn't much. It never was, and it never will be. I just want people to know that this is a type of bullying, too. My friends and I were never popular. We were the left overs. We weren't the wildflowers, or the bad kids, we just weren't anything. The other kids ignored our existence, unless they needed homework answers or something, which we gladly gave them. We, or at least I, was happy this way. It started in seventh grade with one boy and his friends in particular. I was in math class, and I didn't have too many friends. First, they found out I was left handed. They called me 'God's deformity', and when my friend tried to back me up, they laughed at her. I ignored them. Then, they found out I was half Jewish, and made fun of me for that. My friend told the teacher, and the teacher did absolutely nothing. They started making fun of my two friends as well as me. They called one of my friends fat, and one of my friends (you guessed it) a slut. They called me both. I never had the guts to stand up, but my friends kept telling the math teacher. Each time they told her, the teacher did nothing. I lost all courage. When I rose my hand to speak, I'd stutter and my voice wouldn't come. I'd pretend to be someone I'm not, even around my friends, so they can't make fun of me. If I wore a tight shirt, they called me fat. If I wore a loose shirt, they called me a slut. One of my friends was so destroyed by all of this, she started cutting. At first, I was the only one who noticed because she hid it well. Then, one of the teachers saw and sent her to the guidance counselor. The bullying all stopped for a while, until one day, the guidance counselor called one of the teachers, asking for my friend. The teacher told her, and she asked to take me along. It started up again. They called us "attention whores" and sluts, and every name they could think of. Eventually, after a year of flat out ignoring them, they went back to ignoring us. My courage is still gone. I can't even look anyone in the eye in fear they'll judge me for something I can't control. What I'm saying is that if there's a problem, you should attack it right at the start. Don't let it eat away at you like it did to me. Don't be a coward. The teacher who did nothing was fired when other teacher found out about it. Do something. - Lily
When I was with him everything was great, but when we had sex and one of his friends found out everyone called me a "Slut" or a "Thot" which made me sick to my stomach. Soon I wanted to kill myself but I couldn't do it.
When I was in 8th grade, this girl who I'm calling M, always talked about me behind my back for no reason which I didn't like. I've never done anything to her, to make her hate me, so why did she bully me? In the summer guys always would stare at my body and make sexual comments towards me, which made me feel sick. My body developed at a young age so I had the figure of a petite young adult. Sometimes the guys would smack my butt or just stare at me with a sick smile on their face. Well back to the subject, when I got into high school I was quiet and stayed to myself. But everything changed when I met my now ex-boyfriend who I'm calling A. When I was with him everything was great, but when we had sex and one of his friends found out everyone called me a "Slut" or a "Thot" which made me sick to my stomach. Soon I wanted to kill myself but I couldn't do it. I knew that if I even tried I would feel sick, so instead of cutting I skipped meals a few times a week. I'm still called by them names but I don't care anymore. As long as you know someone loves you then don't let the world break you down. It kinda makes me angry but it doesn't matter. Yes I've cried and told myself that I was fat and that no one would love me but I knew it wasn't true. So to all the people out there just love and trust in yourself cause no one can break you down unless you let them. - Markeshia
I received messages from his friends, and I became so scared that I haven't left the house in over a week.
I was slut shamed a few days ago. I did something with a guy and it ended up coming out a few weeks later. I received messages from his friends, and I became so scared that I haven't left the house in over a week. I was bombarded with messages, and I felt degraded that someone I trusted had told his friends. I felt ashamed. The double standards of society are disgusting, a guy can engage in sexual relations with over 10 women and be respected for it, but women do one thing with a man and feel worthless. I'm not ashamed anymore, I'm not scared of these people. What I do with my private life isn't any of their business, but we need to educate our future generations, and even my own generation (1990's) that slut shaming is not okay and never will be. Degrading and humiliating a woman for doing something she wanted to do is disgusting. If you do something sexual with a girl or boy, it is not your right to brag to your friends about it, its private and that's how it should stay.
She was really shy and really fun to be around, but people would sometimes refer to her as a "slut" just because of the school she had come from! And I admit, at first I was a part of this.
I just wanted to share a quick story about a new girl that came to our school. I won't say her name because of personal privacy but here's what happened. I go to a Christian school. Most people think of Christians as goodie-two-shoes and that we never have fun. Well, part of that is true but just because you're a Christian doesn't mean you never do bad things. We're all human. There was another school up the road from our school. Our school was a private school while that school was public. A girl from the public school transferred to our school. She was really shy and really fun to be around, but people would sometimes refer to her as a "slut" just because of the school she had come from! (And I admit, at first I was a part of this.) She had also had more boyfriends than most do the girls in my grade... And that added up to about 10. (Not a lot of the girls date in my school till grade 10.) In the end, once people got to know her, nobody called her a slut anymore and she became well liked by all. My point that I'm trying I get across with you is that it's wrong to judge someone just because of where they come from, or what they have done. It's mean, totally rude, and it's bullying.
I'm sick of myself. I don't know what caused all of the sexual conversations and perversions, but I could've stopped it, I could've told someone, but I was too scared that I would get told "you wanted it" "slut!" "Your clothing was provocative". It's all my fault my life is like this. I'm only 12, yet I feel so alone.
Note to the author: Since you submitted this account anonymously, I don't have your contact information. Please reach out to a parent or teacher for help immediately. You are NOT alone, and this is NOT your fault. You can overcome it, just like the women who have shared their stories here before you. Judging from your language, I am guessing you're in the UK. Please visit www.samaritans.org and check out the resources available to you. I am always here to talk, as well. Love, Emily
I thought this year would be better, but it's worse. I hardly knew anyone at Secondary school. At first. I would hang out with Rowan usually, since I met her outside of school and we both didn't know many people. Then slowly as the weeks passed, I made lots of friends, true and fake, and introduced them to Rowan. Months later, our roles have reversed. Then the cyber bullying started. Around this point, I lost most of my girl mates, because they thought I was attention-seeking, so I made a lot of guy friends. Girls 2 years older than me would tell me I was attention-seeking, post stuff about me on Facebook, get their friends involved too, and as they were popular and older, I couldn't do anything. Then people I didn't even know told me to go die and that my parents didn't love me, I was fat, ugly, unloved, poor, a slag, a bitch, a hoe, etc. etc. Then my parents found out and reported them to the police, they left me alone afterwards. I started self harming in November because I was different, and because I felt I was being used and that I was a slag. Because in the previous summer holidays, my friends persuaded me into flashing my boobs on camera to strangers on a website. I felt like I a slut.
Then this year, after multiple short relationships with guys I didn't like in that way, I found a guy (Robb) who made me smile, who made me love myself, but it sorrowfully ended. After our on and off relationships, whilst I fancied/dated him, I had a thing for several of his mates. Some of them were dating my best mates. I felt like I was a fake friend and that I was a slut too. Robb told me he loved me and tried persuading me to send him nude pictures of myself and to have sex with him. Because I thought it was love, I said yes. But I didn't send him pictures since I was on my ancient laptop. We had planned to have sex on a camping trip with our two friends who were dating (Declan and Rowan). But since he called me a hoe and fell out with me, sex never happened either. And he obviously told all his friends about our little conversation. Because I had developed faster than most of my mates I was already a C cup, nearly a D cup, whilst most of my friends were B or A. So I obviously became an object of sexual interest to many guys, including older guys. Year 9 guys would message me saying that I had a nice pair, etc.
Then another ex, Joseph, asked me for pictures and sex, persuading (but failing) me with, "I'll be a good shag" & "it'll just be two best friends losing their virginity to each other". Then came the sexual touching. He would run up to me and squeeze my boobs against my will or spank me without my permission, in front of his friends of course, or touch me under the table in our lessons together. My next boyfriend, Ben, asked for a camping trip, exactly what Robb said, and I knew he wanted to coerce me into f*cking him. He told all of his mates I would do things with him and I had already done things with him, but a) I didn't plan on doing things with him & b) I hadn't done ANYTHING with him. I feel as if thanks to Robb, I won't find another guy who likes me for me, not for my boobs or for sex.
Then yesterday this 14 year old guy from my older friend's primary school added me on Snapchat. He thinks I'm 14 when I'm actually 12. He is constantly asking for pictures. I have never met him in my entire life. My other friend (Ann) has told me people will think I'm a slag and I know most of my friends think it too, but they're just too nice to say so. Ever since Robb, I have been having flings with guys, leading them on, especially his mates or guys he didn't like me hanging out with, because he hurt me and despite that, I irrationally miss him. When I walk in the street, constantly guys look at my cleavage, even grown men. And my parents even think I'm a slut, my mom thinks I use Snapchat to send nudes, and she thinks my cleavage is noticeable because I made It noticeable.
I'm starting to question my sexuality, I think I might be bisexual, but my parents are god-fearing people and I hear them talking about homosexuals behind their backs and it isn't nice what their saying and even my friends tell me stuff that is homophobic but they say they don't mind gays. I keep thinking about suicide and self harm. I just want it all to end, the constant judgement, ridicule, slut shaming, etc. I'm also worried about my weight a lot, I've been starving and binging & purging ever since May. For 4-5 months almost, I haven't had proper sleep, I either wake up within a few hours or sleep at 8am. Also school is about to start within a week and I know Robb has set me up as an object of ridicule and slut shaming within his social circles. I'm scared the bullying will return again, just because I had a couple of sexual hollow conversations/promises and because of my multiple short relationships where I just lead the guys on. I feel as I'm a slut because of me leading guys on, and because of the sex/picture chats. I'm sick of myself. I don't know what caused all of the sexual conversations and perversions, but I could've stopped it, I could've told someone, but I was too scared that I would get told "you wanted it" "slut!" "Your clothing was provocative" comments. It's all my fault my life is like this. Sooner or later I'll lose all my friends again, and I will give in to their coercing and persuasion. I'm only 12, yet I feel so alone. -Carol Ann Lynn
Because I wrote erotica, she did not think it would be possible for my ex to rape me.
The psychologist who was involved during the court process I was in assessed me. On the basis that I wrote erotica, she pronounced that I would have been likely to consent to anything. Because I wrote erotica, she did not think it would be possible for my ex to rape me. She used blurbs from my books to illustrate the sort of person she felt me to be - promiscuous, slutty and perverted, and thus felt it was fair to assume that I had said 'yes' to the painful and humiliating things that had been forced on me. That I was doing a job in a paying market never entered the equation, and that authors make stuff up was never considered except in so far that my ex suggested it meant nothing I said could be trusted.
Another example is guys talking about sex, talking about girls who they want to f*ck and stuff like that. If girls even mention something like that, it's the whole "Ewww, desperate slag!" lecture.
I hate the fact that girls get treated differently than guys for stupid reasons; we all came out of the womb and we're all human! I remember this one, well several times, in year 7 I had a lot of guy friends, I would greet them like my girl friends, with a hug. If I had a boyfriend and they saw that, I would get a bollocking and the guy I had hugged/hung around with would get brought up into our arguments. However my boyfriend at the time could surround himself with girls, and ignore me for them, but if I even talked to a guy I've known longer than him, "Oh go run off to so-and-so, you clearly love him!" I mean, the petulance of it all! Another example is guys talking about sex, talking about girls who they want to f*ck and stuff like that. If girls even mention something like that, it's the whole "Ewww, desperate slag!" lecture. Despite our different genders, we are all human, we have emotions, but no, it's alright to make someone feel completely alienated towards everyone just as long as it isn't yourself?
I've never felt so belittled. If the situation was reversed and I was a boy, I would get a pat on the back. Instead, I'm looked down upon as a slut.
This summer, I was super drunk at a party and I had sex with a boy in a bathroom. The only boy I have ever had sex with before was my then boyfriend of 9 months. I'm 18 and single. I kept the incident to myself. The boy didn't. The following weekend I was at a party and my friends began shoving their iPhones in my face telling me to look at Snapchat. A boy at the party took a picture of me when I wasn't looking and in the caption he put my hookup's name and called me his "slam piece". Immediately I looked for this boy who posted this. He disappeared. The surrounding boys saw the picture and were laughing at me. Some of my friends looked at me differently and I felt their shame. I ran to the bathroom and started crying of embarrassment. I've never felt so belittled. If the situation was reversed and I was a boy, I would get a pat on the back. Instead, I'm looked down upon as a slut. Fortunately, I leave for college in 6 days and nobody will know who I am. Sad that this is the reason I'm excited to leave this town.
At the age of eight I was introduced to the world of sex among other things and ever since then I have been labeled a slut.
At the age of eight I was introduced to the world of sex among other things and ever since then I have been labeled a slut. I have been called every single bad name you can think of. Now ten years later I finally lost the name and it feels as though a major weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. People don't realize just how much a label weighs on a person... and over the years they just kept adding on and on and last year I even attempted suicide... more than once. But I came to the realization that it is not what I have done that has gained me the labels, but what people thought of the acts I have done. They judged me before they knew me (sorry using a Shrek quote here). I was lost in a world where people told me over and over what I was, but in actual fact it is not who I am. I rise above those labels and name calling. I rise out of the ashes of my shed tears and broken spirit. I rise high above them, because I know in my heart that I am not a slut. What happened to me does not define who I am. It does not tell me who I am supposed to be. I know of many girls who go through this, being labeled and name called. We don't deserve it and I just appreciate you speaking out about this. I know now that labels do not define me nor do they set my future. I decide that for myself. - Anika
I don't know what to do, and I feel as if I've disappointed my parents and that I'm just a low life slut.
Note to the author: Since you submitted this account anonymously, I don't have your contact information. Please reach out to a parent or teacher for help immediately, regarding your concerns about self-harm. I am always here to talk, as well. Love, Emily
I fancied this guy despite the fact I hardly knew him (let's call him Lee). Okay, so me and Lee dated 3 times within a month. Lee was a charming guy who was decent enough looking. A month after we first went out, he started taking a sexual interest in me, but we weren't together at this point. I thought we loved each other, but months later I notice it was an unrequited love. Lee started asking me for sex and nudes, and he told a lot of his mates. I told my other guy friend (let's call him Jon). I had previously dated Jon twice before Lee. Jon then started taking an interest in me. We dated for a short while and I dumped him. A month later, me and Lee had fallen out. Whilst I was walking alone, Jon greeted me with a hug. He then squeezed my breast, I was disgusted by his behaviour. So I walked off and told him to f*ck off. He didn't. He then ran up behind me and did it again. I repeated my words and started walking faster, he then hit my arse. He did this in front of his friends. A couple days after the incident, he then asked me for sex and pictures. He said, "It'll just be two best friends losing their virginity to each other" - we're both 12. He also said "I'll be a good shag". I then dated another guy (he shall be called Joe). Joe was in the year above me. 2 hours into the relationship, he asked me for sex. I dumped him. At the minute, I am dating one of Lee's best mates (let's call him Declan). I hardly talked to Declan before we got together, unless I was dating Lee. Declan is now asking for sex. My parents found my messages with Lee and they are threatening to send me back to my home country. I really don't want to move, and it isn't my fault these guys took an interest in me. But the boys will say it was all my fault; my clothing provoked them, I've got a nice 'pair', I mentioned sex. I told my closest friend (say she's called Rosie). Rosie said that guys would start calling me a slag/slut/whore/hoe/etc. and maybe girls as well because of my actions. I used to self harm whenever stuff like this happened, and I've been clean for 31 days, but it all seems worthless. I don't know what to do, and I feel as if I've disappointed my parents and that I'm just a low life slut. Sometimes I think it's my fault, because I didn't stop Lee from talking about sex, I didn't stop Jon from touching me under the table during lessons and that started the things with Declan and Joe.
To this day some of them don't talk to me, after all I am just an easy slut, who goes for any guy.
About half a year ago, many people that I used to call friends have stopped being my friends because of an incident with one of my friend's brothers. I thought I loved this boy and he made it seem that he held the same feelings as me. Anyways, late one night I was up messaging the boy and he asked me to send nude images of myself to him. (He claimed that it was just between him and I, and that if I really cared about him I would send them.) Not wanting to make him mad I sent a photo of myself, and instantly regretted doing so; that night I didn't sleep a blink and I knew what a huge mistake I had made. A few weeks later, after I thought that bad decision was behind me, my secret became known to several of my "friends". Some of them were excepting, having made the same mistake themselves, while some of my friends were less than kind towards me. They would now talk behind my back, saying how easy I am, and it is my fault that he used me. To this day some of them don't talk to me, after all I am just an easy slut, who goes for any guy.
Everyday I felt as if I was going insane since that little voice inside my head would call me a whore and a bitch and I had no one to turn to because I was afraid.
Ever since I was young I have been sexually abused by my own cousin. It started years ago when I was merely 10 years old and he was 15. The abuse continued up until my high school years. No one knows about this and I am too ashamed to tell anyone that I trust. I once made the mistake of telling a boyfriend of mine and not long after he found out, he cheated on me. His only excuse was that it was my fault because I was a whore. He was nice enough not to tell everyone at school. However at home I was constantly reminded of what he (my cousin) did to me and him constantly telling me that I "wanted it." I eventually started believing it and hated myself for it. Everyday I felt as if I was going insane since that little voice inside my head would call me a whore and a bitch and I had no one to turn to because I was afraid. So instead I bottled everything up and I began to self harm. Years have passed, I got help and I am 4 years clean and he no longer abuses me but what he did is something that I will have to live with for the rest of my life.
More than once I had thought of myself as a slut, just because I like more than one boy at a time, and sometimes I like girls.
I found this page a while ago and it struck me because I never thought that slut shaming was a thing. In my culture, apparently, it seems normal to have an opinion of the sexuality of every female. More than once I had thought of myself as a slut, just because I like more than one boy at a time, and sometimes I like girls. When I read about this project I learned not to feel guilty about it. Or I thought so. So here is my story. I’m an engineering student so most of the time I’m surrounded by males. Most of them I consider my friends, but sometimes they can have slut shaming attitudes like calling a girl "puta" because she has big breasts or saying that the only way a girl can agree to be in a threesome is if she is a slut. One night after drinking, I told one of them my experiences, and he was surprised that I had so many (according to him), I told everything, everything I haven’t told anyone because of fear of been called a slut. Later that night he tried to kiss me and do other things, I told him that I was too drunk to make a decision, that I didn’t want this to happen but if he kept pushing I wasn’t going to be able to stop him. I remember that he promised me that if I didn’t wanted to, we weren’t going to have sex. However later that night he kissed me again, put his hand in my pants and took me to the bathroom where we had oral. Fortunately I was conscious enough to stop him when I saw that we didn’t have a condom. Now I feel guilty and used at the same time.
I fell asleep and woke up to people kicking me, pissing on me, and T-bagging me. No one had stood up for me. They made me believe that I wasn't worth anything more, that I owed men sex, that I didn't have the right to say no because sluts don't say no.
I was "blessed" with an hour glass figure: big breasts, tiny waist, big hips. This figure started developing when I was very young and by the time I reached seventh grade, I was a C cup. I was 12 years old and men in their 20s were hitting on me because they couldn't see the child's face past the woman's body.
It was seventh grade when the rumours started. A few of the significant ones I remember are of me apparently having a video of me stripping on Youtube, that I got naked on webcam for anyone and strangers, that I wasn't a virgin, and that I stuffed my bra. I had never even kissed a boy. The middle school guidance counselor didn't help either. She was constantly harassing me about my inappropriate clothing. I wore the same clothes as everyone else, from the same stores, but somehow they were inappropriate because I had a form for them to fit. I was constantly sent home, called in to the office, and forced to wear clothes from the lost and found. It was humiliating. When I asked why I got in trouble when other girls wore the exact same shirt, I was told that I just didn't have the body for it. It seemed that the school wouldn't be happy unless I dressed like a boy.
It was eighth grade when things got way worse. During the summer, I had my first boyfriend but he was from a different town (my grandparents lived there and I had spent the summer with him). Everyone either thought that I made him up or that I was doing horrible immoral things with him. Since being a "slut" wasn't the only thing I was bullied for, people found it hard to believe I could get a boyfriend. The second favourite insult of my tormentors was "fat," since they were too young to notice the waist in between the hips and breasts. Someone found my Yahoo! answers account where I had gone to ask questions about my body, and they twisted things around and told everyone that my vagina smelled like cheese. For the rest of the year, people constantly yelled "cheesy odour" at me.
On New Years (still grade 8), my older friend took me to a party. There was drinking involved. One of the guys there took an interest in me and we ended up having sex. I had only ever kissed a boy before so I didn't understand what was happening until about halfway through. The rest of the time I remember sitting there wishing it would be over but not wanting to be rude. My friend went back to school after the break and told the entire high school what had happened. After that, I would have random girls on the street or the bus or the mall yell at me, call me a whore, accuse me of having STDs, etc. I got another boyfriend in March of grade 8. My "best friend" made up countless rumours that were absurd, but everyone believed anyways. She said that she had came over and there were used condoms all over my room, that I had sex with my boyfriend in my front yard, and other things to that effect.
The summer before high school, my older friend got mad at me and turned everyone in the high school against me. I also got black out drunk at a party and when I came to, I was in some guy's backseat bent over puking out the door and he was inside me. After that, I didn't believe that I had the right to say no. I'm not going to lie, there have been countless others and to this day, I'm not sure how many of them would even be considered consensual. They would beg, and I would give in. The times I did say no, they told everyone we had sex anyways. I felt like I owed it to them, to anyone who wanted it. I couldn't say no.
Ninth grade started. My older friend kept trying to fight me. There were countless rumours of STDs, pregnancies, countless sexual partners, and anything that also degraded me (bestiality, threesomes, bondage, cheating). I had friends but they all talked about me behind my back. I think my "friends" were responsible for more rumours than anyone else. One girl kept trying to fight me over rumours. She would chase me through the mall, or come punch me, or harass and accuse me of things. People yelled things at me, harassed me online, threatened me. At one party, two girls tried to beat me up and push me in the bonfire. At another, I fell asleep and woke up to people kicking me, pissing on me, and T-bagging me. No one had stood up for me. There was an older guy (21) who came to the school and fell for me. When I rejected him, he came to the school with a knife, threatening to kill me. The police were called. After that, things got worse. I was a slut and a narc and I was in danger, so we moved to another town.
I went to this school for a year. I got a boyfriend and things were mostly fine. There were a couple rumours: some girls said they saw me giving him head in the parking lot. But for the most part, no one took them seriously. It was always there in the background but it was easy to ignore until my boyfriend and I broke up. Things got bad again, people were threatening me, so I ran again. I actually had to finish the last couple months of my schooling from home because it wasn't safe for me at school.
I started a new school for grade 11. This time no one even tried to get to know me. My first couple weeks were filled with random girls accusing me of trying to steal their boyfriends and trying to fight me. Things calmed down and I was invisible. I literally did not have one single friend. I started dating a boy who was also new and things got bad again. People were yelling names at me, making up rumours, saying I gave my boyfriend a hand job in health class. They carved "health class hand job" onto the doors of the gym, screamed it when I walked past, whenever they saw me in town. It was basically like that all of grade 11 and 12, except this time, I didn't even have fake friends. I was completely isolated. No one had ever even bothered to talk to me unless it was to bully me. The boy I dated ended up being a jerk and contributed to a lot of it. He cheated on me all the time, but somehow I was the whore. It was just unbearable. It was everywhere I went and I had no one to talk to. I was completely alone. I broke two months before I graduated and tried to kill myself. I took a lot of pills and it made me sleep for days and really sick but I lived. After that I realized that I couldn't kill myself because all of those assholes would be the same ones posting on Facebook about how it's such a tragedy and they don't know what went wrong. I couldn't give them that satisfaction.
I graduated high school and thought it was over, but it has followed me. University is filled with my bullies from every school I attended, I can't go to the bar without being harassed, people bully me online, whenever they see me in public. I can't escape it. I'm 20 years old and people are constantly messaging my boyfriend to tell him how bad of a person I am. That's the worst of it. Everybody thinks that I'm the bad person. Countless people bullied me, even more stood by and let it happen. These same people go on Facebook crusades about how wrong bullying is, but no one cared when it happened to me. But I'm the bad person. Because I'm a slut. Because people turned me into a self-fulfilling prophecy, and made me believe that I wasn't worth anything more, that I owed men sex, that I didn't have the right to say no because sluts don't say no. Because I developed curves a little bit too early.
I don't know how to escape this. I can't make friends. I can't get a boyfriend. As soon as people hear I met someone, they flock to tell this person why they need to avoid me. And it's really, really hard to have absolutely no one. I'm ashamed of my body, I'm ashamed of my past, of my number, and I don't think anyone will ever accept me for it. I'm 20 years old and still being judged by rumours people made up when I was 14.
The truth? Almost every guy I have had sex with has coerced me into it when I had originally refused. Some of those guys didn't bother coercing me and took what they wanted regardless of what I said. I have been in 3 serious relationships. I have never cheated. I dated my high school boyfriend for almost 3 years, and my last boyfriend for 7 months. I have not had sex in 6 months. I have probably had sex with between 60 and 70 people.
Why has society taught men these confusing double standards? Why have we been taught that mere physical contact is automatically sexual? And why do I constantly have to prove my qualification in order to be respected?
This is my story, not about being slut shamed, but just about gender roles and society and feminism and what not: For several years now I've been taking karate lessons, at first because my parents wanted me to learn how to defend myself, and then because it became my passion. It's not like I'm a violent person; in fact, that's a very misunderstood stereotype about martial artists. We strive for careful control so we know how to do a technique without hurting our partners during practice. Being a girl in karate is a definite rarity, and because of this, I get very agitated. Men have been taught throughout their lives that they shouldn't hit a girl, ever, while simultaneously being taught that losing to a female shows weakness, or that it threatens their masculinity. Most men and women have been taught that to touch another person at all is considered a sexual action. Remember cooties? So for these macho karate guys to get paired with me must be an extremely confusing experience for them, and a challenge for me. If we're sparring, should they go in for a punch? Try out a kick? No, they can't hit a girl. But if they don't, they'll be beaten by the weakling female. Their manliness is at stake. So they might choose to absolutely annihilate me, showing none of the control that our school seeks. Or maybe they’ll avoid me altogether, and do you know what a sparring match is without the fighting? Calm circling. Or, and this is the worst of all, they say out loud, “I’ll take it easy on you because you’re a girl.” Say we're practicing how to get out of various grabs or holds. So we grab onto each other’s wrists, shoulders, shirt-front, and practice different ways to escape. Sometimes we even throw our partners, safely of course, over our hip. Should they really grab a girl by the wrist? Can they really hold onto a female's shirt-front? How are they supposed to put a girl on their hip and throw her without being sexual, or without looking abusive? All the while, I’m striving to become a kickass person, and to even get my black belt. How am I supposed to practice when my partner is uncooperative? How are either of us supposed to become better martial artists if we refuse to collaborate? Why has society taught men these confusing double standards? Why have we been taught that mere physical contact is automatically sexual? And why do I constantly have to prove my qualification in order to be respected? Because a woman is supposed to be weak? Because she’s supposed to be small and afraid? No, I refuse to bow to those societal standards. I can throw a person to the ground in just as many ways as a man can. I can do just as many kicks, my punch is just as powerful, I bruise in the same way. So why am I perpetually justifying myself? Why does a man have to “take it easy” on me? We accomplish the same tasks. We learn the same techniques. Our minds share the same knowledge. And yet, we treat each other as though we’re irrevocably different. Both genders want to receive their black belt someday, and by rejecting society’s detrimental norms, we can easily become kickass people together. So why do we continue to separate ourselves with these social boundaries? - Olivia McGovern
I lived in fear from answering my phone, going online, anything that had to do with contacting people. I decided I wasn't going to live that way.
It started when I entered the sixth grade. Everything was fine until the midway through it. I was known as a whore and bitch because I thought my friend's (Ximena, I didn't realize she wasn't my friend, she and her group only talked to me because they felt sorry for me) boyfriend was cute. The bullying happened everyday in every class, passing period, before school and sometimes after school. It didn't help that all 6 classes I had with the same group of people. The main girls who bullied me all told me that no one likes me, I'm too weird, I should leave because no one would care if I was gone. I tried so hard to fit in, I abandoned my best friend just because I didn't like being the loser and weirdo everyone said I was. That was when I thought things were going to turn around. I was wrong. After I got a boyfriend, Francisco, we dated for a while but he got really close to Ximena, and I thought he liked her more than me. I remember one day before P.E she came up to me saying, "Don't think that just because you're his girlfriend you'll be around all the time. You won't." It soon came between us and broke us up. He left me for Ximena and I thought I was heart broken (I was in the sixth grade - I was 'heartbroken'). I didn't understand why I wasn't good enough, why I felt worthless, ugly, weird, I didn't understand why I felt like I didn't belong... anywhere. I was alone and skipped around from group to group. I didn't really think I had friends. The mean girls never left me, mostly because I had class with them. I thought it would be easy to just get my classes changed. You would think that would be easy, right? No. I wasn't aloud to change my classes. I turned to emotionally bullying myself and almost cutting. I felt myself wanting to cut so bad because I had abandoned my best friend to fit in with the popular group. I came to my senses and went to her, luckily for me she welcomed me with open arms. Although our friendship didn't last like I thought it would. We drifted apart and I made a new friend, Sabrina (she and I still talk to this day). Things were looking up and I had a pretty good 4 years, until summer of 2013. All sophomore year, I dated a good guy named Isaiah. I thought he was best thing that ever happened to me. The problem with our relationship was we fought all time. The way we made up is I'd feel bad because I "loved" him. I made a bad decision and sent him inappropriate pictures of me while we were together. When school ended, we tried to stay together and it didn't last very long. He met a friend of mine Sadie. They became close and he soon cheated on me with her. I felt once again worthless, stupid and at one point I felt like I deserved it. Junior year came around. I meet Sean, in my third period Algebra II class. We started talking because I needed help with homework (so cliche). We talked over a messaging app KIK. I wouldn't say he and I were friends. Anyway, he and I talked for a short amount of time and in that time I let him talk me into having sex with him. I lost my virginity to a guy I barely knew. It happened one time and I thought that was end of it that situation. November of 2013, I got messages from two different numbers asking me if I had sex with Sean or if I had a STD. I accused Sean of telling someone what we did but I didn't find out until a day or two later that it was my ex-boyfriend Isaiah who gave my number out and KIK username out. To this day I don't know why. I don't know how he found out about that night with Sean, but I didn't care. It was so bad, the principal got involved and the police did, too. After I finally told an adult, the bullying stopped. Though it didn't stop me from feeling like a slut. I lived in fear from answering my phone, going online, anything that had to do with contacting people. I decided I wasn't going to live that way. I wasn't going to let someone run my life. I wasn't going to let someone control me. I am my own person. We made our decisions, good and bad. I made two decisions in my life I wish I could take back. 1. Sending inappropriate photographs to a boy. 2. Sleeping with my ex-boyfriend's friend, because I was hurt that he left me for my friend. Now I'm an incoming senior, I have two best friends and my cousin Diana has become practically my sister. She had been there for me since forever. They have brought out the best in me and I couldn't be happier. I learned that there's always gonna be people to try to bring you down but remember that you'll have people in your life that want to see you happy. So, I'm Jazmin. I'm not a slut, I'm a person that made life choices. This is my story. - Jazmin
This year in grade 9, high school, I still get bullied. I get called a slut, bitch, even get pushed around so that I had a bruise on my right side. My parents still don't know.
When I was in primary school I was going through a very hard time. I would get verbally abused to my face, being called a slut, bitch, and I even got told to go and kill myself. I cried myself to sleep every night. I even faked I was sick so I could stay home, but even at home I couldn't get away from it - I was also getting bullied online on the school website we had, where we could talk to each other or send comments. I hated it. Someone thought as a joke it would be funny if I was with a guy. We dated, but then he broke up with me cuz he couldn't handle everything going on. He told everyone, and I was the laughing stock of year 7. I went home sick that day. This year in grade 9, high school, I still get bullied. I get called a slut, bitch, even get pushed around so that I had a bruise on my right side. My parents still don't know. I've come out as bisexual to a few of my friends. They accept me and support me whereas others don't, and there are rumors going around the school. But I have a lovely girlfriend who tells me it will all be all right, but I've tried to commit suicide 4 times. It sucks that I've turned to cutting but I'm trying to stop, and to stop throwing up after every couple of meals. So what I've leant from bullying is it ruins society and little minds. That felt good to get of my chest :) - Olivia Celeste
People would write notes to me telling me how much they hated me and wanted me to die.
I've been called a slut and a whore by practically everyone in my year just because some Regina George impersonator decided to spread some rumors about me. It all started because I gave my number to a really hot guy at the cinema. He said he thought I was hot and we texted back and forth for a while. One of my friends accidentally let it slip to this girl who hates me and she started a rumor that I was a giant whore even though I've never even been kissed. Eventually the guy stopped talking to me but the rumors still continued. People would write notes to me telling me how much they hated me and wanted me to die. It got so bad that one day while in class we were supposed to write notes to people in the class and tell them something good about them to help raise their self esteem. I got at least twenty notes which I assumed were harmless but they were anything but! The teacher had to read them aloud to the class and I could tell she felt bad about it. But nothing was done! I lost all my friends and no one bothered to talk to me. It wasn't until I finally found the courage to tell my guidance counselor about it that things started to change. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders and for the first time in months I felt free. I'm still not Little Miss Popular, but now I have a few close friends that I can turn to if things start getting bad again. I'm glad I did something about it because frankly, I don't think I'd be alive right now if I hadn't. - Amy
I can't seem to get rid of the reputation I have, which is so dumb because I was 11 when it started. It is still going on, making me quite scared of what will happen in high school.
When I was in 3rd and 4th grade, I had a boyfriend who went to a different school (didn't really matter, wasn't a real relationship). Let's just call him John. After two years of 'dating', I broke up with him. I am going into high school this year. Ever since 4th grade when I ended things, people have been calling me 'John's girl', and telling me to get back together with him so that he and I could f***. This has been ongoing for five years, and he is going to my high school this year, so I am quite scared of how that is going to go. Another 'boyfriend' I had, was in 5th grade. Let's call him 'Will'. He had liked me since 1st grade, so when we finally went out, people would always make fun of me, and say that I was just leading him on, when I actually did like him. They called me names and everything. When I ended things and we went into middle school, we were joined by another group of elementary school kids that I never met before. That first day of school, people I didn't even know the names of would tease me and make fun of me for going out with Will, who was a good kid! I didn't know why people would do that. Every time I would have a thing with another guy, they would practically treat me like a slut and say that I was cheating on Will. One guy moved to our school from Georgia, all the way across the country, and the first thing he said to me was, 'So, you and Will got it on, huh?' I have never even had my first kiss yet! It got so bad that people would text me on unknown numbers saying inappropriate things claiming they were Will, and they would do the same to Will claiming they were me. They would post things on social websites anonymously. Will and I finally talked to the counselor, who said he would give detention to the next person who did it. When people still bullied us and we reported it, he never did anything about it except for once. Once people heard I reported it, I was known as the tattle tale, and goody two shoes. I can't seem to get rid of the reputation I have, which is so dumb because I was 11 when it started. It is still going on, making me quite scared of what will happen in high school. It's better, yes. But still happening. I would like every girl on here to know that you need to report or talk to an adult who is trusted. Sometimes, you can't handle everything on your own, especially, like in my case, when you have a whole school against you. It will get better, though. I am scared for this school year, but am hoping and am optimistic that it will get better. My story may not seem like much compared to others, but it is a form of sexual harassment that is hurtful to me. Stay strong, and stand up against bullying, ladies. - Emily Crose
I have 2 kids that need me so suicide isn't really an option. I'm starting to feel depressed, anxious and paranoid. Nobody deserves this!!
I wrote something to a guy via Facebook that I believe might have been something a little naughty, but I'm not sure because I was drinking a lot back then. A girl that doesn't like me at all for sleeping with her boyfriend got ahold of this message and sent it all over the Internet and now I am getting dirty looks and even rude comments from people and laughing! It's making me sick! I have 2 kids that need me so suicide isn't really an option. I'm starting to feel depressed, anxious and paranoid. Nobody deserves this!! I am a good person. I just made bad mistakes when I drank.
When I reached this website I was comforted to know that I'm not the only one out there.
My father for many years would sexually, physically, and verbally abuse me. At school I was seen as a slut. Many of my peers saw me as attention wanting and some thought I was lying (I was just really good at hiding the bruises). At the age of 13 I fell into a deep depression and began to seriously self harm and about three times I tried to commit suicide. When I reached high school my father became more aggressive with his abusing because I came out as homosexual. My girlfriend at the time was very caring and called the police on my father. It was only after I went to the station and told them myself and showed them the bruises, that they finally locked him up. I lived with my grandma since my mother died with I was 2. While looking through Wattpad, I discovered The UnSlut Project diary entries. I read them all in one sitting and I was so moved by them. I then watched the TED Talk and some other clips. When I reached this website I was comforted to know that I'm not the only one out there. So I'm here to say thank you. Even though I'm still struggling with depression and self-harming. I will never forget how there are people out there who are feeling the same way - and that gives me comfort. - Jamie
I'm still being bullied over it and I lose friends everyday. It has broken me and I'm scared to stand up for myself.
When I was in sixth grade, I went through some serious bullying. I wanted to be liked a lot. I got with a guy and he spread it everywhere. I've moved schools three times since then and it came back to bite me. All over my Instagram one of his friends commented on my photos, calling me a slut. Saying I was fat. It really hurt. This year I tried slitting my wrists. It did nothing - it only happened a few times and it ended 93 days ago. I'm still being bullied over it and I lose friends everyday. It has broken me and I'm scared to stand up for myself.
I was shoved into lockers, onto the floor, into bathrooms, down the steps going outside, and his girl friends would kick me, trip me, slap me, and tell me I wasn't worth all of the attention I was getting from him, that I was just a slut for leading him on, playing hard to get.
In fifth grade, this boy had his friend ask me out. I said no; he supposedly already had a girlfriend, and I wasn't interested in him. That's not a big deal. Three years later, in eighth grade, he had someone ask me out again. I said no, still not feeling anything for him. Later on in the year, for our English teacher's birthday, I made brownies and she shared them with the entire class. After that day, this boy, we'll call him Elliot, asked me to make him brownies every time he saw me. I politely told him no every time, because I didn't like telling people no, nor did I like baking when I didn't want to. Fast forward from September to November, and he's still asking every day for brownies. Fed up with it, I told him I would put laxatives in them if he asked me anymore. That stopped the asking, but it started the harassment. All of his friends would leave notes in my locker. "Slut", "Whore", "Bitch", "Fatass". Every day there was a new one. I confronted Elliot, telling him it's not okay for him to have his friends telling me these things. His response? "Make me my brownies before Monday and they'll stop." When I didn't get him the brownies, the harassment picked up. It wasn't just letters anymore. I was shoved into lockers, onto the floor, into bathrooms, down the steps going outside, and his girl friends would kick me, trip me, slap me, and tell me I wasn't worth all of the attention I was getting from him, that I was just a slut for leading him on, playing hard to get. One girl even had the audacity to say to her friends while I was by them, "Maybe she won't make Elliot brownies because she's saving all of her money for weight-loss surgery, or money to pay her parents back for the abortion she had." As a 14-year-old girl who had never even had a boyfriend, or her first kiss, and who was on the chunkier side, that was the lowest blow for me. I finally mustered up the courage to tell the principal. I had all the notes that were left in my locker, and I took it to her. She did nothing except lecture them on how bullying is wrong. Because I reported it, they made the rest of my eighth grade year hell. There was nowhere for me to turn to, and my parents even believed the kids over their own daughter. It'll be three years since that started in September. I haven't told anyone except my freshman choir teacher, who hugged me and patted my back as I poured out my soul to her one day after school, after Elliot called me a whore in our computer class. My choir teacher was the only one who believed me. Her saying I wasn't the one at fault is the reason I am still alive to this day. She brought me back to life, and let me know that she will always be there for me, even after I graduate high school. She is my saving grace, and I thank God for her every day. - Casey
My boyfriend told me not even the cops would jump in if they saw 5 men raping me because they'd see what I was wearing and understand why.
My boyfriend recently told me that I was going to go to a party dressed basically as a prostitute, and not even the cops would jump in if they saw 5 men raping me because they'd see what I was wearing and understand why. I am currently making plans to leave him.
I get petrified every time he touches me because my brother used to touch me. I feel sick whenever he touches me, I really do.
Note to the author: Since you submitted this account anonymously, I don't have your contact information. Please reach out to a parent or teacher for help immediately, regarding this boy and your brother's previous actions. This is not your fault and you can make it stop. Judging from your spelling of certain words, I am assuming you're in the UK. Please visit Rape Crisis England and Wales to find some of the resources available to you. I am always here to talk, as well. Love, Emily
Okay, so this happened this week. So a couple of days ago I was in a happy relationship with my boyfriend who I had fancied for quite a while (this was Tuesday). Trying to be polite, I told my ex (who had recently got dumped by his ex girlfriend) he could sit next to me for maths. Then he kept flirting with me, touching my hand, stroking my leg, and this wasn't the first time he had touched me. Whenever he touched me I felt like he would go a bit higher, up my skirt, and I just felt like bursting into tears. He then told me he liked me in that way and then 10 minutes before the lesson ended, he asked me out. He didn't know I was dating anyone since me and my boyfriend wanted to keep it a secret. I told him I would think about it. On Wednesday, my boyfriend broke up with me. On Thursday, me and my friend (a girl) were revising and my ex suddenly went and sat next to me and he started touching me again...I hated it. Friday, he sat in between me and my other friend and he started touching me again-and he had a girlfriend. I felt my skirt rising a bit, so I actually made something to stop it, I moved a slight bit, he got the message and moved back to his place. I really don't know what to do, what if he goes too far? I get petrified every time he touches me because my brother used to touch me. I feel sick whenever he touches me, I really do.
We called the deputy to see how to protect her and make her feel safe in her own home. His response? "I talked to the neighborhood boys - they said she's been around."
My twelve year old daughter had been experiencing harassment in our neighborhood for some time. It had escalated to the point of being called "slut" and other epithets by boys as she would walk to our friend's house close by. We had a boy who was homeless stay with us who got into trouble with the police and the neighbors got even harsher with my daughter. The young man got help and thank goodness a place for him and his family to live. Meanwhile, my daughter continued to suffer from rumors and loud comments from our neighbors, rocks being thrown at her in our backyard by boys across the fence. We called the deputy to see how to protect her and make her feel safe in her own home. His response? "I talked to the neighborhood boys - they said she's been around." Furthermore, when I commented about her depression from the constant harassment his response was, "Tell her to grow a thicker skin." How do you protect a child that the police don't even care about? I want her to believe in our system of justice but it won't believe in her. There seems nowhere else to go.
I understood I MUST NOT LEAD BOYS ON or the consequences would be MY FAULT. But it didn't help: I was raped as a 17-year-old virgin. He thanked me afterwards. I didn't tell anyone.
I first heard the word "slut" when I was 8 and my father screamed it at my mother during a late night row. She worked part-time as a waitress and he was forever accusing her of cheating on him. So when, at 11, I was told off at school for sitting with my knees apart because "only sluts sit like that", I knew it was bad. They weren't far apart, and I was wearing tights, and I was in a girls-only school but it was apparently a crime worthy of punishment. That school also taught me that only sluts eat in public and shamed me as dirty for wearing knickers under my nightie (it was a boarding school). The rules are confusing. I grew boobs early and it turned out that made me a slut, too. The worst was when I invited a girl from school to stay over and she wasn't allowed to because her mother thought I was a slut because of the way my breasts looked in my school uniform. The T-shirts clung and the poorly designed blouses popped open if I forgot to safety pin them closed. Boys at school were not that unkind to me, to be honest. I got remarks on my breasts, mostly when I ran (so I stopped doing that). An uncle fondled my breasts when we were alone watching TV one night, on the pretext of petting the cat sitting on my lap. A male friend of my parents stuck his tongue in my mouth when kissing me for the New Year, then mocked me for not having experience. These things I understood were somehow my fault, and my shame. I did not flirt, I did not dress provocatively (I wore a gunmetal grey, drop-waist dress to a school dance for example. Basically a grey sack. I did not get asked to dance). I understood I MUST NOT LEAD BOYS ON or the consequences would be MY FAULT. But it didn't help: I was raped as a 17-year-old virgin. He thanked me afterwards. I didn't tell anyone. - Robyn
This was probably the point in my life that my cutting was the worst. I didn't know how to stand up for myself, and I couldn't.
I guess you could call me the 8th grade slut. I've had two boyfriends, and the farthest I've made it is second base. Everyone had already begun calling me a slut before because my boyfriend was the most unpopular person in our class, so that made me desperate in their eyes. Now that I have another boyfriend, things have gotten worse. When I was sitting at lunch, my "friends" started talking about me. They started saying things like: "Oh my gosh, Grayson is going to lose her virginity before she turns 18!" "I bet you that she'll lose it before she gets her drivers license." And then, the one that has been stuck in my mind since it happened. "It doesn't matter, you'll be married when you're 18 anyways." I cried for hours when I found out what they actually thought of me. This was probably the point in my life that my cutting was the worst. I didn't know how to stand up for myself, and I couldn't. I have social anxiety and I was so shocked they'd said all that, I couldn't respond. Now, months later, I confronted them about what happened, and they have the audacity to claim I made it up. They make it known they don't like me after I finally stood up for myself. And everyone acts like I'm crazy. It makes me sick. - Grayson Carter
Even though Joe went in to snog Em, Marie and everyone else she told said it was Em's fault. So when we were back at school, the people who found out said she was desperate, a slag, a whore, etc. etc.
Well, this isn't really my story, but I was involved in it. Basically, me and 2 other girl mates and one guy mate went into town one day after school. Lets say the girl's name was Em and the guys name was Joe. Em and Joe were walking back as Joe had to catch a bus and Em had to get home, whilst me and Rowan stayed. They were messing about and being friends, even though they both were recent exes. Joe went into snog Em, and then Em - due to surprise - just let it happen. When they stopped, he went into snog her for a second time. This would've been fine if not for the fact that Joe was dating a girl called Marie. But before they could kiss/snog again, Em said, "No, this is wrong, you have a girlfriend". A day after the incident, she told me about it. I decided to tell Marie. Now here's the crap bit: even though Joe went in to snog Em, Marie and everyone else she told said it was Em's fault. So when we were back at school, the people who found out said she was desperate, a slag, a cheater (she got a boyfriend a day after the incident), a whore, etc. etc. Whilst Joe got left alone. Marie apparently said she wanted to "destroy" Em. Practically only 2 people thought it was Joe's fault apart from me and Em. 2 out of like 50 or so people. A month or 2 later, after more gossip has rolled in, most people have forgotten and Joe has got a new girl to play with.
My dad told me all I'd ever be useful for was my cunt, and when I asked him for money one he he told me I should 'turn tricks for money like the other whores.' I was 15.
I was a very awkward and socially unaware child, which naturally escalated when I hit puberty. I had always been bullied for a variety of things. This wasn't helped by the fact I grew taller than all my friends, had very thick, frizzy hair, and my breasts suddenly developed. However despite this, at the age of 12 I found a group of friends. I cut my hair and straightened it, and by 13 my new friends and I would go out drinking every weekend. Boys in my school openly mocked me for how I looked, that I was tall and fat, and I was desperate to lose my virginity in order to get some validation. If I couldn't be accepted at school I would a least gain value from boys outside of school. I did lose my virginity, which no one seemed to find out about, however at 14 I slept with a 17 year old marine my best friend fancied. I was very drunk at the time and hardly remembered the experience, but I told my friend because I knew she would find out eventually. All of our group of friends stopped speaking to me, all the details of my sexual experiences became common knowledge and people I didn't know from my school would call me a slut and whore when they walked past me at school. My friend told everyone I had slept with her boyfriend, and how much of a slut I was. The school became aware of it and I had to defend my actions to my teachers, who thought I'd brought the situation on myself. It became a self fulfilling prophecy and as I felt continually pushed out at school, I started associating with more and more people who were completely disconnected from my educational system and taking drugs. I was so desperate for what I perceived to be positive validation, I slept with a lot of people just to feel wanted and attractive. I recently met a boy who called a whore from my year at school on a night out and he told me he'd said those things cause he wanted to sleep with me and secretly thought all the other boys had said it as well, cause they wanted to have sex. I don't know how I felt about that. During the aforementioned time, my dad told me all I'd ever be useful for was my cunt and when I asked him for money one he he told me I should 'turn tricks for money like the other whores.' I was 15. I've now somewhat made peace with how I acted when I was younger, but still feel resentful for how I was bullied and treated because of it.
The crowd started hating me even more, calling me an attention-seeking whiny slut. I couldn't take it. Now I'm thirteen, and I have switched schools.
When I was twelve, my admirers started rolling in. I didn't reflect on why boys were attracted to me, and I really prefer not to know. Now, I was scared of hurting them because I didn't like any of them back. Leading them on was cruel, but boldly rejecting them was cruel too, even if a little less by a degree. So I decided to give them a “chance.” By this time, boys were courting me, leaving me presents and notes in the places they knew I would be. For a time I was embarrassed and just a little flattered by the romantic attraction, but then that's when the attack started. People started calling me a user and a slut. I lost all my girlfriends, because they had a crush on at least one of my admirers. Students glared and hissed and insulted, and I had never felt so defenseless. Only when one of my admirers were around was when I was given a little breathing space. Since I considered my admirers good and loyal friends, I shared the bullying predicament with them. Verbal fights and fisticuffs were rampant among the school. The crowd started hating me even more, calling me an attention-seeking whiny slut. I couldn't take it. Now I'm thirteen, and I have switched schools. I'm starting to gain admirers again and I'm not going to make the same mistakes twice. Even if I did escape that situation, I'm still haunted by what I left behind, because I still want to fix it. Fix what they think of me and fix the broken bonds I created. I'm not worth the fighting.
That was 13 years ago. I still haven't felt safe enough to have sex.
When I was 13 years old, I hugged a boy outside my school at the end of the day. We had known each other since the 5th grade and had been reflecting on our friendship together over the past 4 years. That night he happened to break up with his girlfriend, a well liked young woman who was a friend of mine. From the next morning on, people whispered and shouted 'slut' at my back as I walked through the halls or in the class room. I was cussed at walking down the street and pushed in my locker. That was 13 years ago. I still haven't felt safe enough to have sex. - Katie
I looked much older than everyone else and the boys would call me "milk truck" and punch me in the boobs while passing me in the halls.
I don't know what happened to me. I know what I was told and I know what others object or deny. I was raised being told that I had been abused as a child. I don't remember this. They forced me to go to therapists for this, put me on depression meds and readily sent me to the hospital at any 'sign of emotional distress.' I wasn't allowed to have friends and all I remember from school was the bullying. I looked much older than everyone else and the boys would call me "milk truck" and punch me in the boobs while passing me in the halls. I never had lasting relationships and I taught myself not to want them because they would be undermined by my family to 'protect me.' Religion told me it was my fault and that my isolation and exclusion was my punishment for being sexually abused before the age of 6. I wasn't allowed to wear anything but long skirts and T-shirts that were two sizes larger than my actual size. They would cut off my hair. I never felt like a girl. I never felt pretty. I just felt like a victim, less than human, and never normal. I married a man because he is good and kind and safe and will never control or abuse me. But I have to force myself to let him touch me. I love him but it's not enough to make it easy for me to be with him. I don't like anyone touching me. No one in my family ever touched me if they could help it while I was growing up. I'm better now, stronger. But I have a terrible relationship with my family. They thought they were protecting me, but they made me more of a victim than my abuser ever did.
I hate how girls are at fault when something like this happens and the guys are almost honored.
This isn't my story, it's for my friend. She had a boyfriend, this was very recent, they seemed like a good couple. She made a mistake and kissed another guy who also had a girlfriend, and she has been repeatedly slut-shamed for it. Now the annoying thing is that the guy's girlfriend had no problem with it and the guy is receiving no scrutiny for his mistake. I remember when it started, I saw her crying because her mom had found out about the incident and shamed her for it. There were also people slut-shaming her while she was still in the room. I got up immediately and hugged her, I told her that she fucked up and everyone messes up so its nothing to be ashamed of. She hasn't been bullied for awhile but I hate how girls are at fault when something like this happens and the guys are almost honored. I am a part of the UnSlut project and this needs to stop.
More and more people found out and soon the whole school was calling me a "whore" and a "slut" and tweeting about how disgusting I was. How was I supposed to tell my school full of strangers that I had been raped and didn't deserve the name calling?
People often think that rapists are strangers in dark alleys; they aren't. My rapist happened to be one of my closest friends. He felt guilty, not for raping me, but for cheating on his girlfriend, so he told her we had sex. More and more people found out and soon the whole school was calling me a "whore" and a "slut" and tweeting about how disgusting I was. How was I supposed to tell my school full of strangers that I had been raped and didn't deserve the name calling? Victims should never feel more ashamed than the rapist. After being called these names, I realized no girl deserves to feel that way. You never know what she was pressured into or what she didn't agree to; you never know her side of the story. Regardless of if a girl is raped or if she willingly partakes in sexual activity, she doesn't deserve to be called a slut. If a girl wants to have consensual sex, she should be able to without being bullied. - Taylor
No one dares to call me a slut, at least not to my face anymore, but I'm scarred.
I'm going into high school next year. I've always had a hard time in social relationships. I've been bullied since I was in 3rd or 4th grade by many different people for many different reasons. In 3rd-6th grade it was honestly just stupid, worthless bullying that I wouldn't let bother me. That is, up until about halfway through 6th grade when my sister passed away. All of a sudden I was weak and couldn't handle any of it. The bullying got worse and turned into girls calling me a slut to my face and guys coming up to me and directly asking me what I would do with them. It continued through 7th grade and through this year. I'm bisexual, but everyone at school now thinks I'm a lesbian. Because I told them so. I wore low cut shirts because I felt comfortable in them. I've always been comfortable with my body, but now I wear sweatshirts almost every day. Guys were getting too close to me and I'd rather identify as a lesbian than have people know I'm bi. I'm left alone more often now. No one dares to call me a slut, at least not to my face anymore, but I'm scarred. I'm not confident in my own body anymore and I'm in therapy for being suicidal.
Afterward I reached out to a couple of my friends, but they laughed it off, not seeing the pain I was in or the damage it did to me.
Sophomore year there was a guy I met and felt that I trusted enough to fool around with. We went over things we expected from each other and things we refused to do, as I feel all sexually intimate people should do, and we decided we were going to "do it". When we started, it was okay, but he was off and I felt uncomfortable almost immediately. I didn't stop him, not wanting to upset him, and felt that I had to go through with the encounter because I had already okayed it. However, my unease grew as he started to strip me quickly, not even bothering to try to get me worked up. He bent me over, and forced himself inside of me where I had told him not to without any warning. I begged for him to stop, and eventually stopped begging, instead withdrawing into myself and mentally cut myself off from what was occurring to my body. He did more to me, and eventually finished. Afterward I reached out to a couple of my friends, but they laughed it off, not seeing the pain I was in or the damage it did to me. Even worse was when I lied about my encounter to a police officer who was investigating another girl's rape. It wasn't until this past summer when I told my current boyfriend about it that I found someone who cared and was willing to help me through it. Even so, I still hate myself for it, and I can't help but feel that it was my fault.
I cannot explain myself. I have no way out. It's ongoing and I'm scared.
Note to the author: Since you submitted this account anonymously, I don't have your contact information. Please reach out to a parent or teacher (not one of the ones who is victimizing you) for help immediately. You are NOT alone, and there IS a way out of all this. You can overcome it, just like the women who have shared their stories here before you. Judging from your spelling of certain words, I am assuming you're in the UK. Please visit www.samaritans.org and check out the resources available to you.
I am always here to talk, as well. Love, Emily
I fell for a boy two years older than me in my first year at a new school, and it was the stupidest thing to have confessed to him and be in a relationship with him. I knew we wouldn't last from the start, but I just held on to that hope... that false hope. Well, he had a reputation of being touchy when it came to being around girls, but he swore that he had changed. His studies weren't that good, but I told people that he's smart but just not when it comes to grades. (Again, I do not know why I did all this.) I was always taught to respect my own body, and I did. On one outing he had 'accidentally' hit my private part when I was wearing shorts, and I just said 'It's okay,' but still I mentally jotted that in my brain. He became possessive after I lost my first kiss to him; I couldn't talk to boys without him coming up to me and listening to our conversation, so I broke up with him on good terms. My friends had paired me up with him again, but we ended our relationship with an argument. He said hurtful things and I came to realise how stupid I was for even caring. He regretted what he said and told his friends about what happened. People started saying that I was so proud and boastful to be his girlfriend even when I wasn't even dating him, and the word spread to other teachers - teachers I don't even know. What eventually came out of this was a whole string of rumours, extra spread of the 'news' through teachers (yes, teachers), after-class talks with my English teacher about whether or not that 'bright and interesting student' within me was still present, even though my friends have noticed no change in me. I don't give two hoots about him now, but I'm just scared that my teachers would think badly of me. I cannot explain myself. I have no way out. It's ongoing and I'm scared.
He got annoyed with me and called me a pussy for not wanting to sleep with him. I actually felt that I should've let him do whatever to me.
I remember the first time I had ever gone out with a guy. I was 15 and he was 17. He tried to put his hand on my ass and make out with me. I pushed him away. He got annoyed with me and called me a pussy for not wanting to sleep with him. I actually felt that I should've let him do whatever to me. I thought that I was meant to sleep with him. I'm glad that I didn't. You don't need to sleep with someone just for them to like you. - Thoko
My mum says I should be proud that I'm a 34C at my age, but if I was flat chested, I wouldn't be stared at by boys.
Well, I'm 12, and I've had a memorable past 2 years. I would get bullied about the way I looked, everyone said I was ugly and fat and I basically had no friends for all of Year 5. Then in Year 6, I would get pinned down by these girls and they would yell at one of the other girls to slap me. I ran, obviously. I would think a lot about suicide. My parents were constantly comparing me to my friends and call me fat and ugly. Year 7 is not any better. I have started cutting, I've got a whole wrist full of scars, whenever I wear a comfortable top and skinny jeans, guys stare at my only just noticeable cleavage. Year 9 students message me saying I have a 'nice pair'. My mum says I should be proud that I'm a 34C at my age, but if I was flat chested, I wouldn't be stared at by boys. Also, there was this rumour that I had shagged 3 boys, presumably my 3 previous exes. That caused Year 8's and Year 7's to look at me in a new light. For example, a Year 8 walked past me and my boy best friend, who is coincidentally his best mate, and said to him, "You're in". It's stopped, *thank effing god*, but now year 8 and 9 girls slag me off, on Facebook and to each other, and I feel really uncomfortable nowadays about myself. For the past few weeks I've been trying to get ahold of fags (cigarettes), sleeping pills, etc. I feel as if I'm deliberately making my life worse for myself. With friends I'm fun and outgoing and we joke about getting drunk and high (we aren't actually into that stuff) and I don't know what to do anymore. Also my ex boyfriend is slagging me off, calling me a whore, when he was the one who played me twice. And I'm sure as hell I'm turning into a slut. Which doesn't work out for me since all the boys who are interested in me are creeps. - C
I know it's not the worst thing that can and has happened to many girls, and I'm not even sure if my drunken mind made half of it up but I know that ever since, I can't stand it when people touch my body, even my girlfriends when we share a bed at sleep overs.
The truth is, I don't even know if what I'm saying is correct. When I was little, I was always a little on the pudgy side and my brother used to tease me about it constantly, until in grade six, when I began to use unorthodox methods to shed the weight. All the boys began to notice me and my self confidence started to build, until my brother decided that it was time to get me drunk for the first time at the end of grade seven. We were the only ones at home and I didn't even realise how drunk I was getting until it was too late. There's a lot of blank spots but I distinctly remember my brother undressing me and putting me in the bath, and how I told him that I didn't want to take off my underwear but he wouldn't take no for an answer. I think I remember him trailing his fingers in the water when I told him to leave and how he wouldn't allow me to walk to my room and carried me with his hand conveniently or accidentally resting on my breast. I know it's not the worst thing that can and has happened to many girls, and I'm not even sure if my drunken mind made half of it up but I know that ever since, I can't stand it when people touch my body, even my girlfriends when we share a bed at sleep overs. I've never been able to tell anyone because what if it is all just an unintentional fabrication and I end up ruining my relationship with my brother and his with my family forever? At the end of the day, no matter what happened, I still love him and would never wish to be the cause of any conflict in his life. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to share. - Pia
Now I'm just back in the dark place where I just feel like I brought this on myself, that God himself was so disgusted with me that he let this happen. If I hadn't been so 'loose', so 'easy', this wouldn't have happened.
Before I was raped, I had been fun loving, dated a lot, went out a lot and enjoyed myself, much to the disdain of a large majority of my church community. After my rape (and still now) I don't go out a lot, I haven't had a relationship with anyone and I don't drink, at all. I suffer with crippling anxiety and it just makes it hard for me to do anything. When I finally felt comfortable enough to share with a member of my church that I had been raped, her first words to me were "I know it seems like this was an awful thing that happened to you, but can't you see that God's hand was in this, He brought you back to the right path." As I sat there shocked beyond belief this lady prayed for me, thanking God that he had allowed me to see the error of my ways. I already carried a lot of guilt over my assault, I had been drunk, I was walking home alone and it was late, but I was working through this with my therapist. Now I'm just back in the dark place where I just feel like I brought this on myself, that God himself was so disgusted with me that he let this happen. If I hadn't been so 'loose', so 'easy', this wouldn't have happened. I can't go back to that church, I don't ever leave the house now unless I have to. I only opened up about what happened to me in the hope that I would be able to further my healing, and now I don't think that I ever will.
Thinking and hearing that affected every intimate relation I had for a long time, and made me unbelievably insecure for a long time. I had never shared this. With anyone.
There is one specific story, one specific day, that stands out when I try to remember the bullying I had to endure at age 14-16 (oh, do I wish I kept a diary at that age, now). It is not one of the harshest, maybe not one of the scariest, but for some reason it's been stuck in my mind since then... for ten years. It was the day after a night at my friend's house. She had a very open dad, who really didn't care what we did, as long as we didn't do drugs and didn't leave the house, so we loved spending the night there, drinking and whatever. That night a guy, a friend of my friend, had to spend the night there, in the basement where we used to hang out and watch movies... So we started watching a movie, and slowly everyone started to leave, go to bed, go home, etc., so that only he and I were left on the couch. I knew perfectly that he was not interested in me, just bored, I guess, and I really didn't want to do anything, but the last friend to leave told me I HAD to stay, and it was going to be great, so I just went with it. He started reaching under my pants with his hand, and it felt weird. Weird and uncomfortable, until I finally just stood up and left for bed, out of weirdness alone. Still, the next day the rumours were crazy. I remember a guy out of my class actually asking if this guy had fingered me and not denying it. I didn't think I had to, it seemed absurd to lie, especially when everyone was doing it. Still, the rumours kept growing, and as school ended that day and I was waiting for the bus, two boys sat down next to me and started asking about it. The conversation I can't get out of my head went something like this: Boy 1: "So, did you blow him?" Me: "What? No." Boy 2: "Of course not, how could she do that with a bag over her head? And she had to wear one if he dared to finger her." To this day I don't know how I let that conversation affect me so much. I knew those guys were assholes, and the guy who had actually been with me that night didn't react like that at all. He was actually friends with me for a long time after that, and he acted like what we did was completely natural, and okay, and not a big deal (so, he acted like a normal person!), but still. Thinking and hearing that affected every intimate relation I had for a long time, and made me unbelievably insecure for a long time. I had never shared this. With anyone. Not even back then, when I wanted to act like I didn't care. Thank you, I'm glad to realize now that sharing stories like this, putting our names and faces on it, showing people that they can get out of it...it helps. - Ro
I felt a lot of shame and was bullied as a result of a choice I made at 13. It affected my sexuality for years.
I am glad you are trying to help girls navigate through issues and heal. I wish someone had been there for me. I gave consent and I am the person who revealed what happened to my classmates, but it still was a traumatic experience. I am in my 40s now with two daughters. During my teenage years, I felt a lot of shame and was bullied as a result of a choice I made at 13. I am thankful we didn't have smart phones and other mobile recording devices. I am sure that would have made it worse. It affected my sexuality for years. - Syinly
I am 48 years old and I was bullied, too. It's still as painful today as it was then.
I am 48 years old and I was bullied, too. I developed early and had to wear a bra at age 9. I was bullied about my bra, my breasts, and eventually at age 13, a rumor was spread that I had sex with a guy because my dad forbid me to hang around him. I was lucky – cell phones and social media were not on the horizon at that time. The rumor died down and I made new friends but the damage was done. Early this year, I have begun to heal and deal with my abuse with the help of my therapist. It's still as painful today as it was then. I have body issues because of it and I am having a hard time moving forward. I thank you for your work on this project.
His parents seemed to think of the situation as "no big deal" and that "it was my fault just as much as it was his."
When I was between the ages of seven to eight years old, my brother's friend (age 11 or 12) pressured me into showing him my private parts. He would get me alone in my bedroom and tell me, "I'm just curious." He would make me feel guilty about not showing him. This continued to happen for several weeks, perhaps months, I don't remember. When my parents found out, they comforted me and told his parents about what happened. For reasons I do not know, he still came over to my house. His parents seemed to think of the situation as "no big deal" and that "it was my fault just as much as it was his." Another experience I had (although its not really my story to tell, but I feel it should be mentioned) was when my father, who was a fifth grade teacher at the time, molested one of his students, for MONTHS. Before the school could find out, he made plans to flee the country. After he left, I continued to email him. Whenever I would mention the girl, he would say "it's in the past" and to just "forget it." I have never been in contact with that girl, but I know for sure that it was not an experience she could just forget.
I'm a 37-year-old male, and I just wanted to say that while the sexual bullying happens to girls most often, it can often happen to young boys as well.
I'm a 37-year-old male, and I just wanted to say that while the sexual bullying happens to girls most often, it can often happen to young boys as well. When I was in 6th grade, I had to deal with a bullying situation. I had an upset stomach and left class with a pass to go to the bathroom. While I was in there, some boys came in and looked over the stall. They deduced since I was hiding myself and telling them to get out and go away, that I was masturbating. At 12 years old, I didn't even know what that word meant, but I soon found out. Within a few hours, it was all over the school that I was masturbating in the bathroom, and I was being shamed in the halls and playground, etc. That stupid rumor followed me until high school, when I was finally physically large enough and mature enough to defend myself. At 6'2", 185 lbs, people stopped bullying me, and if they mentioned it to me, I countered back. I was no longer the timid kid that would just take their bullying. I joined the wrestling team, played baseball, and had a pretty normal high school career. Years later, the kid who started the rumor in Jr. High randomly apologized to me without any prompting from me, so it was somewhat comforting to know that it was a black mark on his heart as well for all that time. I try to remember that when kids are being labeled "bully". He knew what he did was wrong, and maybe didn't foresee the consequences. I feel that the kids who are often doing the bullying are struggling with their own problems and either don't have coping mechanisms, or they have abusive home lives, etc. We need to remember that kids often do stupid things while they're learning to become adults, and I hope that we as a society don't become bullies ourselves by ruining the lives of otherwise good kids who make bad choices and then get labeled as bullies. - B
My heart broke for her as these awful rumors permeated my classroom. And I could see in this girl the utter devastation and downfall of her self esteem.
Perhaps this is a different kind of message than you normally get. I just saw your interview on "Katie" and I immediately grabbed my iPad and found your website, because I don't know how to handle the slut shaming I have experienced. So here is, possibly, where my story differs. I have never personally been the victim of slut shaming and the residual bullying (and sexual assault) that can happen because of it. I am the teacher of a 5th-grade student who has experienced this. This young woman, whom I work with 180 days per year, whom I value as my intelligent, caring, important student, had the "audacity" to publicly show affection for her "boyfriend" at school. Or at least talk about it. Talk about the curiosity that comes with discovering who you are... How dare she say she wanted to kiss him?! The simple act of talking about the desire to kiss a boy turned in to 1) She's a slut. 2) She is hoping to have sex with another boy. 3) She has sex with lots of boys. My heart broke for her as I heard both boys and girls spread these awful rumors about her. It permeated my classroom like the stench of some rotting organic matter. And I could see in this girl the utter devastation and downfall of her self esteem. My reaction was to first, report the matter to my supervisor in the hopes that the students who were shaming this girl would be swiftly reprimanded. And they were: they were suspended for a day. That's all... No teaching of why their behavior was not okay. Next, I reassured my student of my confidence in her and in the value I see in her. Finally, I called her parents to let them know that she would need emotional support when she got home from school. The conversation I had with the parents was interesting. Of course, they were angry. But the mother asked me a question that I will never forget. She asked, "What did she do to cause all this attention? Because I know she isn't always innocent." My response to this mother was: "Whether she did something or not, nobody should be saying these things about her." Since that time, the word "slut" has become prevalent amongst my students, mostly the girls calling each other "sluts". And this is my quandary, as an educator: how do I handle this? What if this happens to another student? I am not the parents of these children, so how do I, as an educator with zero resources and little administrative support, stop this obvious slut shaming in its tracks? I am grateful for the message your organization is sending, and I hope it reaches young women so quickly... That they will learn to find value in themselves and that our young people will find value in each other. - Rebecca
He managed to tell everyone in our circle of friends I was "easy." It escalated from there. Guys were giving me sly grins and girls I had never talked to gave me dirty looks.
I have survived. It has been hard. Let me start at the beginning: I was a happy child of high school sweetheart parents with a happy childhood. I started developing quickly at 11, completely bypassing the training-bra stage and about a foot taller than my classmates. I had frizzy hair, glasses, and a body I didn't know what to do with. I covered myself in baggy T-shirts and pants as much as I could. Partying wasn't in my mind, I did my homework, went to dance class and enjoyed time with my family. School was a torment, teachers loved me, but classmates despised me. One boy, Preston - ugh it still shakes me to this day - filled his sweet time in our math class by slipping his hands across my thighs and 'accidentally' getting good handfuls of my chest all while lowly chanting, "You like that, don't you?" I quietly told him to stop, but I wasn't the type to make a scene and he fully took advantage of that. He liked to whisper about it in the halls to his equally scummy friends when I would walk by.
I did not date until later in high school, the first being a new boy from Arizona who, frankly, I was equally attracted to and scared of, mostly because I had never dated before. He pursued me for an entire school year. I fended off his advances, but his charm finally stuck. He was supposedly a "nice Christian boy," so I after I got my drivers license that summer I went to see him. He told me his parents were home. As he rushed me through his house into his room, I didn't get a chance to see if his parents were absent but I figured they were. I was already feeling put-off. Once in his room he awkwardly sat me on the bed and pushed me down, kissing me. I did want him to like me but I was so disconnected, the innocent kissing quickly turned into his hands down the front of my jeans, which he didn't even bother to unbutton. I lay there completely frozen for what seemed like hours, but it was probably more like 10 minutes. I shot up and out of his house, hopped in my car and went back home, not sure what to do with myself. I was inundated with many angry calls and texts from him telling me to get back there. I finally answered him and said, "No, I'm not comfortable." I cried all night, not sure if what I did was good or bad, maybe I should have stayed, is that what other girls did? It didn't matter. He managed to tell everyone in our circle of friends I was "easy." It escalated from there. Guys were giving me sly grins and girls I had never talked to gave me dirty looks. AIM and MySpace were just beginning and my inbox was full of comments that I deleted left and right. Then and there I chose to never date anyone from my school, quickly changing their harsh comments from "slut" to "tease." Even though it seemed like a lesser term, it still stung. How was I teasing anyone? I started dating an older guy from across town who had already graduated.
The slut shaming didn't stop after high school. I went off to college still dating my high school sweetie, but getting restless. I spent my first semester holed up in my dorm room working on art projects. I didn't drink, but I was the unhappy DD most nights for my friends. They berated me and after hearing it for so long I finally said, "Okay." My boyfriend didn't like the fact I was away at college doing God knows what, which ironically wasn't anything at all. So finally I called it quits after 3 years with him during my second semester, and decided to finally have my crazy-college-time. Generally I would wake up in my bed, the sorority couch, or in my car, but there were occasions of waking up next to a male collegiate without his name and my pants either missing or undone and no recollection. This, I assumed, was the "college experience," and for the most part I didn't find it troubling. I had a couple of flings here and there, nothing crazy. One instance, though, will forever haunt me more than the rest. Our annual sorority formal was coming up and I was date-less so the sisters decided to set me up. I knew I could have plenty of fun with just the girls, but they insisted. I met up with him a few days prior to the formal. He picked me up and we went for a drive in his truck and talked for a bit. He seemed cool, but I wasn't really into him. He was quite a bit older, about 33 at the time, back in college after his stint in the military, with thinning hair and a crooked grin. I'm not about stringing guys along but since he seemed genuinely excited to go to the formal, I kept the date. He picked me up in a good mood, from what I could tell. We got there and several of the sisters were already a few drinks in, so they felt I needed to catch up. The night wore on and I didn't manage to drink more than a drink and a half at most, but I was feeling light-headed. We headed to an after party at a frat house and that's where things get hazy. I only mildly recall getting there and nothing about leaving. I woke up in a room I didn't recognize, completely naked, and there he was in the nude lying next to me. I couldn't move for several minutes but when I did, I realized every muscle was sore. I tip-toed to the bathroom in search of my clothes and tried to dress in between getting sick into his toilet. I got out as quietly as I could. It was still in the early morning hours. I went home and quickly tried to put it out of my mind.
My grades started slipping, I was drinking every night, slept through most of my classes, and couldn't sleep - pretty much every opposite trait of myself. Finally that summer, I called my parents. I wanted to come home. I hopped around in junior college, still struggling. I also hopped therapists. My first therapist sat me down with my parents and told them about my "alleged rape" and all I could do was cry. I found my third therapist and she completely opened up my thought process. She deals in PDT therapy and works with those dealing with traumatic experiences and she completely helped me save myself. I am now in a successful career as an esthetician, engaged to the most loving and thankful man I have ever met, and I have a bulldog pup that is the light of my life. I still battle demons, but I can tell you IT DOES GET BETTER. - Beth Brasher
Your life is not over! No matter the amount of sexual harassment, bullying, name calling, or hurting, taking your life is never the answer.
My parents split when I was 5. I mostly lived with my mother until I was 12. Then she decided to skip state in the middle of a custody battle, thus giving my father full custody and taking us back to New York. I was 12 years old I'd never lived with my father, only had seen him on weekends with my stepmom. She was the definition of a wicked stepmother. I never talked to anyone about anything. Not my period, not smoking, not pot, not having sex, not battling alcoholism senior year. And not to blame my parents at all, but I couldn't go to my them and have them understand I was getting curious and teach me about life. They were just rash about things and punished me for having a boyfriend. Everything they told me I couldn't do or couldn't have made me do it that much more. I don't feel like my father ever loved me. Ever. In high school I lived in a small town. Every single person and their brothers, sisters, moms, and dads knew the day I lost my virginity, how it happened, where it happened, and that I cried like a little wimp after. I cried because I felt like I lost a piece of me. This was about January in 9th grade. I lost my virginity and got labeled a slut. People called me nasty names and teased me, saying, "I heard the carpet matches the drapes." I was called "fire crotch." Oh and I can't tell you how many times people said I was pregnant. I'll never forget the time this guy told me how much he liked me and never would tell if I sent him a dirty picture. So I took my shirt off and snapped away. Picked one I liked and sent it like it was no big deal. Until I walked into school the next day and by second period I was mortified. It seemed that almost every single person had my naked body on their phones. There were a lot of guys who said they slept with me and they hadn't. I was the "fire crotch slut" who would have sex. Like they weren't all doing it, too. The popular kids with money were the worst. Then 11th grade rolled around I was getting drunk a lot. Smoking pot heavily almost every day. Popping pills, whatever anyone would give me. Adderall was my pill of choice. I sold them. I bought more drugs and alcohol. Then I became the hot mess at parties, sleeping with guys. Then in 12th grade I got kicked out of school because someone had my bowl in their car and they snitched on me. Graduated anyway and every single day I would get out of school at 10:45 and be so drunk by noon that I couldn't walk to the store to get cigarettes. There really wasn't one person around town that liked me. So I drowned my sorrows in sex, drugs, and partying. I only felt accepted when I was being used. There were many times I thought how much life wasn't worth living because on a daily basis a majority of girls and guys would call me "slut." Guys who wanted me would just assume that I'd slept with everyone else, so why not them? Guys I went to school with would offer me drugs for sex; it's the only time I've ever said no. I would not compromise myself like that. It is today that I feel like I know what respecting myself means. The whole point of telling all this is: GIRLS, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO DO ANYTHING JUST BECAUSE A GUY PRESSURES YOU. And if you get raped, press charges! Your life is not over! No matter the amount of sexual harassment, bullying, name calling, or hurting, taking your life is never the answer. I could picture how I'd do it but inside I never could. That wasn't a sign of weakness, that was a sign that my journey wasn't over. Today I am a single mother and my son is my life. I had a greater purpose and it was this little boy. I was a drug addict before I got pregnant and he saved my life. And I am not perfect, but if there's one thing I've learned from my parents, it is how NOT to raise a child. It is my goal to show my son that no matter how fat, short, ugly, unpopular, pretty, or popular she is, he never has a right to disrespect a female. My goal as well is to make a difference in young girls' lives like the creator of this project did for me today. Thank you for that.
I had no friends and people were scared to go near me. People were saying I was gay, I had HIV, I was pregnant, and I was a whore.
I was in 6th grade when it started. I was just the "ugly slut" and people said I was a lesbian. I lived with it. When I hit 7th grade it got worse. I had no friends and people were scared to go near me. People were saying I was gay, I had HIV, I was pregnant, and I was a whore. Although none of that was really true, it still hurt. I lived with it. Then I moved schools because I couldn't handle it. My parents never knew I was being bullied at all. I still got hate online but I lived with it. At my new school I started fresh. But then it started again. No matter what I do people hate me. I tried to just ignore it but I couldn't. January 12, 2014 I got in a fight with my mom and I tried to kill myself. I took handfuls of sleeping pills. I have never been so upset and I have never hated myself so much. Luckily my mom found me and rushed me to the ER. I was put on a 72-hour hold in a mental hospital. When I got out I pretended it never happened! It felt like the only way out. That's when I started drinking. I got not only myself but a handful of people in trouble. I didn't have a care in the world. Then I found out I was pregnant and my whole world stopped. And that's my story...
I got spit on, I had chocolate milk poured in my locker, my car was keyed and egged. Our house was toilet-papered. Someone even put a dead deer in our yard.
When I was 12 I had more boys as friends than girls. I had two girl friends that I felt would always be a part of my life - we were always together. All of our mutual friends would always hang out together. I lived next to a river so we always had people out going fishing and my house was the "fun" house (my mom was like a mom to everyone). I went down to the river one day with a couple of guys out there. One said, "Hey, what's back there?" I replied, "A bunch of trees." He said, "Let's check it out." He was dating a friend so I didn't think anything of it until he "accidentally" tripped me and pulled my shirt up and started licking my chest. I said no and he shoved his hand down my pants. It hurt, it burned, it was horrible. As soon as he was done I went straight home and took a shower. I didn't tell my mom or anyone. Monday at school the "friend" he was dating had told everyone I had come onto her guy and not to leave your boyfriends around me since I was easy. That was my very first sexual encounter. I was told by her mom that I was a slut and that I could no longer be a friend of her daughters if I was that kind of example. No one even asked me what happened.
Three years later as a freshman I was dating a junior from another school. He pressured me for sex a lot. I was a virgin - he was not. I finally gave in two days before my 16th birthday. I hated it. It hurt, I felt so used and so low. I told my best friend and she was like, "You just now did it? I thought you did a long time ago." I was with him another two years after and he was extremely controlling and had several other girls he slept with but he told me that was how he knew I loved him - by sleeping with him. Once we broke up, one of his friends apologized to me. He said their group of friends told the guy I was with to stay with me until I "gave it up" and then he should dump me. He said he never thought it would be so bad for me. A month after we broke up, I joined the wrestling team. My mom told me I had "anger issues" and made me go to one counseling session that she sat in on. I answered questions the way they wanted not by telling the truth. I was told if the wrestling helped to keep it up and was started on an antidepressant to level my moods.
My neighbor, a senior that I'd known for ten years, also wrestled. My mom would make food for the team and he'd hang around after the rest left. On December 26, 2003 we were in my room talking and joking and watching movies we had gotten for Christmas. I fell asleep and woke up with him on me, one hand up my shorts and the other over my mouth. He told me he had wanted me for years and he knew I did, too. But I didn't. When I tried to shove him off he told me he'd hurt me and how embarrassed my mom would be if she found out how easy I was. The next day we had a wrestling tournament and when I got home I told my mom. She told me, "If it's true, tell your coach and leave the team." I did. No one believed me. I got spit on, I had chocolate milk poured in my locker, my car was keyed and egged. Our house was toilet-papered. Someone even put a dead deer in our yard. I cried all the time. I begged my mom to let me switch schools and she said no. He graduated that spring but no one ever let me forget it.
Just last week my mom asked in the car, "What ever happened to that boy that was our neighbor you had sex with?" It hit me like a ton of bricks. I almost threw up. And I said I don't know and I don't care. Anyway, I'm 27 now, married with two beautiful girls with my husband now. I'm terrified for them. I know how bad it was for me before social media and now I'm even more worried for them. I can just try to help other girls know it's not okay what happened, but you CAN get through it. Life gets better after high school. You can go to college and get to start over! Don't let them win! Don't respond with negativity, just ignore it. I know it's so hard but when they see no reaction they move on! Just remember you are beautiful no matter what and you are NOT alone.
Boys that hardly know me think I’m a whore. But I’m not a slut or a saint, I’m a person.
I’ve never been the pretty girl of the class or even the beautiful one, but when I turned sixteen, I changed. I had boobs, I was skinny, and I had a pretty face. I started to go out, went to parties, drinking, and met boys. I was a virgin when I was 17 years old, but everybody call me a slut. Why? Just because I had a "slut face," just because I liked to dress in a sexy way. Just because they could do it. They could go out and say: do you see that girl? She's a whore. And everybody would believe it unquestioningly. At the start it doesn’t hurt. I knew that I didn’t do all the things they said. But then it changed. I liked a boy. The kind of boy that makes you feel sexy and then makes ten other girls feel sexy, too. The kind of boy that doesn’t want more than sex. I’m not blaming him. I knew that when I went with him. And I used to think that I wanted it too, because I didn't deserve more. Or if I deserved more, I'd never have it. And I had sex with him. I had sex with a boy that thought I was a slut. But I was virgin, and he never knew it. But he went out and told everybody that wanted to listen that I was "bad in bed." That I was a "rookie." Everybody still called me slut behind my back. I know what I am and what I’ll never be. But it's still happening. Boys that hardly know me think I’m a whore. But I’m not a slut or a saint, I’m a person. And nobody should expect anything from me because I have nothing to prove. I’m a person. I’m a woman. And even when they call me a slut for doing what I want to do, even when it hurts, I’m still a person. I deserve to be treated with respect and the people who don't respect me, doesn't deserve to be in my life. I'm not a slut. I don't have a "slut face." I'm a person. And I know it even when the rest of the world doesn't. - Carla
Eventually they caused me so much hurt it wasn't worth continuing the friendship anymore.
When I was around 15, I used to wear this little tartan skirt that I really adored and I wore it on many occasions out in public without any comments from anyone. Until I went out with my two best friends who deemed it too "inappropriate" to be seen in public and said that I wasn't allowed to wear it again with them around, because they were too ashamed to be friends with a girl in a "slut" skirt. This behaviour continued on many occasions with different clothing and attitudes that I had towards sexuality. Eventually they caused me so much hurt it wasn't worth continuing the friendship anymore.
She told me not to tell these matters to my parents; it was part of the Honour Code – you did not want to frighten your parents and thus cause them grief and give a bad name to your university.
I belong to a conservative family in India where even talking about your periods is taboo. No boys, no movies, no pornography - that was the theme of my childhood and early teens (that rule is still in force). I went to an all-girls school, had few friends, as my parents are quite racist and passed judgments on others based on social background rather than intrinsic goodness. My parents were determined to send me to another state (within India) for higher education and after graduating from 12th grade, I ended up in a university in a big city. I was assigned a room in one of the dorms, which I had to share with 3 older girls belonging to other disciplines. I made friends with them, one of whom was named 'A'. She was from the same state as me and hence we decided to stick together. Within a week of my arrival, my roommates and their friends called me and 'A' for an 'introduction' aimed at getting to know us. This is one of those dreaded rituals for freshmen, as the so-called seniors can fire any embarrassing questions that you have to answer on the spot. One such question posed to 'A' was, "Do you have a boyfriend?" She answered no, and replied that usually boys were rowdy and therefore she preferred the company of girls. There were many giggles among the girls after this, and one of them loudly told me, between giggles, that I should not hang out with 'A' or I might end up liking girls, too! Needless to say, both 'A' and I were crushed at their cruel words. 'A' looked at me accusingly as it was one of my roommates who had declared her as a lesbian. And both of us could not protest against them. Freshmen who went against seniors had to face consequences. A year later, one of the girls in my class asked me for help with her studies. She was slightly disabled and belonged to a poor family. She had no cellphone, and therefore handed me a letter, where she had frankly written about her handicap, her family condition, as well as her request to be tutored by me. Out of embarrassment, she implored me to read her letter in privacy. However when 'A' and my new roommates saw the letter, they started giggling and declared, "Looks like a love letter, or else why would the girl ask you to read it in private?" I smiled at them but was deeply hurt - without reading the letter, how on earth could you pass a judgment on the sexuality of a person? The three years spent in the university were hellish - I encountered perverts who made lewd comments about my body and clothing, and occasional flashers who stripped before me abruptly when I was on my way to class early in the morning and vanished before I could call the university guards. 'A' told me not to tell these matters to my parents; it was part of the Honour Code – you did not want to frighten your parents and thus cause them grief and give a bad name to your university. And caught between "Good girls don’t get boyfriends and wait till marriage to have sex" and "She has no boyfriend and hangs with gal pals only - must be a lesbian," I sought the refuge of my textbooks. I could not spend the evening in the nearby park, as dangerous people loomed nearby (personal experience) nor hang around trees (evil spirits were supposed to haunt them in the evening!) nor use the washrooms in the park (gay men supposedly lurked in the washrooms of both genders and assaulted people who wanted a bathroom break!). The haunted trees and psychotic gays were of course rumours, but then nobody was willing to test these rumours and determine the truth. What I want to stress by my story is that a person’s sexuality is not a plaything. It does not matter whether you make fun of people on a mere whim - it hurts deeply. And if a straight person like me had to face ridicule on alleged lesbianism, one can only imagine the predicament of queer persons and transgendered people who face shaming. The UnSlut Project is one forum where I've found friends like Emily Lindin, who is willing to read into stories of countless women. So friends, no matter where you are residing, what your background or educational qualifications are - if you want to pour out your heart in a story, then please do so. Nobody is here to judge you based on looks and sexuality - we know what it means to be a loner, to be slut-shamed and ridiculed to the point of extreme depression. And if your gut feeling says to stay away from certain persons, then please trust your gut.
She said she was always surprised that this bad, stupid girl never got raped.
I have friends I've relied on for 15 years - that's rare for a military brat. Recently, on a girls' weekend, I shared the story of my rape to them. I've learned things don't get smaller till you say them out loud. We worked together when I was raped, and it was someone they knew. It was brutal and I'm embarrassed, and it's still weird for anyone to touch my hair. Interrupting me, one of the girls said, "This girl I knew in college...". I said, "I don't like where this is going..." But she said she was always surprised that this bad, stupid girl never got raped. I want to confront my friend, but I love her. And I don't see ever changing her mind.
People I had known for years saw me crying and would say, "It's your fault."
I still have nightmares. I was 14 when it happened. I had hardly even kissed a boy. It started out like any normal day. I went to school. I remember being in a really good mood. After school, I walked to the park with my "best friend," who was a guy. It was his birthday. We weren't the kind of friends to give each other presents, but what I didn't know is that he expected one. We got to the park and sat at a picnic table near some trees. People passing by couldn't see us unless they looked really hard. But I didn't think about it . He was my best friend . I trusted him. So I went to the park with him alone. For that, I was "asking for it." Then he surprised me: he kissed me. I didn't run away, I didn't stop him. It was only a kiss. He wanted something I wasn't willing to give him. "I'm your best friend, don't you trust me?" He pressured me over and over. I didn't get up and run away. I trusted him. For that, it was "my fault." I said no. Over and over I said no. I was getting ready to go home. I should have gone sooner. And for that, you guessed it. "It was my fault." And so he raped me. Rape. For the longest time, I never used that word. I hated it. I still do. When he was finished, he went to track practice. He didn't understand or care what he had done to me. I walked home, locked myself in my room. The next day at school, nothing seemed different . I went to my classes like normal. I didn't notice people whispering or giving me dirty looks. Then I went to art class, 5th hour. I was trying so hard to not think about the day before. We were drawing animals that day, I think. I heard two girls at the next table fake coughing out the word "Whore." One of them I had known since kindergarten. I looked up and realized they were looking at me. This was the beginning. My "best friend" had told the whole school that I had willingly done a variety of sexual acts with him. And because he was such a nice guy, and well liked, they high-fived him. Patted him on the back. And believed him. But no one high-fived me for what they THOUGHT I had done. I spent the rest of the year being called a whore, slut, anything you can think of. I was the star of half the rumors in that school. I had nightmares, I got anxiety. I finally got up the courage to tell someone. It was my brother, at the same school. He told me it was my fault. I was so relieved when school let out for the summer, because it would all go away and I could move on. But it followed me, online. Anytime someone saw me. There was no escape. I tried to kill myself. It never went away. When I came back for school the next year it was still happening. People I had known for years saw me crying and would say, "It's your fault." Finally, I switched schools. At first, it followed me there. I was hopeless. Then slowly, it went away. But what never went away is the nightmares. The anxiety. Almost every night I see his face in my sleep. I'm about to graduate high school and I sleep with a nightlight, because no matter how much anxiety medicine I take , he's still there. But he hasn't stolen my voice. This is my first time telling my full story. And not my last. The UnSlut Project has given me hope. It isn't my fault. And I am not what happened to me.
Most of what is shared on this site deals with public slut-shaming, but private slut-shaming from an intimate partner is equally psychologically disturbing.
I was two months into a relationship. He and I communicated intimately, and I felt the security to share my thoughts and feelings with him. One afternoon, we discussed sexual fantasies. He shared, I shared, and it felt like a safe space. So I opened up more and told him that I was interested in the idea of sex with multiple partners. Bam. The beginning of nine months of shame and torment. I didn't know that this liberal and open-minded person held such possessive and sexist views about women's bodies, but I would learn. For the rest of the relationship, the theme of me being a slut, trash, a whore, a tease, a pervert, and having no self-respect wove its way into everything. I was a slut for smiling at our guy friends or for enjoying sex too much. My ideas about sex were sick, and I probably should be "one of those girls in pornos," that I would like degradation. He was threatened by my body, my sexuality, and slut-shaming was a way to terrorize and control me. Most of what is shared on this site deals with public slut-shaming, but private slut-shaming from an intimate partner is equally psychologically disturbing. It has taken me years to deconstruct the shame I grew to feel around sex, and we all need to work together to unshackle ourselves from the blame of living female.
She had told me that she was going to commit suicide, but she that had second thoughts after I became her friend. Then, rumors started spreading that we were dating, and sexually active. Now, she and I both were the school sluts.
There was this one girl at my school who didn't really have any money. We soon found out that she was a prostitute, and only thirteen! Nobody wanted to be near her, people said she had AIDS, and there were more cuts on her wrists than I could count. She was the school slut. Guys still dated her, but only because she was "experienced". We all hated her. I started to feel bad for her, so I sat with her. She had told me that she was going to commit suicide, but she that had second thoughts after I became her friend. Then, rumors started spreading that we were dating, and sexually active. Now, she and I both were the school sluts. Ten years later, we are both still close friends, married to wonderful men, with children. When we showed up at the reunion, people were shocked, and nobody said a word to us. My middle school and high school experience was hell, but you can get through it if you have good friend(s). - Clarah May
The false rumors spread quickly. I was labeled the slut and even got in trouble with my parents and the principal!
In fifth grade I had my first boyfriend (let's call him "A")... We didn't touch or kiss - only held hands once. After two months of dating, we broke up. Then, "A" started spreading rumors about how I kept going over his house and had sex with him and all things related. "A" was a popular boy with a lot of friends, so the false rumors spread quickly. I was labeled the slut and even got in trouble with my parents and the principal! I told them the truth, and "A" got an in-school suspension. The label of me being a slut slowly faded away, and now in sixth grade, I moved from that school and I'm now in a new town with new friends, and still no boyfriend. (I'm too young for it, anyway!) - Samantha
I was sexually harassed, sexually assaulted (groped), and even raped, but since "sluts don't get to say no," I didn't even know what had happened until much later. Therefore, when I started talking about it, no one believed me.
I'm a 35-year-old woman who still bears the scars from the sexual bullying that I endured for years. I was 12 when it started, long before I had even kissed a boy, and only because I was friends with a lot of guys, and their girlfriends got jealous and hostile. Later people just shared the stories, because that is what you do with gossip. When I finally began to develop it was an overnight thing, one day nada, the next day 36 C, and then people really felt the need to discuss me. The level of rumors that went around stemmed from the relatively normal go-to's of "she's pregnant" or "she cheated" to the completely absurd. I was sexually harassed, sexually assaulted (groped), and even raped, but since "sluts don't get to say no," I didn't even know what had happened until much later. Therefore, when I started talking about it, no one believed me. People also used the story of my rape to further my reputation as a slut, which was re-victimization to a degree that I still don't like thinking about. This went on well past graduation, in fact, when I came home for one of my friend's graduations the year after my own graduation, I was asked by a half dozen people that first day if I was pregnant, because they had heard that I was. I had left home, and they were still talking about me. I stopped coming home to visit, I just couldn't deal with it. My favorite part of the whole ordeal is that people still constantly tell me to "just get over it", like it's no big deal that at the time that I was supposed to be forming my identity, people told vicious lies about my sexual life over and over again, for years, turning me into a pariah! I'd love to ask how you keep that from affecting you? I am stronger for all that I went through, I understand that... However, it has made me hyper-aware of how I'm perceived by others to this day. It isn't that I care about what they think about me or even what they say about me now, and I'm the first person to call out slut-shaming (to the extreme annoyance of everyone that I know), I just can't help but take in the looks and whispers. (I should also share that I had to move back to my hometown recently, bringing it all back to the surface for me, right around the time you started sharing your journals.) The biggest problem for me stems from the fact that it seems like that ugly name follows me without even being said. Men don't want to date me or form a relationship, they only want to sleep with me, and I don't know how to deal with that. It is as if the label permeates to my core, and that scarlet letter glows. Within relatively recent history I have been groped at work, my perceived sex life has been discussed, and I've even been coerced into sexual activity, something that I thought I was past as an adult... What all of this has taught me is that I do not let anyone tell me who I am now. I know that I'm a loyal friend who is intelligent and funny, that I deserve good things from life, and no one can take that away from me. My sexuality is my own, and it is not up for discussion. My history is just that, history, but some of it still stings, as past hurts often do. Unfortunately, it took me a really long time to get there, and there are still times as mentioned above where some of that strength slips from me. Thank you for everything you do! - B
None of this was my fault. I took care of myself the best way I knew how, and nothing about me, other than the fact that I am a woman, brought on his behavior.
When I was 24, I went out on a date with an attorney/actor (who would later go on to be prosecuted for a federal crime and lose his law license). When we were driving away from the restaurant where we had had dinner, he put his hand on my leg, tried to pull my hand to his penis, and asked me if I wanted to go back to his place. I was afraid of him because he kept it up even after I took his hand off my leg and let him know sex wasn't going to happen. Finally I snapped at him, "You're a fast mover, aren't you!" and he said, "It's you. It's all your energy." It made me sick. He was saying something about me MADE him act disgusting. He walked me to the door when we got back to my place and he proceeded to grope me and grind his groin against me until I was able to pull myself away from him. I blamed myself for letting him walk me to the door. I blamed myself for being such a twisted person that I would attract someone like him. I blamed myself for not punching him in the teeth. None of this was my fault. I took care of myself the best way I knew how, and nothing about me, other than the fact that I am a woman, brought on his behavior. - Mary
As a 15-year-old boy I remember finding out that my then girlfriend (also 15) was being called a slut because a rumor was going around our school that we were sexually active... At over 50 now, it has never ceased to appall me what happened then and that it continues to happen.
As a 15-year-old boy I remember finding out that my then girlfriend (also 15) was being called a slut because a rumor was going around our school that we were sexually active. I can still remember clearly my confusion that the rumor would produce different outcomes for us given it was about something we had both supposedly been doing. I was appalled and could find no way to defend her adequately from the hurt she suffered, made worse in some way by the apparent approval I received. It was my first personal exposure to the power of that word, and its impact on people. At over 50 now, it has never ceased to appall me what happened then and that it continues to happen. I have sacked someone from his job for referring to a co-worker as a slut in my hearing, that made me feel I had done something about it but I doubt that it truly fixed it for that person although it did make everyone else aware that it was an issue in that workplace. I have raised two sons with the understanding that is a forbidden word. That whilst language is situational and swearing may be more or less acceptable in differing circumstances, that word has no place in any circumstance. Reading the accounts on this page has bought back back that confusion I felt all those years ago although tempered with a sad degree of cynicism about others. - Ian
Some girls at my school started a MySpace (remember that???) page called "[My name] is a whore!!!" And they posted untrue stories about my sexual life.
When I was in seventh grade, I was viewed as "easy". All the guys talked to me and I soon realized it wasn't because of my personality. All the girls thought I was a "slut", and they said it to my face. I remained a virgin through all of this, but rumors always went around about how I slept with people all the time. Some girls at my school started a MySpace (remember that?!) page called "[My name] is a whore!!!" And they posted untrue stories about my sexual life (as if I had one). I realized all my "guy friends" weren't my friends at all, and that I should start over in high school. In high school, I started hanging out with a new group of friends and focused on school and chorus. It got me out of the "slut" image!!! Anyone who is a victim of slut shaming CAN get through it. Don't let bullying or sexual shame get to you! What other people say doesn't matter, all that matters is what YOU think. All you need is to be happy, healthy, and comfortable with yourself and your body. <3 :)
I tried so hard to defend myself and my pride but by the end I began to believe them. I remember thinking "Maybe they're right, maybe I am a slut and I haven't realized it."
Last year I was in seventh grade and in the summer I was being called names by a group of boys. They began to call me slut and other names that are very similar. Slowly, the rumor of me being a slut began to spread. I was the school's biggest gossip piece, slowly girls began to call me names as well. It spread so quickly. That's when boys began to touch me. By my grade's lockers I had the lowest locker and I would need to bend down. This made the boys touch me and grab me. I tried so hard to defend myself and my pride but by the end I began to believe them. I remember thinking "Maybe they're right, maybe I am a slut and I haven't realized it." My mum ended up finding out and she told me that I can't let them beat me. I had to go up to my teachers and tell them what my grade had been saying about me. Soon the boys were getting in trouble and it spread like wildfire around my grade and that made my grade hate me even more for getting their friends in trouble. I was so miserable, I felt terrible. I hated my parents at the time for making me tell my teachers. I thought I could handle it, turns out I was making it worse. I let people walk all over me. Then I read your diary and I was so inspired. Reading it made me realize that I wasn't alone. I found it on Christmas eve, and I had finished it by Christmas morning. Honestly that was one of the best things I could get for Christmas. It made me realize that I'm not alone and there are others out there who have gone through what I have and recovered perfectly. Thank you Emily Lindin. :)
He turned some of my friends as well as his friends against me and they all spread rumors about me being a slut. I started self-harming again, dangerously bad because I had such a low sense of self-worth.
In eighth grade I had my first boyfriend. A week after we started dating, he tried to get me to kiss him but I didn't want to so I said no. That was a Friday. On Monday, I was waiting for my mother to pick me up from school and he pinned me against the wall underneath the stairs. He said he wouldn't let me go until I kissed him. I refused. A bunch of people walked past us at different times but they just gave us looks or laughed or spurred him on. Nobody thought to help me. I kept telling him no but he wouldn't listen. So he forced his lips onto mine and I froze because I was so frightened. Then he let go of me and smiled like he was happy and proud of himself. He said bye and left me there under the stairs, shocked and scared. I went back to the lobby and the secretary asked me if I was okay because apparently one of the parents saw me and mentioned it but nobody bothered to actually come and see what was going on. I didn't want to seem weak, so I told her I was fine and went outside to wait for my mother. To anyone who reads this, doing nothing does NOT make you weak. I was afraid and shocked, but I was not weak. Then freshman year I started dating a boy who was a junior. I was 14 and he was 17. Five months after we started dating, which was two months after I turned 15 years old, he asked me to have sex with him. I told him I didn't want to, and he said it was fine, but his entire demeanor toward me became mean. So I gave up, because by then I was a self-harmer for a long time and my body didn't mean much to me, and I was afraid that he might hurt me. We dated for six months after that, and in that time I had sex with him many times only because I was afraid he would leave me and I couldn't stand being alone because I already felt so abandoned (I had moved recently due to the death of my mother and lost all my old friends due to the move), and I was afraid that he might actually hurt me because he was short-tempered and often made me feel threatened. One week before our 1 year anniversary he dumped me through text saying he no longer loved me. Then he started telling all his friends I was a slut and a whore, and they all believed him and agreed. It really hurt because some of them were friends with me before that happened and some of them were even my friends first. So he turned some of my friends as well as his friends against me and they all spread rumors about me being a slut. I started self-harming again, dangerously bad because I had such a low sense of self-worth. They made me believe I was even more worthless than I already thought. When I started dating another boy seven months later, I felt like I was keeping a dirty little secret and actually felt the need to APOLOGIZE to him about my previous relationship because I felt so dirty and used. That relationship didn't last, neither did the next. I am currently single because I've realized that I'm not ready to be in a relationship after everything that has happened to me. It's been 20 months since he started those rumors about me, and even though people haven't gossiped about me in the halls for long over a year, thoughts of him still haunt me. But I have to be strong, because I have a younger sister who looks up to me and I have to be strong for her. If you think really hard, you'll realize that you have someone to be strong for, too. We all do. So stay strong and don't let someone make you feel weak or inferior or scared. Your body belongs to you and no one has the right to touch it without your permission. - Anastasia
This is you now - repulsive trash. This is you now because this is what everyone keeps telling you you are. And it's your fault.
PTSD feels like a black hole. One that you try your best to climb out from only to feel yourself sink back into. You open your eyes everyday and want to turn off the sun. The mirrors in your house become enemies, showing you how tired and worthless you feel. Your skin crawls and feels heavy every time you go outside. Every time someone brushes up against you, every social interaction feels disgusting. It feels like you've just dunked yourself into the filthiest, most repugnant dumpster you've ever had the misfortune to smell in your life, you run a mile with the slime against your skin, you sleep in it for two weeks, and then try to just go on with your daily life without the ability to wash it off. Because you can't. Because this is you now - repulsive trash. This is you now because this is what everyone keeps telling you you are. And it's your fault. And you had better just stop crying about it. That's what PTSD felt like to me. I had gone through a year and a half of therapy to repair the trauma of a sexual assault against me by a teacher when I was seven, only to be raped by a friend in a state of vulnerability in the middle of my healing. I wanted to be angry for a long time. At my parents, at my friends, at anyone who told me they were "so sorry". It all seemed very hopeless. I tried to file a report with the police but they scoffed at my inability to speak in full sentences about my experiences. I tried to tell my family but they were so ashamed of themselves they couldn't bear to keep on about the subject. I tried to tell my friends but they were at a loss for words apart from their apologies. I just wanted to find him. I wanted to find this teacher and tell him what a piece of shit he was. I wanted to find him and tell the world what a monster he was. But I couldn't find him and no one could help me find him. One friend actually told me he could find him. I was drunk and crying, spilling my guts. Next thing I know, I'm passed out waking up periodically, trying to put my clothes back on only to have him take them off again. This time I wasn't going to let this go. While I was still too fragile to go to the police again (what with the way they reacted the first time), I decided to find help sooner another way. I told my friends. I found support. And when I was ready I found him and I told him everything I wanted to tell my first attacker. I told him that I wished scum like him didn't walk the earth. That if there were fewer people like him everyone could sleep easier. That no one knows what he is but I did and I felt sorry for the people he was fooling because they wouldn't realize what he was until it's too late. That I know in my heart he will die alone and with no one to genuinely love him because he has a rancid soul. And as I walked away, I could breath a sigh of relief. It wasn't jail time, it wasn't a formal punishment, but it was enough for me for the time being. Yes, it was so hard for people to understand. I felt alone for a long time. After years of recounting the tale no one wanted to listen any more. Everyone just wanted me to be okay. At this point in my life I don't hold these things against those people. I wish still some days that I had gotten formal justice for the crimes that were committed against me. I support causes such as this one and blog about my recovery in an attempt to dole out consolation and advice. Because for me, while my struggle was long and the healing arduous, I have come to accept that the things (though many) that have occurred in my life do not define who I am. I don't stand by the label of "survivor" because to be a survivor at one point you must have been a victim. I also don't care to victimize myself. Yes, these things that have happened to me were horrible. But the events are no longer occurring, and to fully progress and move forward I can't sit here and beg justice from a world that can never provide it. I find justice now solely in my own recovery, happiness, and peace. I win everyday that I continue to move on with my life, what I want, without revolving around what has happened. I'm not a victim, a survivor, or a hero. I was raped twice in my life and I've come to terms with that fact. I know that our flawed laws, judicial systems, and society need help in achieving ways to prevent these things from happening. But until then, I'm happy knowing that what's happened is now behind me and that I can be of some comfort to those who need it as they're healing. There are always going to be bad people in the world. The best thing you can do is find the good ones and support each other.
I've never dressed in "inappropriate and revealing" clothes, and I don't see what that has to do with being a slut anyway.
I've been in a monogamous relationship with my boyfriend for almost a year. His one friend calls me a slut/whore, and I still have no clue why, despite him being serious or joking. In middle school, my classmates would call me one just because I have a dirty humor. I've never dressed in "inappropriate and revealing" clothes, and I don't see what that has to do with being a slut anyway. I'm so sick of getting shit for no reason.
When I denied them, the guys would spread rumours about me that I was slut and I was after them.
On several occasions in my life a guy friend has come on very aggressively to me. Each time this happened and I denied them, the guys would spread rumours about me that I was slut and I was after them. What was more shocking is that so many people, both guys and girls, would jump in to support them. - Lucie
There was a rumor about me being pregnant and people called me a slut all the time and I hated it.
When I was in 7th grade, I had an older "boyfriend" if you could call him that. I prided myself for some reason in being openly inappropriate even though I'm still incredibly lacking in sexual experience. Anyways, one day someone came up to me and asked me how my baby was doing. Completely serious. My BABY? I haven't even made out with a guy, let alone had sex. There was a rumor about me being pregnant and people called me a slut all the time and I hated it. Even though I kind of brought it upon myself (?) I hated it. I got it resolved but my reputation was scarred for a while.
It may have come from the way I was raised, but there is no excuse for treating someone badly just because they choose to embrace their sexuality.
I have slut shamed one of my best friends. I grew up in a family where anything having to do with sex was repressed. I always thought that people, girls specifically, were dirty if they did anything sexual. It was in middle school that I met the girl I slut shamed. We were inseparable until our early years of high school when she started hanging out with more and more boys. When she first started doing sexual things I freaked out. I ignored her for weeks because I was convinced she was a "dirty slut." I told all our friends that she was easy. She hadn't even had sex yet and I was calling her these terrible things. It may have come from the way I was raised, but there is no excuse for treating someone badly just because they choose to embrace their sexuality. Our friendship near dissolved completely until recently. She is one of the sweetest people I have ever known. I still feel guilty for treating her like that over nothing.
I am not prude for not wanting to do certain things, a guy isn't gay for respecting a girl and nobody should be judged or degraded due to their sexual activity.
I was either classified as a prude or gay (bear in mind, it was hard enough figuring out my sexuality without having people submissively label me) in middle school and high school. One of my first boyfriends would talk about how "hot" other girls were and who had the "nicest body," which naturally made me feel insecure. He ended up breaking up with me, his idea of affection ultimately involving more than kissing or treating someone right. In high school, my guy "friends" would ask me personal things regarding how far I would go with someone, I didn't answer and I was labeled prude, lesbian (once again, not an insult), and somebody even told the boy I really liked that I had "baggage" due to that previous relationship. I ended up going out with this boy and I really trusted him, I didn't feel comfortable doing certain things and he claimed he understood. I felt like there was something wrong with me. It wasn't natural for me to hold back. Eventually, he cheated on me with a senior. That was a great way to spend my freshman year. After being put on the spot about my sexuality at a party, I stopped hanging out with these friends and did successfully forget about this ex-boyfriend, but this bad experience led to my knowledge about slut shaming and sexual bullying. I am not prude for not wanting to do certain things, a guy isn't gay for respecting a girl and nobody should be judged or degraded due to their sexual activity.
I was "the slut of the town". Many boys thought that they could be with me just because "I was f*cking a foreign boy".
I grew up in a little town and I suffered a bullying situation at school. When I was 15 years old, I started a relationship with a boy. I am Spanish but he was from another European country. Massive immigration was starting in Spain and the town was welcoming many foreign people. They were considered bad people, thieves, mafia, and many other things. But he was a normal boy, someone who went to another country to get a better job and a better life. When our relationship was just in the first week, everyone in the town knew that a native girl was dating a foreigner boy. The people from my town (even the ones who were my age) looked at that like something terrible, and thinking that he was introducing me to a criminal world. It was not true. But instead of harassing him (who was, supposedly, a bad person) everybody took their anger out on me. It is an example of the sexism that women suffer in little towns. So I suffered terrible bullying consisting of insults, told to me or written in my notebooks. When I was walking in the street, people shouted to me horrible things. And I didn't understand why. So I was "the slut of the town". Many boys thought that they could be with me just because "I was f*cking a foreign boy". I have never understood the relationship between my private life and being a slut, or why having a relationship with a foreign boy could be a crime. Unfortunately, the situation was unsustainable for me so I decided to move to a big city, the capital of the province. But before that, I have been receiving counseling treatment. Nowadays, many girls from the town have relationships with foreign boys, they have children with them, or they have been pregnant but they didn't give birth to their children. Now it is considered a bad thing, but not as bad as before. I was a pioneer with that kind of relationship and all the village anger was thrown at me. Right now, seven years after, I can't go to my town. People remember my "lifestyle" so the insults start again. But not to the other girls. I haven't been in my town for 3 years. As I said, I tried but the situation started again. Maybe if I go right now, nothing will happen, but just when I think about it, I get nervous and panic. Could I ever go back? Could I have a normal life there? Could I go on holidays and enjoy the festivities? Maybe I will never know, because I am a criminal, and my crime was having a "unusual" relationship. Now I am 22 years old and I am living in a big city in Spain. Here, having a foreigner boyfriend is something absolutely normal.
He dismissed the protection order, all because the judge agreed that I'm a slut, undeserving of any protection or sympathy.
When I was 22, I became friends with a dangerous man, JC. At the time, I was trying to escape an abusive relationship with a man I'll call SP that had gone on since high school. JC saw the vulnerable position I was in and how I was completely isolated without any support system. We were platonic for months until he pushed me to become sexually involved with him. The first time was not consensual since I was too intoxicated to resist or remember. I never intended to start sleeping with him. However, my abusive long-term partner, SP, had called me a slut so many years, I automatically blamed myself. I convinced myself JC and I must have romantic feelings for each other for the first incident to happen. This toxic new "friendship" with JC continued as I became increasingly aware that he is a dangerous felon with violent, jealous tendencies, even more vitriolic than SP. I would tell JC I no longer wanted to sleep with him but he would wear me down every time. I was afraid of both men and that, if either became enraged, someone was going to get hurt. Having been abused by SP for so long, I was completely isolated and saw nowhere to get help. Finally, after trying to back away slowly for months from both of these men, I told JC I was cutting off our physical involvement for good. That night, he sent SP a text message to incite a jealous rage. JC then took my phone and keys and hid them saying I wouldn't be safe leaving since SP would get me. JC knew if I left I'd have nowhere else to go. He then trapped me against my will for over 12 hours. In that time, he demanded sex over and over, dozens of times. As I refused, he became increasingly violent until I feared for my life. I had to stop resisting if I wanted to survive. JC then proceeded to rape me repeatedly as the night went on. I was too afraid to go to the police. I also blamed myself, that none of this would have happened if I wasn't a slut. SP finally left me alone and moved away. However, JC continues to stalk me, re-traumatizing me every time. I've received an official PTSD diagnosis and symptoms persist almost four years after the worst incident. Two summers ago, JC came to my professional school to become a patient as soon as I entered the clinical portion of my doctorate program. By then, the protective order laws had changed in my home state to allow someone to take one out against a previous romantic partner without having to share children or a residence with the person, and without having to press additional charges. Before I testified in court to get a protective order, I was warned the judge was extremely disapproving of premarital sex. The commonwealth attorney told the judge she believed me and was ready to prosecute for the abduction and rape. JC had an attorney who didn't even deny that the rape occurred. The attorney actually said, "Some may say rape is an injury, but he didn't actually hurt her." The judge was buying none of it and was on my side until JC brought a witness forward who said I "kind of had another boyfriend." At that point the judge said, "You put him in that situation. You can't really stop him if he wants to come to your school." He then dismissed the protection order, all because the judge agreed that I'm a slut, undeserving of any protection or sympathy. Now I'm about to become a licensed healthcare professional. Wherever I work will be public knowledge. All JC will have to do is search my name online to find me the next time. I have no confidence he wouldn't hurt me again. Regardless, the PTSD symptoms are a still a daily struggle, especially knowing I am still vulnerable.
He broke up with me a little while after, and proceeded to tell the entire school about our little fling. I heard so many people talking about how they were going to ask me to date them just so they could fuck me.
My middle school (and ninth grade) years were never very good to me. I was always known as being a slut, an attention seeker, dirty. While I really never did much with boys at the time, I always seemed to have rumors flying around about me. My mother was also no help, always telling me how slutty and stupid I was, and that I should at least ask for payment before dressing like a whore, and so on. It wasn't long before I started to slowly believe what she said, and considered myself no better than some hooker, because that was obviously all my mother thought I was capable of being. The fact that my mother thought this low of me was one of the hardest aspects for me, because that meant even when I would go home, I would still be called a slut. I always got along a little better with boys, because I wasn't ever really into gossip or makeup like the other girls in my grade. I had girl friends too, but if they ever started to become too "girly", I would go find my other guy friends to talk to. I was also never very shy or easily embarrassed. As you probably know, middle schoolers don't tend to be very mature, as much as they'd like to be, and any sort of mature topic we'd come across, I would react very calmly towards, which somehow proved to my friends that, because I was seemingly okay with all this stuff, it meant I had already had experience with it. I was also somewhat of a shameless flirter, and prided myself, much as you did, in being able to manipulate boys. Not my best talent, really. I never tried to get into trouble or start drama, but it somehow always followed me around. In 8th grade, my best guy friend, who I was quite in love with, started dating my best girl friend, who I then started to hate. She stopped talking to me for about 6 months, on her own accord, and I "wasn't allowed" to talk to my other best friend, because she'd become jealous. I lost both of my best friends for a good chunk of that year, and I was absolutely heartbroken from the both of them. I was quite spiteful, and along with the most gossipy girls in my grade, started a horrific string of rumors about her, calling it "Project Ruin Miriam's Life". I'm not sure if she knew it was me, at the time, but she cried in school quite often, and no one was friends with her at the time. She had started to cut herself after they broke up, and he starting doing drugs. (She hasn't cut herself since, thankfully, but I still worry about her sometimes. My best guy friend still does drugs, and I don't have very much contact with him, because he switched schools.) My ninth grade year was an absolute mess. I was rumored to be some sort of terrible whore, anyone could ask me out and I'd date you, maybe even fuck you in the band room when no one was around, which I had heard about myself far too many times. My friends had all started to resent me as well, thinking that I was very easy. They all left me at one point in time. I felt very alone a lot of the time, and I didn't really know what to do with myself. I didn't know very much, I hadn't really had a serious boyfriend before this and wasn't sure what to expect. When I got to high school and suddenly had upperclassmen boys coming from all over flirting with me, I was flattered, and thought very highly of myself, not really understanding that none of them had that good of intentions. The last boyfriend I had in ninth grade, I stayed with throughout the summer, as well. We went to third base, but he always told me he didn't want to have sex, so I never said anything about it. He was very into the idea of us at the beginning, or so it seemed, but as our relationship went on, it seemed to be more physical than anything, and simple jokes from me would be blown out of proportion and turned into him being angry and me apologizing for something that I wasn't even sure was wrong. I had told him once, truthfully, that I loved him, and he never once said it back. Thankfully we weren't in school at the time, so I didn't have to hear all of the slutty things I was supposedly doing, but when he abruptly broke things off, I was, needless to say, heartbroken. When I got back to school, everyone knew about what we had done, and he started rumors about me, telling people how much he hated me, and he ended up ignoring me that whole year. I had no idea what he possibly could hate me for. I hadn't done anything to him, and I was still very heartbroken, so I didn't confront him about it until I had completely moved on. Everyone thought I was even more of a slut, if that was even possible, and with my sister gone, who had graduated the year earlier, I was left to fend for myself. I couldn't avoid the dirty looks or the snide remarks. I struggled to keep my temper, my tears, my emotions. I felt betrayed, I felt totally alone. The moments spent alone were the worst. I kept my head high and my mouth shut. I was no longer the flashy, happy person from last year. I wouldn't talk as much, kept to myself more, and my grades fell. I didn't care anymore. I wasn't taking care of my education at all. I found no reason to. But I found an angel hidden in my life. I found one of my truly greatest friends in the person I would least expect. The quietest friend of mine, who was also super smart and innocent, became my rock. She was always the third voice, the impartial view, who would never judge me and would always believe what I told her, and I never lied to her. She helped me more than she knows. When I felt I had no one, she was always there for me. I could vent to her, cry on her, whatever, she was there. But she was very busy, and with strict parents, I almost never got to see her outside of school, which made other aspects of my life harder, like being on sports teams full of bitchy girls who hated me. I dated a guy from another school for a while, which was awesome for me, because no one knew him at my school, and no one knew me at his school. We were very close and also only went to third base, but we were good friends as well. We weren't together on a physical basis only, it was more. We were doing really well together, until a hot senior approached me and asked me out. I told him no, politely, because I already had a boyfriend, and he insisted that we could just hang out, as friends. All of the people I knew that knew him warned me not to become "friends" with him. He would just end up hurting me. He was manipulative, and cunning, and he really didn't care about much more than getting some action. I didn't listen, naturally, I was convinced that I knew better, even though I barely knew the guy, and I went with him after school one day to his house. We were completely alone, watching a movie, and I was trying as hard as I could to stay a good distance away from him, until he suddenly grabbed me and kissed me. Basically right after that I told him I wanted to leave and he obliged. He knew I had a boyfriend, and he kissed me anyways. I was completely riddled with emotions, angry at him for kissing me, ashamed that I had even went, sad for the boyfriend I would have to tell, scared for what the outcome would be when I did tell. I decided that I should just break up with him. In my mind, there would be no chance that he would want to be with me after I technically cheated, even though it wasn't my fault, and I just wanted to get it over with before he could. He and I were both trying not to cry as we said our goodbyes. (To this day I still miss him a lot. I tried to write him a few times, but I'm almost certain he wouldn't want anything more with me, and I understand why.) The same senior asked me out about a week after I broke up with my boyfriend, and I said yes about 2 weeks after that. We were definitely only in it for the physical aspects. He was always pushing for more. He would tell me we could go slow, he would never pressure me, etc., but I could feel the pressure in his actions and his words, his random PDA, everything. He would ask me about sex, and I was never really sure about it, so I always just said no. After two weeks of dating, I got tired of the pressure and just said yes. I thought, 'why not? It's not as if being a virgin means much to me anyways. I might as well get it over with.' He broke up with me a little while after, and proceeded to tell the entire school about our little fling. I heard so many people talking about how they were going to ask me to date them just so they could fuck me, or how easy I was for doing it with such an asshole. After being asked by three people if I would have sex with them, I told them that if one more person asked, I would beat the shit out of them. Being the athletic girl that I am, I was quite threatening, despite the apparently good figure I had that drew in boys. No one asked anymore, but I heard the whispers and the rumors still. After that graduation, I stayed single. Many guys tried stuff in summer, but I never agreed to anything. I didn't want to deal with boys. I decided to do something different. I applied for, and won, a scholarship to study abroad in Germany for a year. Deciding I needed a break from drama, I took it and, that's where I am now. I can look back on everything, see where my mistakes were, and learn from them. I'm going into my senior year next year, at a different school, and I really don't know what to expect. I hope to leave my past behind. No one likes to be called a slut, or any other bad name, no matter how much we pretend it doesn't hurt us. This year is proving to be a pretty good stress reliever, and I can say that even though I'm nowhere near being grown up, I've learned a lot. I'm no stupid kid anymore. I've learned to be me, and I've learned a little more about who to trust. Although, I've still got a lot to learn, of course. Your story means a lot to me. It reminds me so much of me. If you've read this far, I just want to say thank you. I know how it feels to be shamed and ridiculed with titles like slut and whore, and I want to help others so that they never have to go through what I did. I really admire this project. :) We're not alone in this. <3
A girl as great as the one I was with felt afraid to tell me about ONE prior sexual partner. This speaks volumes to the level of change this society still needs to make.
Today, I had a relationship of four or five months end. Thankfully, I am able to say we both ended it maturely, despite a few frowns and tears on my part. Despite what is a pretty drab day, I can look at it as I reflect with a sense of pride. Though I am still in college and have much to experience in life, I have learned so much about women over the past few years. A year or two ago, breakups like this would have been volatile. Name calling and slut shaming would have occurred, considering that is often the easiest place below the belt to hit. However, today actually felt more like an enlightenment rather than a depression because of the way we both conducted ourselves. As noted, I have had my history of slut shaming, as I'd expect any teenage boy or girl prior to this sudden and much needed movement to have grown out of. What I'd like to share is not any of those stories, but rather a little message about the girl I was with. To make a long story short, I believed she was a virgin for a few months before she revealed to me that she was not as we started getting deeper into our relationship. She felt afraid to tell me because she'd be viewed as a "slut." While the revelation did trip me up for an hour or two, it wasn't me being upset that my first time wouldn't be "our" first time. I was more upset over the fact that such a great girl with excellent character could feel so ashamed over having sex with someone she believed was worth it at the time. This is all rather sprawling and perhaps a bit of venting over a rough day, but I wanted to share that bit to show what needs to change. Sex is human and to be enjoyed equally by whatever gender. Sex has no reflection on your moral fiber and I was with a prime example of that. A girl as great as the one I was with felt afraid to tell me about ONE prior sexual partner. This speaks volumes to the level of change this society still needs to make. One, two, twelve, fifty, whatever... the numbers don't matter. Your happiness matters. Apologies for the stream of consciousness style. I'd just like to show the range of shame this society can bring down on the most unexpected people. Today, I learned about my own maturity and learned the fixes we need to make. What someone does with their body should only be their business and their choices. What matters is your love and respect for them as a person. Sex neither makes or breaks a person. Love them for who they are and don't let an unfair societal standard break that for you.
Nothing mattered except her “SLUT” status. Her grades dropped, she barely went to school, she invited even more boys into her bed, just hoping that one of them would look at her and see how amazing she is.
My sister was the “slut”. When I went into middle school, things were easy for me. I had already had my two older brothers go through the same school, where they had been well liked all around. My older sister was a year ahead of me, then, and was already captain of the cheer team. I was happy—I had a “boyfriend”, I was on the basketball team, and had what I THOUGHT was a solid group of friends. During my 7th grade year and my sister's 8th grade year, things changed. My sister and I had both developed pretty early on, and when it came to being sexually active, my sister was already into exploring her options. My parents taught us to be open about who we are, and to not look down on ourselves for our urges, despite our Christian upbringing. So, when my sister ended up losing her virginity in the 8th grade I was shocked and maybe a little confused, but not disappointed. On the other hand, things spiraled quickly out of control. The week after it happened, rumors began flying around. Someone apparently had seen my sister with her boyfriend, when they were at a party, and someone had taken a PICTURE. They documented what was supposed to be a special night in my sister's life. By Wednesday, I couldn’t walk down the hall without hearing “Lenny’s such a slut”. It was written on the bathroom walls, scratched into her locker, even written in Sharpie on the back of her cheer uniform by one of her teammates. My sister was devastated. It didn’t take long for her to fall from the top of the pyramid to the lowest on the totem pole. Suddenly my “friends” were telling me they didn’t want to come over if my sister would be there and if they invited me to a party, it was always made very clear that my sister was NOT invited, under any circumstances. Her boyfriend at the time was quick to step up to all the rumors—“Yes,” he said, they did have wild sex for three hours. “Yes,” he said, she was totally kinky. “Yes,” he said, she’s a lot looser than her little sister. “Yes,” he said, we’ve had sex a hundred times. They were all lies, all stories made up by some sick and twisted thirteen and fourteen year olds that thought it was OKAY to hurt my sister, just because she had the audacity to be sexually active. It didn’t matter that she got straight A’s and maintained a perfect GPA, was captain of the cheer team, Student Body Secretary and volunteered to help with the disabled kids. All that mattered was one moment of lust for a boy she thought she loved and it was over. Nothing mattered except her “SLUT” status. And that’s not okay. I saw what it did to my sister. I saw the toll it took. Her grades dropped, she barely went to school, she invited even more boys into her bed, just hoping that one of them would look at her and see how amazing she is. None of them looked at her. None of them SAW her for the amazing girl she was, and the amazing woman she is now. Currently, my sister is graduating high school early this year and will be HOPEFULLY going to the college of her choice, once she gets her acceptance letters. The battle against this “slut” status is far from over, and to be quite honest, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the first time someone told me my sister was a slut.
I was raped by my mom's ex and his best friend. People were calling me "slut," "whore," "nasty," "gross," "useless," so I started self-harming.
Hi my name is Caitlyn and this is my story: I am currently in the 8th grade and I am 13. A few years ago I was raped by my mom's ex and his best friend. My mom never found out until last summer. In 7th grade I told one of my "best friends" about it and then it spread around the whole school like a wildfire. People were calling me "slut," "whore," "nasty," "gross," "useless," so I started self-harming. Nobody liked me. Nobody talked to me or anything. During last summer someone started a hate page on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram about me and it got back to my mom. She immediately called the police and they got involved so I had to go in for questioning and that's when I had to tell my mom. She was disappointed that I didn't tell her but she understood. Well, during the summer we ended up moving to a different county, hoping that it would help, but it didn't. It caught up with me. I get bullied every day and I cry myself to sleep. I cut numerous times a day (which no one knows). I just don't wanna live but I don't wanna give my bullies the satisfaction of killing myself. I have to go to court next week and face my rapists which is scary, but I have to. If they are found guilty (which they are) they will be sentenced to 25 years in prison plus more if they raped anyone else. I know this is nothing like your story which I am currently reading, but it's similar. The hate page is still up and the police are currently trying to figure out who started it and take it down and that's my story.
If you know someone who might be spreading diseases or making themselves unhappy then at least try to talk to them in a caring way instead of calling them a slut and making them feel bad for their actions.
I would just like to say that I've personally never been called a slut or any titles that remotely refer to that word, but living in somewhat of a small town I hear many stories of who's sleeping with whom and people referring to the girl as a "slut." This really upsets me because guys can go out and sleep with whomever they choose with no problems, but a girl, even if it's her first time, will get ridiculed and bombarded with words such as "slut" because our virginity is seen as precious and a part of us that we have to hold onto until marriage. Anytime I hear or see a post on the Internet where a person is being referred to as a slut I step in immediately because there is no reason for the word. Firstly, girls should be allowed to control their body, it's THEIR BODY. Secondly, if guys are doing it girls have just as much of a right to do it themselves. Thirdly, I believe the concept of valuing a girl's virginity is totally bogus and a double standard. Lastly, stop caring about what others choose to do with themselves unless they are hurting themselves or others with their actions. If these girls are happy with the choices they make then leave them be, but if you know someone who might be spreading diseases or making themselves unhappy then at least try to talk to them in a caring way instead of calling them a slut and making them feel bad for their actions. - Melanie
I started questioning myself: “Am I a slut?” “No, I’m not.” “Why don’t they like me, then?”
I could say that I’ve slept with more guys than most of my friends have. It has never been because of insecurity or peer pressure, some of the times it was just about going with the situation, I was enjoying myself and felt like doing it. Some other times I really liked the boy and wanted to get sexually involved with him. By the time I was 18 I was blamed and named by a lot of people. I was considered an “easy girl” even though I’ve rejected a lot of boys who I didn’t like or just didn’t feel like “doing it” with them. Funny how these are the ones that keep trying to “get with me” and the ones that make up - and spread - rumours about me. At first I couldn’t see why boys and girls would not accept me, I wasn’t harming anybody, I’ve always put my friends first and never done anything I didn’t want to. I was very confident despite the rumours. It was hard to hear things about me especially from people I had never spoken to. My friends would say it was all about envy and I wanted to believe that, but deep inside I wasn’t as strong as I thought. I started questioning myself: “Am I a slut?” “No, I’m not.” “Why don’t they like me, then?” So I started to be insecure about myself, starting with my body. I struggled with bulimia and never told my parents or anybody about it. I was obsessed and that was killing me day by day. My sister had had anorexia and she caught me once and begged me to stop doing that cause she pretty much had screwed her life up by degrading herself and having stopped eating. That’s when it hit me. I was stronger than that; I loved my sister more than anything in the world and I didn’t want to be so selfish as to put her in so much pain by watching me repeat her mistakes. It just wasn’t fair for her and it wasn’t for me either. I deserved to be happy. I had to believe it really was about envy or about this “modern” and somehow hidden male supremacy thinking that this society has. I needed that. So I put that aside. Now I realise, even though people have stopped calling me a slut or spreading more rumours (that I’m aware of), I still am damaged because of them. I have to be super careful with what I tweet or publish on the media and what I say. Even with boys I have to repress myself as if I had to follow some societal rules to not be called a slut again. When I meet new people I’m worried that they have heard the wrong version of me and don’t want to get to know me. I have a boyfriend now, who didn’t care about the rumours because he knew how I was and how I am, so it doesn’t affect me as much as it could but, in case I was single, why should I contain myself from doing whatever I want to do if it doesn’t harm anyone? Why do girls have to go through bullying experiences because of their sexual decisions? Why do I have to think “this skirt is too short” to prevent people from judging me? This double- standard of society is really hurting a lot of girls around the world. I’m really glad there are people that want to help them and contribute to this project. You can count on me for this.
Another girl who was popular in the summer camp liked the boy and that was enough, I started to be bullied.
I was in a summer camp with my brother and my best (female) friend when a boy kissed me for the first time. I was 13. The next day he didn't talk to me at all, but other boys and girls from the summer camp started to call me "slut" because of what happened the day before. Another girl who was popular in the camp liked the boy and that was enough, I started to be bullied. Even my brother and my best friend stopped talking to me. It continued like this for one week before someone talked to me and supported me, but bullying continued all during the summer camp (3 weeks more, 24 hours a day). I didn't kiss a boy again until I was 17 years old I and stopped talking about my sexuality for even more years. It was very painful for me. - Ana (Spain)
Me tachaban de "calentador", por el simple hecho de coquetear con chicos y luego no llevármelos a la cama. Es el otro extremo del bullying sexual y quería compartirlo con vosotros.
Soy una chica española y me he enterado del proyecto a través de la prensa. Me parece una idea genial, ya que cada vez hay más casos de bullying sexual y esto hay que pararlo. Cuando tenía 13 años mi mejor amiga perdió la virginidad. Y al poco, el resto de mis amigas. Para cuando teníamos 15 ya todas habían mantenido relaciones sexuales menos yo. Todas mis amigas, las chicas de mi instituto y las que conocía fuera. En este caso la "rara" era yo, y también sufrí burlas y acoso por ello. Yo no mantenía relaciones sexuales simplemente porque no quería. Es decir, yo tenía oportunidades, y ligaba mucho con los chicos, pero nunca me apetecía dar el paso y tener relaciones sexuales. Así que me tachaban de "calentador", por el simple hecho de coquetear con chicos y luego no llevármelos a la cama. Ahora tengo 19 años, he mantenido recientemente relaciones sexuales con mi novio, con el que pronto haré un año y no me arrepiento en absoluto de haberme negado hasta entonces. Es el otro extremo del bullying sexual y quería compartirlo con vosotros.
I participated in slut shaming... I haven't talked to her since the incident in 2007 and I probably never will.
I participated in slut shaming. I remember back when I was 13, I had a friend who had a crush on my classmate. I told the guy in my class that she was easy and would do anything. On the other hand, I told the girl that the guy loved her and was ready to be her boyfriend. I arranged their meeting. The guy didn't want anything to do with her but I told him she wouldn't mind getting physical, so the guy eventually complied. The girl wasn't sexually active at that time and she genuinely liked the guy. On their date, the guy kissed her on the cheek and they held hands. That's all that happened. I saw it, the guy's friends saw it. But what they told others was different from what they saw. Next day at school, she was ostracized from her friend group. The teachers disgraced her in front of the class. She changed 3 schools in four years but she couldn't escape from slut shaming. Whenever I tell someone what school I went to, they ask me if I have heard about her. They want to know all the juicy details. I haven't talked to her since the incident in 2007 and I probably never will. I do feel guilty for being the bitch I was. In reality the girl is still with her first boyfriend. They have been together since 2008 and she has never even dated anybody else.
I cut myself for a year and once people found out about that they just made fun of me more.
Hi, Emily. I am a 13 year old girl, and I read your diary. I felt very connected to your experience and during my time reading I was surprised how many relatable things there were. When I was in 6th grade, I wanted a boy to notice me so I started dressing very inappropriate for my age, I said things and did things I shouldn't have and I got the attention of boys at first but it was the wrong attention. Many people called me a "slut" but it didn't affect me till I was 12, that's when I started believing what everyone called me. Disgusting rumors spread about me and it surprised me, I always thought guys liked a slut for some reason, but everyone started to treat me poorly. I was called a slut, skank, easy, etc. nearly everyday. A boy I thought I was in love with at the time used me, and never spoke to me again. Everyone at school found out what I did and I was bullied non-stop about it for a year. I continued doing stuff with other boys because I thought that it'd make them like me but they always left me, and then more people would hate me. I had one friend but then she started to agree with everyone and I attempted to kill myself because I felt as if my life was over. I cut myself for a year and once people found out about that they just made fun of me more. But this year I changed my image, I stopped dressing provocatively, I focused on school, and stopped messing with boys but one time I made a mistake and everyone had the bad reputation on me again. I lost nearly all of my friends and everyone talked bad about me for a long time. Many people still call me a slut but I ignore most of them, because I know I'm not. I'm just a young girl who had made mistakes a little earlier than others. Your story made me feel like I was not alone and inspired me so much, especially seeing how successful you turned out to be. Thank you so much for publishing this, it helped me so much and has given me confidence and hope for my future.
I was often alone in my house and everybody knew that. One guy came in and when I asked what he was doing, he dared to say, "Relax, I'll kiss you and leave."
I am 20 and I live in India. Back when I was 13 and in 8th grade, I was tagged as a slut along with my friend. My friend had a crush on my other friend. During the school picnic my friend and her crush sat together and held hands. It was witnessed by me and the guy's friends. Winter break followed the school picnic. During that week of holidays, social networking sites were filled with cooked up stories involving threesomes, homosexuality, and what not. Apparently everybody had their own version of the story. School started and it got a lot worse. I was always the loner at school but the other girl was quite outgoing and she was also the subject of the stories so things were worse for her than they were for me. There was name calling, guys would come to us and make indecent advances. Girls wouldn't talk to us but they talked plenty about us behind our backs. The teachers saw us as "loose" girls. Discussions about our conduct were made in the PTAs by the "concerned" parents and the hypocritical and gossiping teachers. School was considerably safer than my home. I lived in the kind of neighborhood where nobody locked their doors and everybody knew everybody's business. I was often alone in my house and everybody knew that. One guy came in and when I asked what he was doing, he dared to say, "Relax, I'll kiss you and leave." I lost my first kiss to a chauvinist bastard. I did yell and kick and try to get out but he was strong. It has been more than 6 years since it happened and it's two years since I finished school but the scar is still fresh. The people and even my own friends do bring my "conduct" up and use it against me.
When I removed his hand and told him to get lost, all of a sudden I was a "stupid cunt," a "bitch," a "dumb fucking whore."
I have many stories, but one still stands out almost 10 years later. When I was younger, a man in a bar hit on me. He was drunk. Being compared to his home's screen door (because he'd "slam me all night long") would not have been a compliment even had he been sober. Having my value as a person reduced to another person's desire to one-night-stand my body is NEVER a compliment. On top of the insult of having such a horrible line used on me, he felt he had the right to drape his arm around my shoulder like I already belonged to him, like I was his property and sex with me was a fact established. As well, the reek of booze all over him was not attractive, even had I been single and looking. I like my partners completely lucid, nothing turns me off faster than a person who is not in control of themselves. By this man's logic, because I was a woman in the bar, I had to be asking for it and I had to be sexual chattel. When I removed his hand and told him to get lost, all of a sudden I was a "stupid cunt," a "bitch," a "dumb fucking whore," and I had the word "lesbian" thrown at me in such a venomous tone that there was not any doubt it was supposed to be an insult. All of this because I had the audacity to go to the bar my husband worked at so I could pick him up after his shift. All of this because I had no interest in this man, and he couldn't handle the rejection after he forced his attention on someone who didn't want it. I never felt like less of a human being in my life than I did that night.
I remember thinking in my mind, "People are going to think you are a slut!" And then I stopped... was I about to slut-shame my own daughter?! I took a step back and realized the script I was playing into.
I remember when my daughter received a hickey from her first boyfriend, it was in a very obvious spot on her neck. I was upset, even though I thought I would be a lot "cooler" about her foray into sexual experiences. But I wasn't, I was concerned about what people would say to her, or about her - she was 15 years old. On the tip of my tongue, I remember thinking in my mind, "People are going to think you are a slut!" And then I stopped... was I about to slut-shame my own daughter?! I took a step back and realized the script I was playing into. My daughter was not a slut. She was experimenting with sexual things with her first boyfriend and she hadn't realized that a mark was left. We talked about hickeys and what they are, why people give them and why they receive them, and I was honest about the possible backlash that she could encounter if people noticed that she was beginning sexual activity. And in the context of this very conversation, I talked with her about "slut-shaming" and what it meant to be "a slut" and how these ideas are shaped by the mixed and confusing messages young women receive about being a sexual person in today's society. Even for myself... how hard it was to go against that script when all of a sudden it was my daughter showing the beginning of her sexual self. Thankfully, I used this opportunity to really talk about these issues with her. It was also an eye-opener for me, because I've always thought I'm very open minded about sexuality and feminist issues. But... these things run deep. The best tools against this insidious mental conditioning are education and communication. Kudos to The UnSlut Project for opening up and continuing a dialogue about this issue.
They carried on about how nice he was, how he would never do anything like that. I lost all my friends, I lost respect from others and for myself.
I went to the University of Toronto hoping to have a wonderful college experience. Unfortunately, that wasn't at all what came to be. I was at a party in my first semester where I was sexually assaulted. I only had sex once in my life prior and completely blamed myself for the situation because I froze. I didn't realize at the time that I was acting on instinct, him being 6'4 and myself under 5'4. Yet immediately after the rumours spread throughout the college, and for a long time, I believed them. I was called a slut for having sex in the washroom by both girls and guys, by people who knew me and people I'd never met. A man started harassing me, encouraging the older students to chant 'slut' at me at parties. The man who sexually assaulted me started harassing me in public, yelling at me. When I went to my friends for support, they demonstrated how cruel girls can be, and sided with him. They carried on about how nice he was, how he would never do anything like that. I lost all my friends, I lost respect from others and for myself. Always described as an outgoing, warm and bubbly person, I spiraled into a deep depression and waking up and continuing with school and life seemed impossible. He was in my program and I was forced to see him in classes, at exams, and in my residence. I moved back home, I transferred to a different campus and have very few positive memories from my university experience. Four years later and after treatment, I have finally overcome what happened. I graduated my program in 4 years and graduated with lots of job offers and am so happy with where I am in life. I refuse to let those people be anything more in my life than they already have. What bothers me now, is that even today so many young women and men do not understand the severity of sexual assault. That highly educated young people can be so ignorant and forgiving. Rapists are criminals and sexual assault is criminal behaviour, however to me, the support of rape culture was almost just as horrible as the assault itself. Thank you very much for your work here.
His friends told everyone in the school, to the point where the story was that he had duct taped me to the wall and... had fun with me. All because he pulled down my gym shorts!
When I was in eleventh grade, we were running a mile on the field. A boy named Collin actually went up to me and pulled down my gym shorts! He went on to his friends, telling them some twisted story about how I did some kind of strip show for him when we were in a bathroom stall. His friends told everyone in the school, to the point where the story was that he had duct taped me to the wall and... had fun with me. All because he pulled down my gym shorts!
I was so miserable, contemplating suicide numerous times. I started believing in the rumors and questioning myself.
I'm 16. I was slut-shamed not too long ago... nearly a year ago in 2012-2013, all because of an rumor. My ex-boyfriend "Corey" started it. Around the time I met Corey (in summer school) I was in an long distance relationship, but Corey wouldn't leave me alone about going out with him. When school started in October I finally caved in and went out him. At first it was okay... nothing bad. He was actually kind of sweet, until he started wanting to get sexually involved. I'd make up excuses, but he kept asking me to come by his house. After a while, I realized that's all he wanted from me, so I cut him off. I didn't do anything with him, but he told his friends I had sex with him and that I gave him a blow-job. At first some of his friends asked me if it was true and I said no. But who would they believe? A girl they think is a foreigner and doesn't know anything about America (I lived in the Bahamas for 7 years and came back to America in mid 2012) or their "homeboy" they've probably know from middle school. I thought nothing of it, but rumors slowly started going around. His friends started calling me "bitch," "slut," "ho," "lame," and so on and so forth. Some of them would be nice to me one day and mean the other. And this boy I liked, he bullied me the most. He literally would call me a slut or stupid or always try to belittle me every time we had class together. It had gotten so bad to the point I stopped going to school. But my home environment wasn't a fairytale... it was hectic. Home and school made me slowly lose my mind. I felt like I had no one too turn to, so like you, I wrote in my diary. I was so miserable, contemplating suicide numerous times. I started believing in the rumors and questioning myself. "Maybe I AM a slut." "I'm too nice to everyone." "I should be mean like all the other girls." Wishing this nightmare could be over. Months later in 2013, the slut-shaming subsided. The only one who was calling me a slut every now and again was the boy I liked. He started being nice to me though. I got into a new relationship with a guy named Dre, but I left my old school and went to another one. A friend of mine told me, "Oh Dre's friend said you two banged," which wasn't true either. I felt like he, too, was using me. So I cut him off as well. It just made so angry. They probably think I'm a bigger slut now. I'm still so traumatized by the situation. Every decision I make is based around it. What I wear, who I talk to, who I hang out with, what I say, what I do. I have flashbacks of it, too, which hurts. I wish I could forget it. It's basically robbed me of my happiness and freedom. But your diary and work makes me feel hopeful. This is seriously long, I'm so sorry for this, but I want to say thank you Emily, for sharing your story, for wanting to take action against slut-shaming. I don't feel so alone anymore.
This was a seemingly trivial case; all that was at risk was an invitation to my birthday party. But it opened my eyes to what slut shaming will do in much more serious situations.
My story may sound like almost nothing, but at the time, it opened my eyes to what slut shaming is, where it comes from, and more importantly, who engages in slut shaming. I was organizing a joint birthday party with a girl from college, because our birthdays were close enough. When we started to go through the guest list, she pointed to a name asked me: "You invited HER?" "Yes," I said, "she's a good friend. What about her?" After a lot of beating around the bush, my friend said, "You know, she's a, well, you know…" "You wanted to say that she's a slut?" "Yes, that's what I wanted to say." That completely blew my mind. The woman I wanted to invite was sexually active, like many people are in college. What set her apart from a lot of people was that she was pretty open about it. When she felt like it, she'd go out and pick herself "one of the boys" — not strangers, since attending a tech college gave her plenty of male friends and acquaintances to choose from — or call one of her friends up: "Hey, what's up? Want to come over and have sex?" The arrangement was clear to all parties involved, and absolutely self-determined. I believe "friends with benefits" is the term. To hear this behavior called "slutty" was jaw dropping, especially at college. But most of all, I was absolutely stunned to hear another woman do it. I was able to explain to my friend that I found it completely unacceptable to call the invitee a "slut", and that of course, I would be inviting her still. And I believe she understood. But at that time I realized that women who have a self-determined, active sexuality will be slut shamed by all kinds of people. Not because what they do is wrong, but because it breaks out of a role that apparently is rooted deep in our society. And it's unnecessary to even say that had she been a guy, I doubt that anyone, certainly not the woman I hosted the party with, would have had any objections to it. This was a seemingly trivial case; all that was at risk was an invitation to my birthday party. But it opened my eyes to what slut shaming will do in much more serious situations.
When you are being cut down and bullied know that it is not because of anything that you did or are doing, it is because that bully hasn’t realized that hurting someone else doesn’t make them worth more, it makes them worth less.
I was thrilled when he called me, over the moon, heart pounding, breathless, ecstatic. It didn’t matter that he was my friend’s ex-boyfriend, in fact that almost made it better, like he was choosing me over her. My entire life I had been the weird one, even in my own family. As a child I was awkward, I had glasses, I wasn’t “pretty,” I wasn’t thin, I wasn’t rich, I didn’t fit in at the private school I attended. As I got older it only got worse, somewhere along the way I got labeled a dyke and I was never sure why. All I wanted was to be wanted, to be liked, by anyone, by everyone, and definitely by a boy. As teenagers and even as adults, we all want to be accepted by our peers. No one wants to feel the hurt and isolation of rejection. Unfortunately, at some point in our lives it happens to everyone. I think the most important advice I could give to anyone is to stay true to who they are, no matter what everyone else is saying. No one knows you better than you do and changing what you look like, how you act around other people won’t really make a difference. You are who you are, and that is all you need to be. Grade school, high school, even college, these are only tools to help you figure out what you want your life to be and sometimes tools have sharp edges. It is up to you to figure out how to use them to your advantage. I thought that when that boy called me it was a blessing from God. I jumped at the chance to “hang out” with him. I thought that finally I had been noticed, I had been accepted, I was good enough. When he kissed me I thought I was in heaven, I never wanted the moment to end. When he started to “fool around” and touch me I didn’t think it was a big deal. When he started trying to take off my clothes I wasn’t comfortable and tried to stop him. When he pushed me down and forced himself on me and said the thing that every TV or movie date rapist says, all I could do was scream "NO!! GET OFF ME!!" And when I felt the searing pain as he entered me and stole my virginity all I could do was lay there with tears streaming down my face. I cried the whole way home, totally shocked and trying to digest that he had just raped me. Was it my fault? At first I was excited. What do I do now? Would anyone believe me? Do I tell my parents? Will they be mad? Will THEY blame me? After two years I was able to confide in my best friend and another year later I was finally able to tell my parents, even if it was in a letter. We all want so badly to fit in, to be noticed. After that experience, all I wanted was to disappear into the background of this thing called my life. After 26 years this day still haunts me. But I am sharing this story in the hopes that someone out there will read it and recognize that being bullied damages your self-worth, sometimes to the point that you put yourself in dangerous positions just to be liked. If there is one lesson that you take from this, I hope that it is that you and you alone should determine your self-worth. And when you are being cut down and bullied know that it is not because of anything that you did or are doing, it is because that bully hasn’t realized that hurting someone else doesn’t make them worth more, it makes them worth less. - Sara
It made my life HELL and I got seriously bullied over it, and it basically left me with no friends, no network, all because of a chance and silly encounter with a rude and disrespectful person.
Hey everyone, I cannot believe that I have lived 24 years of my life and not already found a site like this, and I stumbled across it today. I battled through all my high school years because of a stupid sexual rumour that surfaced between me and a guy that I was seeing at the time. It made my life HELL and I got seriously bullied over it, and it basically left me with no friends, no network, all because of a chance and silly encounter with a rude and disrespectful person. I can admit, in hindsight, it was a mistake to get involved with a boy like that, and I paid the price for that mistake heavily. I became very isolated, the labeling led me to go down the promiscuous path even more (I started to just accept and believe this was what my life should be like). I am a very academic and spirited young adult, with a lot of vitality, hope and good ideas, but these people killed it for me for a number of years! I feel so sorry for anyone who committed suicide over this! I went into horrible cycles of depression and reckless behaviour that was only magnified by the social situation and isolation I found myself in. Ultimately it was my decision, but if I would have had the support and understanding, I may have been able to suffer less, and understand the error of my ways. I did not have a very good family support system either. I guess you live and learn with these things, but the most important thing for other girls going through this is to know that you are not alone, and not everyone is a horrible, judgmental bully, people can be quite understanding and forgiving of your mistakes. In my opinion, and with all the things I have been through, I learn not to judge others over these things, people can do as they wish, as long as they aren't harming themselves or others. There are open minded people out there that do have a lot more understanding than your average joe on the street who will sit there and call you names and try to make you feel worthless! It's hard, but you MUST stand up to these people, otherwise they can cause you great psychological damage! Love and support to anyone who is going through this, I have been there, and I hope you get through it! - Laura
My friend is still suicidal, the situation is the same as before, and sometimes I just have to ask myself, when will it ever stop?
I was in 6th grade when one of my friends started being bullied. The girl who had started the bullying was just awful. She used to rip apart people's homework, and just call everyone she disliked names. Now this girl was especially interested in my friend because my friend was dating the boy she was supposedly madly in love with. The girl bullied my friend physically and emotionally through the Internet and during school, making my friend suicidal. I had tried to alert the teachers about this situation but they simply ignored me. Finally, one of the teachers became aware of the bullying and after a bit of questioning not only found out that my friend had tried to kill herself but that other girls had, too. The bully was arrested and suspended for a month. But the thing is that even though she is closely watched by the teachers, the bullying hasn't stopped. My friend is still suicidal, the situation is the same as before, and sometimes I just have to ask myself, when will it ever stop?
No survivor should ever be made to feel crazy by law enforcement when she comes in and reports her assault.
I was raped at 17. I had never heard of anyone being raped the way I was, being forced to preform oral sex (which, at the time, was only considered sexual assault, until the FBI changed the definition of rape the year after my rape). It wasn't nearly as violent as some stories of survivors that I've heard. It took me almost 4 months to realize it. Because I didn't realize it, it took me 3 1/2 years to report my rape (I reported it November 1, 2013). Originally it was because I had no evidence, and I wasn't going to have my name be dragged through the mud because "I regretted a decision I made." I didn't HAVE a decision. I was forced. Once I came to terms with that, more time had passed, and I knew nothing would come of it, and I didn't want to go through the stress of a police report, so instead I got help through counseling. Then, this year, I was talking to my current therapist about possibly reporting it, if it would be worth it. I moved to a place where I no longer care if I ever see justice for what he did to me. I just want him to be on someone's radar. The chances of him doing this to me and never doing it again are slim. I want to be able to help someone else, God forbid he does it to someone else. So, I went in, by myself, and filed a report. I was made to feel as though I was lying, because certain details after 3 1/2 years are fuzzy. Because he didn't have a weapon, because he didn't openly threaten me. Because I waited. I had different people say things to me that hurt me, before I went in to report it. My friend telling me that, to him, it didn't sound like a rape, just a horny teenage boy. A friend's grandmother telling me that I needed to report because, what if he did this to someone else? As if I was responsible for anyone he raped after he raped me. I never got to speak to a detective. I didn't even get to speak to a woman. I was alone in a room with two male uniformed officers who asked the same questions over and over to find some inconsistency in my story, so they would have one less case to worry about. It wasn't until I told them for about the fifth time that I knew nothing was probably going to come of my report and I was okay with that, I just needed him to be on someone's radar that they treated me like anything actually happened and started to show a little compassion. No survivor should ever be made to feel crazy by law enforcement when she comes in and reports her assault. No survivor should be made to feel like allegations are simply coming from regret. While slut shaming needs to be stopped throughout society, it MUST be stopped in law enforcement.
I keep hoping that once I leave high school people will stop calling me a slut for what I wear or what I don't wear, but I know they won't because that's how the world is.
High school sucks. That sounds so cliche, I know and I apologise for that, but it's so true. I could rephrase that to say it sucks to be a teenage girl. Everything about you is sexualised. You're either a slut or a prude and there's no in between. I'm 17 years old and a senior in high school. Although like a lot of girls, I am interested in men, I can't stand this objectification thing that every teenage girl is forced to go through. I was lucky enough to be blessed with really nice boobs. I know that sounds weird, but hey, I think they're pretty great. But until this year, I was so insecure about my body, particularly my breasts, because I was so paranoid about men staring at me and giving me super sexual looks. No girl, whether young or old, should be insecure about her body because she is afraid that a man might try to take advantage of her. I decide to wear a baggy shirt and I'm a frigid bitch. If I wear a tight tank top because hey, I should be able to, I'm a slut and need to cover up. Why is it okay for my classmates to call me a slut because I decide to wear shorts and a tight T-shirt? If I talk about wanting to have sex with someone, why is that a sin, but if any guy talks about it it's normal? Or here's my favourite... When a guy shows he's interested but he grosses you out or you just don't want to go out with him, he can call you a bitch or a slut and it's totally okay. What is wrong with a woman's choice to say yes or no? She says yes and she's a tramp who sleeps with everyone and should be stopped. But if she says no, she's a horrible bitch who hates dudes. I keep hoping that once I leave high school people will stop calling me a slut for what I wear or what I don't wear, but I know they won't because that's how the world is. That's why I need The UnSlut Project. I want to be able to say yes or no and not have that decision picked apart or judged by people whose opinions don't matter. I don't know. It sucks.
They would call me a bitch, slut, whore. They jumped me, like 10 of them just beat me up and they pulled out my hair.
So this is what happened. I was 11 years old, in 6th grade, and I started hanging around some girl I knew from 2nd grade. Then, she started telling the boys I was a ho and that I'm not a virgin and that I suck dick, but all that was a lie, and then all the rumors started spreading around the whole town . Then my mom said, "I know the rumor's not true, I believe you." Then all the boys said, "Let's do it, suck my stuff," and I said no!! And they would call me a bitch, slut, whore. And then one day I went to a party with the girls that like them and the ones they go out with. They jumped me, like 10 of them just beat me up and they pulled out my hair. And when they got done beating me the girl I knew from second grade said, "Are you ok??" Like, do I look okay? I walked home and I told my mom I got jumped and I went on the couch and cried and cried and cried. But everything changed now that I am in 7th grade this year, 2013. They stopped bullying me in October 2013. Now I'm 12.
They still think of me as a 'slut' even if I never kissed anybody, let alone had sexual intercourse with any boy.
I'm just like any other girl in this world. I liked boys and loved wearing various kinds of dresses. But when many boys in my school started proposing to me to be their girl friends, I did, as I was just 13 years old and thought that having a boyfriend would make me popular. Boy after boy dumped me. Every girl in my school was jealous because of my popularity (as far as I thought). I don't know, maybe because of that, I changed. My dressing style, the way I walked and all. Girls started calling me a 'prostitute' and a 'slut'. Most of them spread rumours about me. They always commented about how I used to act. It's been two years since then and now I'm out from it. They still think of me as a 'slut' even if I never kissed anybody, let alone had sexual intercourse with any boy. The rumours have come down. People respect me now. I've got new friends. Maybe they don't support me but they still stay with me and respect me. I really appreciate your effort of starting a project against slut shaming.
I went through bullying ever since elementary school and never knew why people hated me so much.
I went through bullying ever since elementary school and never knew why people hated me so much. Things got harder when I transitioned to middle school. Everything was changing and I don't do well with changes. I made friends but they weren't good ones. Everything fell apart. I moved and started all over. I still sometimes go through problems but my true BFFs got my back. I'm struggling but not completely. I vow to act and stop the hate and bullying. I just love this project and it's amazing for every young teen or kids like me! :)
He photoshopped a picture of her and started the rumor that she sent him a nude picture.
One of my best friends (13) is still suffering bullying. She's a beautiful young lady, and she started dating an older guy (16). He photoshopped a picture of her and started the rumor that she sent him a nude picture. Only some people know that it's false, but the rest always disparage her. Now, she's not the only one who's being called slut. That word, that word really hurts, she didn't do anything, me neither, and neither did my other friends, but we're being categorized with that horrible name. That word has to be eradicated not only from the US, or the UK, that word has to be eradicated from the whole world. And I think your diary and the documentary is going to be one of the lethal weapons that could kill bullying.
His friends started saying things to me. Really awful, sexual things that apparently I had done with him (I hadn't).
I went through something not a lot like what you went through, but something that was hard. Right before 6th grade, I started dating a guy that I really liked. I then had to buzz cut my hair, and I heard from friends that he was making fun of me. I figured they were lying ("they're just jealous"), but I wasn't sure. Then, his friends started saying things to me. Really awful, sexual things that apparently I had done with him (I hadn't). I later discovered that not only had he lied to his friends about me doing that stuff, he actually had been making fun of me. My "friends" got mad and decided not to be my friends anymore because they believed the rumor. I moved schools later that year. I've mostly moved on, but I wanted to let you know that I think you're a major inspiration. - Josephine
It is amazing to me still just how much power the word "slut" holds for me now, in my fifties. Or should I say, just how much power that word has robbed me of.
I gained the title "slut" in 7th grade, in a very similar story to the one told in Emily's diary. This was almost 40 years ago. The label stuck with me in my own head long after others stopped applying it to me. For a few years it was a self-fulfilling prophesy, but for the most part mine is a story of serial monogamy. However, I internalized the label, and although I went on to earn two university degrees, marry (28 years married) and have a family, the label has stuck with me in my psyche always. It eroded my self-esteem and I feel much of my life's energy has gone towards trying to prove to myself and others that I am not a slut. It is amazing to me still just how much power the word "slut" holds for me now, in my fifties. Or should I say, just how much power that word has robbed me of. It is a horrid word and it is a particularly dangerous weapon when wielded against a young girl who is just beginning to define herself to herself. The shame that it carries is enormous and the scars it leaves behind are deep and lasting. I hope this project helps some young women who are wounded by slut shaming. It is just a word, but it is a word that should be eradicated entirely from society. We have made progress in eliminating some racial slurs and we should do the same with this sexual slur. It is dehumanizing, degrading and damaging. Thank you for undertaking this project.
I've told adults. All they say is that they're tired of my drama and have other things to deal with. Yes, I am still being bullied.
In sixth grade, I was also a slut. Well, to everyone else I was. I was only called a slut because I dated 6 guys. I get it now. I mean, I didn't know what dating was. I'm actually in seventh grade now. People have started to switch classes because I'm in them. People have switched lockers. No one knows about it and I'm glad to know someone understands. The last person I talked to about it was my ex, Omar, and then his friends walked up so he started calling me... things. I've told adults. All they say is that they're tired of my drama and have other things to deal with. Yes, I am still being bullied. I get that I define myself and who I am but it's hard to tell the voices in my head that what the people are saying, are just lies.
For three years I kept quiet and denied it. After seeing how sexting was changing other teenagers' lives, I chose to help in any way possible.
When I was 16 and a sophomore in a high school in northern New Jersey, a naked picture of me went viral. My ex-boyfriend had forwarded it to everyone in his contact list and by the next week it had circulated throughout three local high schools, four middle schools, and five elementary schools. My picture was sent to parents, friends, family, teachers, and strangers. The bullying and harassment began almost immediately, with people screaming "ho," "whore," and "slut" at me in the hallways, threats from girls whose boyfriends had received the picture, and vandalization to my home. I was scared to go to school and anywhere public. I couldn't even escape the harassment at home because I received phone calls, text messages, and cyber abuse on the computer. I had my friends' parents ask me out, bosses who told me they were going to find my picture and rate it, and teachers who made comments in class about it.
For three years I kept quiet and denied it. After seeing how sexting was changing other teenagers' lives, I chose to help in any way possible. I have been featured on MTV: Sexting in America, The View, HLN, Good Morning America, Fox News, MTV: Disconnected Aftershow, and Dr. Drew. I also have been traveling to middle and high schools speaking to kids about the dangers of sexting and the repercussions of bullying. I have also worked with MTV's A Thin Line as a member of their Street Team (I am one of thirteen appointed.) In doing so, I have met many teenagers who claimed to have been considering suicide until hearing my story.
Most recently, I helped change NJ's sexting laws to get rid of the sex offender status and am currently working to change laws nationwide. I was recognized for my work from the NJ State House Assembly and awarded: "Rising Young Woman of Change." I was also invited to The White House to speak about bullying with Valerie Jarrett, the Senior Advisor to President Obama. – Allyson Pereira
School was torture.. my home was torture... I think my teen years sucked, but I know that that's the reason I'm a very compassionate person, because I know what is like to be insulted and to be alone. - Gisela
Hi I'm Gisela from Argentina. I suffered not only sexual bullying in my school, but also something very sad at home. When I was 12, there were several boys who liked me, but I was still very innocent so I didn't pay much attention to them. Eventually I fell for a boy... I saw him at school and held hands... We kissed and stuff, but sex was a very distant idea for me. Anyway, by the end of the year, this boy dumped me, and he and his friend from another class started calling me a slut and worse. They called me at my home, and my mom thought I was dating one of them and she started calling me something like a "horny slut", sorry there's no translation from Spanish for the word that she used with me.... So, since I was 12 until I turned 19, my mom treat me like that, I couldn't do anything, not even go to my friends' houses. School was torture.. my home was torture... I think my teen years sucked, but I know that that's the reason I'm a very compassionate person, because I know what is like to be insulted and to be alone. - Gisela
People used to shout 'slut!' and 'whore!' down the corridors at me, they prank called me to take the piss out of me for being raped and call me a slut some more.
As I came into year 10, people started to thow around "slut" thoughtlessly. Rumours started, and the word became even more popular. But why did every single one just have to be about me? I'd apparently slept with my guy best friend, given head to most of the guys in my year, had sexual encounters in showers with my best friend Hannah, had sex in a portable toilet and given head to a guy on the golf course close to my boarding school. Only one of those rumours is true, which is the last one, except it was rape. I'd struggled with anorexia and depression prior to this, but when the slut-shaming started so did multiple mental disorders for me. I started to self harm... People used to shout 'slut!' and 'whore!' down the corridors at me, they prank called me to take the piss out of me for being raped and call me a slut some more, they left me abusive questions on my ask.fm wall, they made me lose all my friends because they didn't know if they could trust me or not... I attempted suicide half way through year 10, was hospitalised, then released, and I told no one. I've been scared to have relationships with guys ever since, because guys started to just try use me for sex and pictures, and that's why I still struggle with depression and drug abuse. I just wish people would realise that it's actually not ok to slut-shame and such, because it really hurts people whether they show it or not. - Annie
Men have automatically assumed that my body is available to use simply because I have slept with many men in the past. If I'm really damaged goods, then I suppose it's easier to unwrap a used packed than one in new packaging.
At this very moment, my heart feels overwhelmed. Unfortunately, most of my sexual experiences have been non-consensual or coerced, at least. It has made me believe that recreational sex is exhausting and overrated. The average adult has had nine sexual partners. And since I'm a human adult, it's a very human thing to compare your actions to others. Well, I've been with enough partners to fill a large classroom. I'm at a place in my life where I don't say it with pride nor shame. It simply is. I've had out-of-body experiences of survival mechanisms, and moments of cleaving where I truly felt one with another soul, and everything in between. Even at my best moments of sexual intimacy, I have found myself pushing away disturbing micro-memories of when I was molested as a young girl. They come like flashes of lighting and send shivers down my spine. It's like choking on a glass of water that was meant to quench your thirst. For a moment, I feel like I am drowning in the very element that makes me human. I want sexual intimacy and then I want nothing associated with human sexuality. I then begin to see it objectively. It's a powerful fire that can warm your soul and burn it. It can transform the chemistry of relationships on either end of the spectrum. One thing I have learned about being a victim of sexual abuse as a child, and a rape victim as an adult, is that men see you as much more vulnerable. Men have automatically assumed that my body is available to use simply because I have slept with many men in the past. If I'm really damaged goods, then I suppose it's easier to unwrap a used packed than one in new packaging. Sometimes I wonder if guys who push themselves on you after you've had a few drinks on a date or at a party see you as a slut, yet they don't get the same derogatory name. If I let him have me or say nothing, I'm considered one-night-stand material. I've experienced judgement, shame, and confusion through these encounters, but I know I'm not alone. I believe it's so important to speak up and expose the sexism and abuse that goes on in our society. It happens to people we know and people we know do these awful things to. I'm not sure how to tackle this issue in society, but I know I can start with myself. Unlearning sexist belief systems, educating myself about healing, and encouraging those who've been traumatized as well is progress worth fighting for. - Tanya
When I was 15 I was drunk and was spit on in a club by a bunch of boys, because I've been "easy" and kissed 3 boys from the same school.
It was a long time ago, but when I was 15 I was drunk and was spit on in a club by a bunch of boys, because I've been "easy" and kissed 3 boys from the same school. I didn't start having casual sex after many years. There were only kisses, thank god, because if not, I don't know what they would have said or done to me. All these boys went to a catholic school. My school was much more open minded. It is such a common thing (among women as well) to make nasty comments or undermine women who are open about their sexuality. I wasn't raped, but it doesn't have to go to that extreme for people to make you feel really bad about yourself. I hope all those teenagers out there can overcome the pain they are going through. It does get better. This is a great project. Thanks so much.
The story followed me around until I was about 17. People who I didn't know came up to me, laughed at me, spat at me, and called me a slut.
When I was 11, I was lying in between my two male cousins watching a movie. One of them put his hands down my pants and digitally penetrated me. I was freaked out and intimidated and I didn't know what to do so I just lay there and waited for it to be over. I was known from then on as the girl who got fingered by her cousin. The story followed me around until I was about 17. People who I didn't know came up to me, laughed at me, spat at me, and called me a slut. I would meet a new person and they'd find out who I was and then stop talking to me, or, if I was unlucky, they'd actively spread the story around about me. I was ostracized and humiliated by people I didn't know. My cousin, meanwhile, went on to become very popular and high up in the football team at his school. – Rosie
Dudes I didn't even know from other Jr. High Schools jumped on the rumor train and said they slept with me. This was in 1975 and while there was no social media then, it really left some deep scars.
Saw your segment on Katie the other night and couldn't believe that you went thru the exact same thing as I did! Nearly word for word the exact same thing happened to me in Jr. High and I believe it really changed me. Who knows what I may have accomplished or how more positive my sexual life might have been if the horrid, untrue rumors about me never happened. When you spoke about going to school the next day and so-and-so and so-and-so were saying they slept with you, I cried, as that is exactly what my experience was. Dudes I didn't even know from other Jr. High Schools jumped on the rumor train and said they slept with me. All this at age 13 and while I was a total virgin!! This was in 1975 and while there was no social media then, it really left some deep scars. Thank you for telling your story. – Laura Morgan-Boyer
I just want other girls to know that even a girl who you think has it all doesn’t, and they could be going through the same thing as you, and the only way to end things like this is to stop doing it to others and yourself and to stand up to other people.
I enjoyed reading your diary entries so much and as happy as I am that life turned out great and that you were able to overcome those people, I will miss your entries cause they were my consoling factor in my life. It has been 7 long years of sexual bullying for me. It started in 6th grade after I was molested in the bus and at the end of 6th grade I ended up telling on the kid who did it to me. After that everyone said I deserved it and wanted it. My best friend told me I was lying and then dated the guy. That’s when I started cutting. And from then on I was the school whore. I didn’t have my first kiss till I was a sophomore and I lost my virginity to a guy that I dated for over a year. Yet I was known as the slut of my middle school and still my high school. I’m a senior now and everyday I walk down the halls and boys dodge out of the way from me and scream diseases. Someone started a rumor that I slept with a different guy every week and that I had so many STDs and people believed it. Yet I’ve only slept with three guys and all of them I was dating for at least half a year. And I’ve only kissed four guys and all but one I was dating. Things are looking up, though. I’ve kept my GPA at almost a 4.0 and I’m taking advanced classes and I just got accepted into my dream college. And I did something I never thought I would be able to do, which was compete in pageants, and I actually won. Even though I thought it would stop the rumors, it didn’t. But it has helped me so much in my confidence. When I found your blog a few months ago I wanted to help in some way but I didn’t know how. So I decided sharing my story was a great way to do that. It may not be as serious or as tragic as other girls' but it’s mine and it still affects me. I just want other girls to know that even a girl who you think has it all doesn’t and they could be going through the same thing as you and the only way to end things like this is to stop doing it to others and yourself and to stand up to other people. Im really going to miss your blog diary entries and congratulations on living a life well spent and trying to make a difference for girls like me too, who seem to have it all. But really don’t. — for-the-love-of-tobie
One day, I don't know why, he started calling me slut. To everyone. In a little city in Spain where everybody knows each other.
I'm from a little city from Spain where everybody knows each other. It was 2002 and I was 17. Before that I never kissed anybody, I never dated anybody. I didn't feel different, because my friends of that time didn't experience these things either. There was a boy who fancied me but I didn't. So I rejected him several times. Until one day, I don't know why, he started calling me slut. To everyone. In a little city where everybody knows each other. My friends told me, other students of the high school looked at me, etc. I knew what he was doing but I really didn't care. I knew I did nothing and he was being childish. Somehow it wasn't harmful for me. The problem came when I started dating my first love, my first boyfriend. Of course he heard all that bullshit that boy was saying about me. He did not understand a thing and he was somewhat hesitant to date me. We finally did date, we were together for about 2 years. And now I'm here, with a different boyfriend, with many other sexual experiences, and always proud of it. Maybe my history is not that big, maybe because I was older than many of the girls who suffered bullying, maybe because I knew I had nothing to be ashamed of. But the real point is how women have to be pointed out as sluts and there has to be something wrong and injuring with that. How people look at you as if you had the "A" on your chest like in 17th century. Thank you so much, your project is awesome. – Julia
I had decided to stop fighting it. I gave everyone the satisfaction they wanted. I almost accepted the label they were putting on me. That I was a slut.
My name is Ashley Hooper. I am 15 years old but my slut shame started when I was in middle school. In 6th grade I would constantly change from boyfriend to boyfriend just because I knew I could and that it wouldn't really matter, I mean, it was just 6th grade. But because of that I started hearing every now and then that people were calling me a slut. I didn't think much of it because I had a lot of friends backing me up. But, it really made an impression when my math teacher decided to start in on the "joke" too and made up a math problem about me. Calculating the number of new boyfriends I would have in 8 weeks. But again I just brushed it off and went on. In 7th grade, me and a bunch of my friends joined the track team. Not knowing at the time that one boy I was hoping to avoid my 7th grade year had joined the track team as well. He and I had never been on good terms. During one of our track meets he came up to me and stuck his hand down my shirt in front of everyone. I was so embarrassed. I immediately called my parents and told the track coaches. At that time I still had many friends backing me up. A lot of the other guys on the track team threatened to beat him up for me. In no way at all did I want or hope he would do that to me. I definitely didn't like it. But other people's thoughts remained the same. I was a slut to them. In 8th grade I started falling for the "bad boys." Liking the kind of guys that got drunk and smoked weed as part of their lifestyle. I became a bit envious of their life. Getting to do whatever they want, whenever they want. They influenced me and later that year I found myself at a party. It was two of my best girlfriends and I. All surrounded by quite a few other boys. Though most of them had been drinking and smoking weed, that was one thing I did not partake in. But when it was time for us to go home we let a boy drive us that was under the influence of alcohol and weed. I know it is only by God's grace that we did not get in any kind of wreck that night. News of the party spread quickly around the middle school and high school. Rumors were made up about my friends and me. Nothing we did or said could change their minds. They were sticking with what they heard. We were sluts. I lost a few friends that year.
My freshman year started out pretty good. I had started talking to this guy who was 2 years older than me. He was very nice, my parents were fond of him and we got to hang out a lot. But for some reason, we didn't think just hanging out on the weekends with our families was enough. So I let him sneak over to my house a couple nights. That was when I lost my virginity. My parents eventually found out and we had to have a talk with my family and my boyfriends family. We stayed together for a while after that but he became very controlling of my life and we broke up just a few days before our 6 month anniversary. A while later I started hearing about all kinds of rumors. That another guy had been telling people that I gave him a blow job in a bathroom after school and that he was going to have sex with me, too. I got asked about it for 2 weeks before it finally became old news. Then I started getting texts from a guy that happened to be best friends with the guy who started the rumor. We met up at a basketball game one night and snuck off and got on a school bus behind the gym. I was a little nervous about being alone with him and was afraid we would get caught. But despite my feelings, I let him talk me into having sex with him right there. He had promised me that he would never spread things about me. But the very next day at school, it started. This time I had decided to stop fighting it. I gave everyone the satisfaction they wanted. I almost accepted the label they were putting on me. That I was a slut. I just went with it. It didn't take long for my parents to find out about that situation and they tried in every way to help guide me.
This year, my 10th grade year, I signed up for a teen living class where we learn about skills and things we can do to better our life. Our teacher had us make a map of our life and write down our "road blocks." So I included everything on mine. Even my sexual mistakes. The boy sitting beside me quickly turned my life into a joke. Up until this very day, he has been calling me a whore, a slut, and saying that I'm easy. He was texting me expecting me to give him blow jobs and do other sexual things with him. But because I had so accepted the label of a slut I didn't just say no. I would send mixed signals because I knew I didn't want to be a slut but I didn't think there was any way possible to change that so I didn't try. But the other night my mom read my text messages and read what had been said. She sent him a message telling him what could happen if he continued this. Today was the first day I saw him in that class since it happened and he never said a word. It almost felt kind of difficult for me to have to ignore him and maintain my distance, but I just kept reminding myself that it was best for me. I would much rather have to ignore someone than have to put up with being called those kind of degrading names. Because now I know that I am NOT a slut.
P.S. My mom watched your interview with Katie Couric and found your site for me. I admire how you were able to overcome what happened to you. You are an inspiration to me. It's nice to know that it is possible to stand up against what people are saying about you and use your experience to help someone else rather than harm yourself.
My Freshman year of high school, when I was 14, my whole body was exposed to the whole school by an ex- boyfriend who video taped us having sex without me knowing.
Hi! my name is Emily Hooper, I live in Waynesville, NC. I am 18 years old and a college student at Asheville-Buncome Technical College in Asheville, NC. I graduated from Tuscola High School in May of 2013 where I was the Captain of our Varsity Cheer Squad and also elected Homecoming Queen of 2012 by my peers last year. Though high school hasn't always been that fun. My Freshman year of high school, when I was 14, my whole body was exposed to the whole school by an ex- boyfriend who video taped us having sex without me knowing. My entire body was shown and all my self confidence was out the window. I lost respect from all my friends and family, too. But, I overcame. I got into counseling which helped my self esteem and prayed that God would see me through this, and he did! I so want to be able to help girls who are going through what I went through and over came. That family tried to destroy my life, but I came out on top! I hope you can use my story, and help me accomplish my goal of reaching out and helping other girls get past their struggles and humiliations too. Not one more life should be taken because of imperfections.
I was called slut, whore, BJ giver, the whole gamut of these names & “cave woman” since the guy who pulled me across the tracks by my hair said, “Just like a cave woman.”
I just want to thank you for what you are doing. I am 53 & when I was in 7th grade & 12 years old, I was dragged across the tracks by my hair by a boy I liked. There were 3 of them & I was forced to give them oral sex. I still played with Barbie dolls, didn’t know guys had penises, let alone that sexual act. We lived in a small town & by Monday in school it had spread like wildfire, with the omission of it being a forced act. I, like you, lost life-long friends, nobody talked to me & I was called slut, whore, BJ giver, the whole gamut of these names & “cave woman” since the guy who pulled me across the tracks by my hair said, “Just like a cave woman.” In a funny way, some kids thought that nickname came from my looks because I had frizzy hair back then. Unlike you, it stuck all through high school, so for 5 years I endured hell & torture. No friends, no dance or prom dates, no involvement in extra curricular activities. I cut school a lot & when I was there I was stoned on pot most of the time. I always wondered how my life would have been different if I had a chance at school and giving it my 100%. Despite all the cutting of classes & lack of attention while I was there I still graduated w/a “C” average & 2 years in a row won awards over all South Jersey in the DECA program I was in. My Jr. years I won 2nd place for display & my Sr. year I won honorable mention for advertising. But after graduation I was just glad to be out of there & spent the next decade being a junkie, no college, no hopes of a career. I, like you & Audrie, never told my parents about what happened. I carried the shame, thinking it was my fault since a couple weeks before I had had my first ever make out session w/the boy I liked. The one thing I would want bullies to know, especially when it comes to sexual assaults, for me, like you, I endured it from the time I got on the bus in the morning, all day at school & on the bus ride home. I couldn’t even walk down the street w/out being harassed. And every time I was called a name, or bullied, I lived the attack over again. So for me, it was like 5 years of the movie Groundhog Day. 41 years later & I still cry, like now, tears are streaming down my face. I have talked w/my classmates on FaceBook, etc., & some don’t remember the torture I endured by them. Their lives went on, but for me, it’s burned into my soul. I can truthfully say, what they did to me has impacted all my relationships, w/ guys as well as making & trusting people as friends. I can’t even imagine what it would have been like if social media was available like it is today. – Patti Marshall
A boy who liked me when I was about 13 years old spread vicious rumors around school about me that were not true because I wouldn't sleep with him.
I did not do anything sexually until I was 15 years old with my boyfriend at the time. But prior to that a boy who liked me when I was about 13 years old spread vicious rumors around school about me that were not true because I wouldn't sleep with him. The rumors went with me through high school and scared me because this one girl in middle school was very mean to me and a bully and would do anything to torment me. Though by high school I was not tormented the way I was in middle school. I actually ended up going to a different high school out of my school zone to avoid this bully from middle school because I knew she would try to make my high school years a living hell if I had had gone to the high school in my neighborhood. I am now 33 years old and I have a daughter who is two years old and an infant son and I plan to teach them about respecting their bodies as well as those of other people. I was fortunate, as you were, to not have to be subjected to social media to have to deal with cyber bullying but it still affected me to the point where I cried and I had to have conversations with the school guidance counselor. I never told my mom the whole story so she just thought people were harassing me because I was cute and petite and had long pretty hair and that they were just jealous of me, but in reality I think it was more of the "easy girl" rumors.
It is very detrimental to a young girl and I truly do feel for these young girls and even boys that are bullied everyday publicly. That's why I plan on teaching my children at a young age about respecting people, and about not bullying people for their own satisfaction or to fit in with the crowd. Kids are really cruel and I know you don't have to be told that. I'm so glad you have addressed this ongoing issue and I pray it sends a positive message to any young teen or adult who is being called names like slut and whore or to any sexually confused kids. They shouldn't feel as though they are an outcast. – Alicia
When I would walk home, the parents of my friends and the parents of the boy who assaulted me would scream, "Whore!", "Slut!", and at times threw items at me.
I was tormented and run out of school because I reported a sexual assault. In 8th grade I was sexually assaulted by a 9th grade classmate in my boyfriend's house. When I yelled out for help, I was ignored. The boy who was assaulting me was called out of the room by friends. Once he left, I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in the bathroom for 45 minutes. I ended up running home bare-footed in tears. I told my mother what had happened and she called the police. When I returned to school the following day, all of my friends had abandoned me. Calling me a liar, a whore, and a slut every chance they could. I was branded a lying slut. My closest friends had turned against me and even threw food at me as I walked through the cafeteria. When I would walk home, the parents of my friends and the parents of the boy who assaulted me would scream, "Whore!", "Slut!", and at times threw items at me, including a full Big Gulp slurpee. I had gone to the principal and asked for help. I was then told that I needed to keep my mouth shut and not talk to anyone. I had the campus police officer escort me to all my classes due to my classmates harassing and even physically assaulting me. I ended up not finishing 8th grade because the bullying and abuse got so bad that it made me physically sick and suicidal. I was tormented for almost 7 months everyday before my mom moved us 75 miles away. The boy who sexually assaulted me ended up serving 3 months in juvenile detention and serving community service. But that is the last I have heard of it. I am also a survivor of child rape and child abuse. I wanted to tell girls going through the same or similar situations that it will get better. I am a US Army veteran. I enlisted as a Military Police officer in hopes of helping those like me. My life's dream is to become a rape counselor to help those like me. I am a stronger person after I realized that what happened was not my fault. Stay strong, they have already stolen something precious... Don't let them steal the rest of your life!
I am 51 and still angry and fear taking my children to my hometown.
I graduated in 1979. I was called Mattress Mary as my friend saw me kissing a boy on a mattress that was thrown out. This happened in 1974 and has followed me all my life. I am still angry. The girl that started this came to the city I live in and apologized in 2012. I am 51 and still angry and fear taking my children to my hometown. I went to counseling and then went home and some idiot called me Mattress Mary! Luckily I was alone and yes, he is an idiot!!! - Mary Woods
I became the aggressor and cornered one of the main girls who started all of the rumors and beat her until I was pulled off of her. Her parents sued my parents and she tried to have me put in jail.
The summer of my 8th grade year (I would attend high school later in August) a group of older girls spread around that I had AIDS and that I was a slut. I could not go to parties without this group of girls harassing me and telling my friends ugly untruths about me. I tried to kill myself and I went to live with my mother so I did not have to go to the same high school with the girls who were harassing me. Later when my mom moved I had to move as well and go to the high school with the bullying girls. By this time I was empowered and felt good about myself. When they first saw me at school they did not approach me, but gradually they started on me until I had enough. I became the aggressor and cornered one of the main girls who started all of the rumors and beat her until I was pulled off of her. Her parents sued my parents and she tried to have me put in jail. Later I found out that the reason she started all the lies about me was because her ex-boyfriend asked me out. Even though I said no to her ex-boyfriend she still saw me as a threat.
Throughout high school I truly believed I was a slut and therefore wasn’t worthy of love.
I went to a small high school, and everyone knew everyone’s business. I was labeled “easy" the minute I started high school, because I had big boobs and I liked hanging out with guys. My reputation just went downhill from there when I lost my virginity halfway through freshman year. I had been dating the same boy for 5 months when we had sex, and once people at school found out I became the class slut. What was even worse was my boyfriend was CONGRATULATED for losing his virginity, while I was condemned. After that no one ever took me seriously. Guys would just grab my boobs, and if I got mad they would say things like "oh shut up" or "It's not like this is the first time some guy had felt you up". Guys would run up to me and try and pull my top down so my boobs would pop out. In the hallways sometimes they would smack my butt. Losing my virginity was my decision and no one else’s, and I was fine with my decision until people at school began bullying me.
I went on to hook up with other guys, which was also fine because it was MY decision to, and MY business, and it was what I wanted to do. However, no one at school could seem to wrap their heads around that. The people I went to school with all claimed to be very open-minded, but they are far from open-minded when it comes to women’s sexuality. I ended up losing one of my best guy friends because he told me if I went past 1st base with any guy he would stop talking to me. One night I was upset because a guy I was dating was being a jerk, and my guy friend told me "Well, if you stopped acting like a slut, you wouldn’t have these problems." I cried to him about feeling slutty because of what people said about me and he simply said, "Well, you are one."
Most girls at my school didn’t even kiss boys, which made me look even worse. It was hard for me to hang out with girls because I couldn’t talk to them about my life. I felt like they looked at me like one looks at an exotic animal at the zoo. I was so foreign to them and it made me feel isolated and alone. I had 3 friends there who understood me and I am so thankful for them.
The worst part about my reputation though didn’t even occur at school, but at home. After a long day at school, I would come home and be called a slut by my own father. He told me a looked slutty when I straightened my hair, when I wore a tight shirt, when I wore eye shadow, etc. When he found out I lost my virginity (which I know is no easy thing for a father to find out about his little girl) he called me a whore. A week couldn’t go by without him putting me down using words like "slut", "whore", and "harlot".
When I was in high school, just like every other teenager, I just wanted to be accepted. Sometimes I would do things I wasn’t fully comfortable with because I thought it would help a guy love me. My reputation certainly didn’t help me in the relationship department. So many guys didn’t want an actual relationship with me because they thought I was easy. One time, a friend of a guy I was seeing actually came up to me and asked if they could share me. I have never been so disgusted, or felt so disgusting in my life.
Looking back, the thing that upsets me the most is how I never stood up for myself, because I ACTUALLY BELIEVED EVERYONE. I heard what they said day in and day out and began taking it as truth. Throughout high school I truly believed I was a slut and therefore wasn’t worthy of love. That is the worst thing you can do. My advice to anyone in a situation like mine is to please please please please please do not believe what others are saying about you. You are not a slut. You can make your own decisions, and as along as you are fine with those decisions that is all that matters. Do not let others define you, because more often than not they will only point out the negatives and you are worth so much more than that. People are going to judge you constantly for your decisions, but just remember that it's YOUR BUSINESS and NOT THEIRS. Being curvy doesn’t make you a slut. Wearing whatever clothes you like doesn’t make you a slut. Wearing makeup doesn’t make you a slut. Hooking up with people doesn’t make you a slut.
Most of all remember that high school doesn’t last forever. One day you will grow up and leave these people behind, and people will not care so much about your personal life. I have since graduated and now attend hair school, where I am surrounded by loving, open-minded, and accepting people who have shown me that everyone I went to high school with was wrong. Just like the people bringing you down are wrong. - bblueeyeddbeautyy
Boys who I had known forever were Facebook chatting just to let me know how slutty they thought I was.
Although I was always more advanced than my girlfriends, I was never sexually active until I was 16. In middle school I was a "slut" for kissing a hand full of guys. In high school I lost my virginity to my high school sweetheart. After two years with him we ended things. Despite everything I knew, I went off the deep end. By 18 I had at least 8 sexual partners. Many of which told every explicit detail to anyone who would listen. I was hearing sexual details that I knew were untrue but felt like no one would believe me. Boys who I had known forever were Facebook chatting just to let me know how slutty they thought I was. Guys would text me just to be mean. My closest girlfriends were my back bone for many months and without them I would not be here today. I would lie in bed at night thinking what is the point in life? I had let myself and boys take any ounce of self respect I had. I had no value and many days thought about death. I'm now 20 and can say that for nearly 3 years just breathing was miserable. After exiting Woodland High School I found that life after high school was so much better than the alternative, suicide. - Savannah
I am lucky because her friend forwarded her texts about killing herself to her older sister, who alerted her father and me.
I am picking my 9th grade daughter up from the hospital this afternoon. She was admitted a few days ago because she told a friend that "she was not going to kill herself tonight, but probably soon." I am lucky because her friend forwarded her texts about killing herself to her older sister, who alerted her father and me. What you said on Katie this afternoon is very similar to my daughter's story. I am just checking your site now but we will be back. Bless you for creating this project. I am already much less frightened about her future.
Two boys who I had thought were friends laughed when they found out I was raped and still stuck to the fact I was a 'slut' who 'opens her legs for everyone'.
I was raped three days before starting university. During my second semester, I was seeing the police, studying law and I was generally destroyed by the incident, so I began to act out and sleep around. People chose to forgot all my positive characteristics and only value me by how many men I had slept with. Two boys who I had thought were friends laughed when they found out I was raped and still stuck to the fact I was a 'slut' who 'opens her legs for everyone'. The first year anniversary has just passed and I realised being called a slut doesn't define me. Even if I am societally considered a slut all that means is I have sex a lot, but the person calling me slut defines himself as small-minded, ignorant and just generally & unnecessarily cruel.
I had been called a slut and a whore so many times (and knew how much it hurt) that I adopted it, and used it to hurt someone else.
I don't remember how many people called me a slut, or how many times it happened. I do know that, as bad as that made me feel, I now feel even worse for having used that "weapon" against someone else, years ago. I lived in a small, conservative town. I don't even remember when I was first called a slut, or by whom - possibly when I was 12, and my mom found a condom in my then-boyfriend's wallet? He was my first boyfriend, and we did nothing more than kiss and hold hands - I think the condom was more about wishful thinking, or bragging, or something - but he never tried to put pressure on me. My mom forced him to break up with me (I only found this out many years later). She would continue to accuse me of being a slut and a whore for the majority of my teenage years. In high school, I was one of those kids who walks the line between being popular and unpopular. Some people loved me, many more hated me - but for some reason, everyone had a strong opinion about me. Even if I'd tried, I couldn't have slipped under the radar. It didn't help that my parents were supposedly "prominent" figures in the community. I was accused of a sometimes paradoxical set of things during high school: being a slut, a prude, a lesbian, a Satanist. This came from friends, family, my mother (especially), teachers, and other students at my school. Most of my friends were male (I'm female), and living in hostel. At some point, a teacher from the hostel told one of my friends that they shouldn't come visit my house on "town" days anymore, because having a number of boys visiting me regularly made me look like a slut. I had a boyfriend at this point. He supported me then. Years later, long after we'd broken up, he raped me - but that's another story. The thing that bothers me most is that there was another girl in my class whom I tried to shame. She and I detested one another - I'm still not sure why. Some of my friends made a poster pronouncing her "slut of the year," and had me print it. They put it up at school. When it was found (fortunately before many people could see it), I got all the blame. I felt resentful, because my so-called friends shifted all the responsibility to me, and because this girl and I had openly called each other sluts a number or times. A few years later, she and I became friends - we still are. I apologised for my part in the poster. To this day, I am sad that I did that - partly for her, because it was such an incredibly mean thing to, and partly for myself, because I had been called a slut and a whore so many times (and knew how much it hurt) that I adopted it, and used it to hurt someone else. I'm very grateful that the girl and I have been able to make amends since then.
My grandfather berated me about how he didn't raise his daughter to welp a slut, how I should be ashamed of myself for putting a mark on the family name, and how he doesn't need us to be "doubted."
My grandfather was staying with us over holiday. My boyfriend of two years was over playing video-games, and when 2am rolled around, he was falling asleep. I didn't want him driving 15 miles of country road home while tired, so I set him up in the spare room. The next morning, my grandfather berated me about how he didn't raise his daughter to welp a slut, how I should be ashamed of myself for putting a mark on the family name, and how he doesn't need us to be "doubted." We haven't spoken since.
One of the guys told the kid who is my boyfriend now and I lied, saying I didn't send any pictures because I'm not that kind of person.
In ninth grade the kid I used to like started texting me and I was overwhelmed by emotions so when he asked for "pictures" I did it, I continued to do this with at least four other guys over the summer. Now one of the guys told the kid who is my boyfriend now and I lied, saying I didn't send any pictures because I'm not that kind of person. I'm scared for the day when he will probably find out. But through those days I did self harm and I stopped now. I think it was just because I was in a state of depression and I couldn't care less, but now I do care and I'm hoping I always will.
I'm 53 yet I can still invoke the feelings of shame, horror and humiliation of being labeled the town slut when I was 13.
I'm 53 yet I can still invoke the feelings of shame, horror and humiliation of being labeled the town slut when I was 13. It is a label that once bestowed can never be erased. Girls target other girls as readily as boys spread rumors. For five years I lived with that label and the teasing that accompanied it. Just writing about it elicits a very familiar sick feeling. Yet, despite the trauma, I endured. I grew into a strong and confident woman with no tolerance for bullying or abuse.
While the rape was an awful and painful experience, the harassment and disbelief of my story was even worse.
When I was in 8th grade I was raped. The next day at school, everyone knew. My boyfriend was mad at me for 'cheating' on him and I was called awful names. One particular group of 'popular' girls got my phone number and would prank call me everyday that summer calling me a slut and saying things like, "Who does something like that?" I was labeled the school slut. While the rape was an awful and painful experience, the harassment and disbelief of my story was even worse. - Christy
I was as far from “Slut” as you could get.
In seventh grade, I made a new friend. She really was the life of any party, fun, bubbly, and completely and utterly boy crazy. I had a cute little boyfriend, never pushy, always polite. We never kissed, much less talk about sex. We all were friends, Me, her, my boyfriend and our little group of his friends. That fall, something personal happened and I felt like having a relationship was too much to handle. I broke it off with him, and my friend stood behind me on everything. His friends made up vicious lies that I had “had an affair” that summer (which I had definitely not), and that I was a “Slut.” This confused me. I was as far from “Slut” as you could get. I had read somewhere that people are using the term Slut to replace what was commonly used as Bitch. Of course, I never told my mom because, I mean, it’s pretty hard to tell your mom “Oh, yah, by the way, these boys at school are saying that I’m a slut because I allegedly slept with a boy at summer camp.” But what hurt the most was that they would never tell it to my face. I’m a strong person, I can stand up to people, when they tell it to my face. This was, to me, a whole new form and breed of middle school bullying. Later I found out that my “Friend” wasn’t really a good friend. She had been helping spread the rumors via messaging. Moral of the story: Even if you’re “Strong” and “Unslutty” bullying can happen. You can never really get put in the victim's shoes, and it’s very hard to experience what goes through the victim's head.
High school is tough, finding yourself is tough, life is tough.
At one point of my life, I was considered a slut. I am referring to the times I was in middle school. Back then it was all about boys, first kisses, first love and maybe sex. To all of you youngsters, you might end up being emotionally devastated including depression and lying to your parents that all is fine when it is not. While in middle school or high school, don't lose your virginity if you are not certain that you want it. My friend lost it and the next day the whole school knew the story because the boy spread the news. The girl was treated with disrespect by everyone and she was emotionally devastated. Keep your head high and be self-confident; always fake a smile to appear strong when you feel you are vulnerable. High school is tough, finding yourself is tough, life is tough. Just keep your pride high and all will be all right.
I started harming myself in 1st grade. I’m 45 now.
By 3rd grade I was stripping. By 6th grade I was gay. By 8th grade I was being molested by my dad. By high school my sisters and I were being sold to truckers as prostitutes by our mother. I was told my youngest sister gave blow jobs behind the mini gym after school. In college someone told by boyfriend he heard my sisters and I, and our mom, did things with dildos. Not one grain of truth in ANY OF IT! I started harming myself in 1st grade and still do. I’m 45 now.
"Don’t you think that makes you a bit of a slut, having so many men in your life?"
My older brother turned to me one day, after I’d mentioned a few male friends of mine in a conversation and said: “I’m not being funny Lou, but don’t you think that makes you a bit of a slut, having so many men in your life?” I was 23, at university and working in a bar. Of course I knew a lot of men. He’s said similar things since - mentioning a guy by name means I’ve had sex with them.
The most important thing that I want you to know is that you are not alone. I stand next to you in this battle.
I was sexually abused in my past, many years ago for many years. Yes, I knew the man who did it. My whole family did. Yes we went to the police, but nothing came of it because I waited too long to tell anyone about it. I suffered from a fruit basket of emotional ‘disorders’. I also overcame a fruit basket of emotional ‘disorders’. I was angry. I was sad. I was basically any emotion in the most extreme form, for months when I finally decided to face this. I
was forced to face it by an amazing teacher. He was the one who challenged me to tell my family and once I did my life changed forever. Not a single day has passed since I came out with the truth, that I have not been grateful about it. Granted, saying those words to my mother was the hardest thing I have had to do in my twenty one trips around the sun, but it is one of the happiest moments as well.
I have experienced victim blaming, first hand.
How can a person blame an elementary school child for being sexually abused? Were my skorts too short? Were my ankle socks too low? Or was it because I was as flat chested as any boy who was in the same grade as me? He called me crazy when I confronted him at the ripe age of 16. He told me I made it up, and again, called me crazy. Then he asked me if I wanted to talk to a pastor about it. A PASTOR. He told me God would forgive me for lying.
To this day I stand by my honesty, no matter the ridicule I have faced and may face. I have no idea how this blog post will be received, but I owe it to those who are in a worse situation than me, who still don’t know what their future will be like if they were to tell others about it. If you are in that position I can assure you of one thing, telling a person close to you, someone that you truly love, is the best way to get on a road to heal. I am not telling you to go straight to the police if that is a step you don’t feel that you can handle. Take this in doses that you can. The most important thing that I want you to know is that you are not alone. I stand next to you in this battle. I am there with you through every ache and pain, through all of the tears that you shed. You are not alone. You will never be alone.
Stay strong my fellow warrior. You are a survivor, celebrate in that.
I too was targeted as a school slut, and at first rejected then embraced the role.
I have just read your article in the Guardian UK and it struck a very strong chord. I too was targeted as a school slut, and at first rejected then embraced the role. I too have been fortunate, with no long term ill effects… But I dread the day my daughter may have to face the same, with the hell of new social media which did not thankfully exist in my youth, in the early 90s. Keep up the good work and I will follow your progress. - Tracy
He forcefully touched me while I hit him and dry humped me in the back of the bus with everyone watching. My so called ‘friend’ had recorded it. From then on I was called a slut.
Well I moved to the US back when I was in sixth grade, and I was tall and developed (34C). In 7th grade I became pretty popular and I guess that’s when rumors started. I once had a guy in 8th grade who I never met nor heard of spread a rumor telling people I had let him feel me up. Also there was this girl in my neighborhood that also went to my school that spread a rumor about me, not in my school but in the elementary school my brother went to. This caused me problems with my parents since she had her sister tell people I let guys touch me and stuff, which wasn’t true. There were a lot of other rumors spread about me that year, some in which I was called a “lesbian”. 8th grade was worse since my boobs grew to the size of 34DDD and so guys, my friends or not, began commenting about them. That year I had let the guy I like touch them, and I guess he told the new kid because soon enough I was sexually assaulted by the new kid. He forcefully touched me while I hit him and dry humped me in the back of the bus with everyone watching. My so called ‘friend’ had recorded it. From then on I was called a slut. 9th grade I became more open I guess. And openly talked about sex. This had earned me some looks from my friends who still claim they never called me a slut. I have no prove they did. As for the guys, they started jokes about how they had seen a porno of me and how I was a porn star. Also that I give blow jobs behind the tennis court, which none of it is true. But every time I look offended they will remind me that it was a joke and that they know I won’t do this things. I’m a sophomore now in a different school, and things are going well. I’m still in contact with those friends. But not with the ones from middle
school who purposely tried to ruin my reputation, things will get better.
When I would share my story with people, the first thing people would ask me were things like if I was drunk, what I was wearing, or why I didn’t fight back more.
When I was 15 I went to a party and someone who I thought was my friend decided to pin me down and touch me without my consent. I managed to get away from him before anything more could happen but it was still pretty scary. Though no one ever directly called me a slut after, I was still made to feel like I had done something wrong. When I would share my story with people, the first thing people would ask me were things like if I was drunk, what I was wearing, or why I didn’t fight back more. These are all things that I have no bearing on the situation and only serve to make me feel like it was my fault; like somehow HIS decision to assault me was something I was asking for. It took me an unnecessarily long time to really understand that it was nothing that I had done wrong, and feeling like it was my fault is a horrible effect of our “slut” and victim shaming culture.
I am 48 and I was a victim of slut shaming starting when I was in 6th grade. My mother had mental health issues and would act out by having sex with men in our hometown… everyone knew except me.
I am 48 and I was a victim of slut shaming starting when I was in 6th grade. My mother had mental health issues and would act out by having sex with men in our hometown… everyone knew except me. I also developed early and was very insecure, so that fueled the fire. Needless to say, I suffered the effects of this “hell” for years; well into my adult life. It has taken me years to recover and develop a healthy self esteem. So many think this is a new trend when actually, it has been going on for generations. I do believe, however, that it is probably worse now because of our society and social networking on the internet. I am so sad to think that so many young girls, with so much potential, have taken their lives because no one listened and no one took action. Parents, it is not just a phase that our children have to endure! Bullying in general will affect your child’s life forever. If they survive, they will carry the scars forever! I am now the mother of a young son, I began early on teaching him that bullying in any way, shape, or form is unacceptable. When he is “of a certain age” he will be told that speaking of young ladies in a derogatory manner is UNACCEPTABLE. To mine and my husband’s delight, our son has intervened in several bullying situations. he is kind and respectful to all people. I want to thank The UnSlut Project for a forum in which to speak openly about my slut shaming. I am here to support your efforts and any young woman who wants to talk. - Carla
"Am I a slut because of the amount of guy friends I have?" "Is what he said about me true?"
I’m 15 and live in California. This summer one of my friends introduced me to a guy. I became friends with the guy and we talked often but then he kept asking me out. I told him numerous times that I just wanted to be friends but he wouldn’t accept it and every time we talked/saw each other he would try to get me to go out with him. Randomly one day towards the end of summer he texted me telling me “You’re just a rich bitch with no friends! The only people that are friends with you are guys and they only talk to you so they can get in your pants! No one likes being friends with the bitch.” I texted him back and asked him nicely to delete my number. He continued to text me, calling me names and being very rude. I replied again and told him that he barely knew me and that he didn’t know anything about my life or what made me the way I am. The texts continued for a while but finally stopped because I didn’t reply. I’ve told my friends/family what happened and I laughed it off saying that I didn’t care what he said, but honestly I do care. After he said that to me I started doubting people in my life. I’d hang out with people and think, “Does he just want to get in my pants?” “Does this person secretly hate me?” “Do they think I’m a bitch?” “Do they think I’m a spoiled, rich bitch?” I’m doubting people I’ve known for a long time just because of something one guy said. What he said has also made me doubt myself. I often find myself thinking, “Am I acting like a bitch?” “Am I a slut because of the amount of guy friends I have?” “Is what he said about me true?”
A so-called friend of mine would touch my friends and me.
This isn’t a story, compared to others, that major. A so-called friend of mine would touch my friends and me. He was gross, touching our privates too. I got scared of him. We even hid in the girl’s restroom every recess. Sometimes he still went in, or we got kicked out. Sigh, glad he moved.
I am 28 yet still struggle with slut shaming. It shakes me to the core that most people assume slut shaming stops after high school.
I am 28 yet still struggle with slut shaming. It shakes me to the core that most people assume slut shaming stops after high school. The fact that it exists in high school is unacceptable anyway and here it is, continuing to follow me when I am in my late twenties. I met a man over twitter. We instantly connected. We went from direct messages on twitter to text messages, to phone calls, to Skype. After some time had passed, we decided to take it a step further and meet. We had amazing chemistry and decided to begin dating. What I didn’t know, is that he had recently left seven year relationship with someone who seemed very unstable. She began publicly slut shaming me on Twitter months ago. The man I was dating told me to ignore it for his sake and I did. I also ignored it because in spite of being 30, her behavior was that of a child and sexual bullying is never okay. After two months of harassment, I decided to protect my twitter account. I usually don’t let others change me whatsoever but I was so tired of the constant torment that I took the next step and did it. Unfortunately, this person got her sister to follow me and harass me as well. She made multiple twitter accounts purely to try and cause me grief. This saddens me deeply. It is still happening today even after six months. Whatever happened to women sticking together? I am proudly sex-positive and I will ALWAYS fight for what is right. My sex life is none of this woman’s business. Her constant use of the word “slut” and “whore” not only made him cut off contact with her, it also made her look like a very depressed and sad person. I will fight for anyone who is sexually bullied. Because it doesn’t end after high school.
The police said I couldn’t go to trial after a year and a half of waiting because it was a “he said she said” case.
I was raped by my (former) friend’s father. He was 60-something and I was 20. The police said I couldn’t go to trial after a year and a half of waiting because it was a “he said she said” case. My friend just said I was a slut who couldn’t “say no to dick”. And that I was using rape as “a scapegoat for cheating on my boyfriend”.
My aunt’s boyfriend came on to me one night. His pick up line revolved around the way I dressed, and started with, “All those outfits you wear, you must be really popular with the guys, huh?”
This project is so inspiring, and very important. Thank you!! I’d like to contribute by sharing my story. I’ve also had to deal with slut shaming culture for a very long time now. Like so many other shared stories I’ve read, it started in the 6th grade. I was going through a lot then… my grandfather, who was a father figure to me, had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. I was struggling with my sexual identity. Kids relentlessly and sometimes violently bullied me for being the “weird kid” because I was a poor, non-Christian of an ambiguous racial background whose clothes were home-made or hand-me-downs, and who was interested in unpopular things like books, art and history. Unsurprisingly, I became severely depressed.
Within the school culture I had to endure, girls’ entire self-worth came from how popular they were, how nice their clothing was, how pretty they were, and whether or not they had a boyfriend. That’s all anyone talked or cared about. No one thought I was pretty (at least, most kids told me I was ugly or bullied me about my looks). I was not popular. My clothes as I’ve mentioned were home-made monstrosities, and despite pretending to be boy-crazy, dating secretly terrified me. My self esteem was so low I briefly started dating a boy though I found him completely revolting, and even kissed him (my first kiss! Oh the horror!) because I thought I could never do better and that I was lucky to have a boy be interested in me at all. Ironically once word had spread that I actually kissed him, instead of becoming more popular I became the slutty freak who actually made out with [the boy]!
The next year my grandfather died. I was the pariah of the 7th grade… very few except a handful of other social outcasts like me ever acknowledged my existence, unless it was to insult me. But with his death came perspective. Suddenly none if them mattered. I started to rebel against the stifling and impossible expectations of my peers. Thanks to the internet, I found goth, punk, and metal, which were all grouped together in my mind as being anti-conformist avenues of personal expression that gave me a sense of belonging and support through very dark times. Finding alternative subculture quite literally saved my life, but as I got into high school it sometimes became a weapon aimed at my own dignity.
My family and I moved after my grandfather’s death, and I transferred to a new school system. High school was a bit kinder to me than middle school had been, at least on the surface. I had started dressing goth, which often includes very provocative pieces like corsets, fishnet, and vampy dresses (mostly home-made or re-vamped with my improved tailoring skills, thank you very much!), so I went from being the “weird girl” to the “hot weird girl” who everyone was afraid would put a spell on them. I was no longer shoved around and kids no longer chanted horrible names. By that time I was no longer desperate to give the impression I liked boys, but that didn’t stop boys from trying to befriend me in hopes of getting lucky.
At the time I smoked pot, and I had a “friend”, we’ll call him M.J., who would come over and we’d smoke, have a laugh, but nothing more. He started telling other guys he had slept with me. When I found out, I was livid. Not everyone believed my refutes, and rumors about what a “freak” i was in bed as well as in garb started to circulate.
I remember distinctly a school clique in which the girls were very rude to me, and the guys very friendly at first. But one day one of the guys actually flashed me. I was horrified. I found out through the grapevine that the guys, who said extremely disrespectful things about me behind my back, had tried being friendly because they thought “goth girls are freaks in bed”. Apparently, they also thought flashing their genitals at me was a great way of “being friendly” and would send me running in their direction. Or maybe flashing their little bits was actually man-speak for “gosh, I think you’re swell”, I don’t know. Of course their girlfriends were both resentful of and disgusted by their boyfriends. But instead of directing their disapproval at the guys for being pigs, I was their target!
I wasn’t even safe from the bullsh*t at home. I lived with my grandmother, aunt, her boyfriend, and their two children. My aunt’s boyfriend came on to me one night. His pick up line revolved around the way I dressed, and started with, “All those outfits you wear, you must be really popular with the guys, huh?” After I gave him a resounding “F*ck no”, I asked him, “What makes you think it’s ok to even ask?!” and he responded: “Well I just thought, with…” which came with a palm-up, up-and-down hand gesture aimed at me before he stopped himself and asked, with a sigh of frustration, “You’re not going to tell [my aunt] about this, are you?”
The irony in all this is that I’m a lesbian. Not a lesbian as in kinky-lesbian-vampire that is the object of guys erotic fantasies, but lesbian as in super-queer, hell-no-you-cannot-watch, L-word-reruns-on-Saturday-night-with-my-partner-and-our-cat type of dyke. My clothes were the bandages that healed the wounds of my grandfather’s death, and the armor that shielded me from the pain of social rejection. They certainly were not invitations for sex with men, and even if I was dressing to get the attention of men, the complete disrespect I was subjected to by both genders is inexcusable.
When I was beaten up and bullied, I never said anything. When I was flashed and sexually harassed, I never said anything. I also never said anything to my aunt about her creep boyfriend’s advances for fear of hurting her and causing trouble at home (he ended up assaulting her, and she kicked him out. Real piece of work, that guy). My greatest regret in life is my silence through all of this. I should have spoken out, but I was just a terrified girl who had gone through hell and back. But I’m not going to be silent any more. I hope sharing this story will contribute to fighting this disease of slut shaming and sexual violence/harassment that is most young girls’ realities.
"For the Girl" by Danielle Campoamor
I checked into the Emergency Room for the girl who can’t walk through the door. With shaking hands I pulled the expired ID from my wallet, while she stays, shaking and alone, in darkness. I listened for the S.A.N.E. request, corrected my date of birth when the nurse couldn’t read the out-of-state ID, and attempted to return a sympathetic smile before sitting in the waiting room.
I started crying for the girl that can’t stop. Tears ran down my cheeks as the blood pressure cuff tightened. My temperature was 96.7, but I couldn’t stop shivering. My heart rate was 80 BPM, although I warned the nurse the beating would stop at any second.
I accepted a hug from the Victim’s Advocate for the girl who will never be offered. I nodded at the appropriate time, like when the words “strength” and “safe” and “proud” were wrapped around me. I held the S.A.N.E. nurse’s hand when she extended it in my direction. I squeezed her hand tighter when she explained I would be their guest for at least five hours.
It was then that I became jealous of the girl in the dark.
I stripped in front of the nurse for the girl huddled in her shower. As she rocked back and forth, I stood on butcher paper and peeled my protection off; piece by piece. My shirt was wrapped in plastic, then labeled, then gone. My pants fell next, then quickly wrapped, then placed in a paper bag. My underwear was last, with remnants of him still visible.
I stood naked, in front of strangers, for the girl still trying to find her legs. The shivering doubled, my heart rate increased, and my skin resented the hospital gown it was offered.
I shook the officer’s hand for the girl who’ll never meet him. I tried to concentrate on his explanations, to remember the important information he was offering, and to smile slightly when he told me the chances were good. I took his card, underlined his personal phone number, and thanked him for offering his assistance at any hour of any day. I secretly hoped I’d never see him again.
I pulled twelve hairs from my head for the girl whose cries for help were not answered. I struggled to place them in the small white envelope, as I wondered who’d decided on the number twelve.
I swabbed my throat and mouth with cotton four times for the girl who can’t get rid of the taste. I coughed when I was asked to swab my tonsils, my lips quivering. I was more than thankful for the bottle of water that quickly followed.
I showed the scratches and bruises to the forensic photographer, for the girl hiding hers. I stopped him twice, holding my face with my uneasy hands, when the click of his camera and lights from his flash became too overwhelming. I stared at his kind eyes through a tear-stained window as he told me to take my time. My hands, my neck, my arms, my back, my breasts, my pelvis, and my legs were all on file. My pieces categorized. My body, now evidence.
I put my feet in the stirrups for the girl huddled under her covers at home. I stared at the ceiling, hands clenched and body tense, as uncomfortable plastic tried to uncover traces of him inside of me. I tried to relax when asked to, tried to breath when the pain hit, and tried to fast forward when it all seemed to go by so slowly. I wondered why they needed to look inside me, when the signs of trauma were written on my face.
I told my story eight times, for the girl who can’t tell hers. Three officers, a Victim’s Advocate, two lawyers, a S.A.N.E. nurse, and a District Attorney now know me better than my closest friends or family. Each head tilt and touch of my shoulder made me feel helpless. Each determined head nod and promise of justice left me exhausted.
I thanked the friends who were by my side for the girl who feels alone. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t, have survived without them.
I hugged each one of them for the girl who’d never have their equivalent. I held their hands for the girl who can only hold her own.
I came forward for the girl who never will.
Because I am that girl, shaking and alone in darkness. That girl who can’t stop crying. That girl huddled in the shower, trying to find her legs. That girl who’ll never meet a police officer, whose cries for help weren’t answered, and who can’t get rid of the taste. That girl hiding her bruises, huddled under covers at home, unable to tell her story.
I am that girl who feels alone.
Twice during my life I had boys say they had sex with me when they hadn’t.
Twice during my life I had boys say they had sex with me when they hadn’t. I never understood why and it caused me problems gaining trust in relationships, and for my reputation. I dread to think how bad it would have been with social media added into the mix. I’m now pregnant with my first daughter and hope sites like this make it easier on girls and young women to fight back and help each other.
I kept dating guys for a few days (or maybe a few weeks), feeling claustrophobic the entire time, and then freaking out and breaking up with them. I never went beyond making out with any of them, but my quickly dating so many people earned me the title of slut.
I don’t think I have ever been as interested in dating as other people my age were. I remember being a pre teen with all my friends fixing their hair, and putting on make up, and going to all the school dances- and I just didn’t care what I looked like, and still wanted to play games and run around outside. It’s not that I wasn’t interested in cute people, I just didn’t want to spend so much of my time actively having a crush, I certainly didn’t want to spend the time it would take to date someone. But as I got older, there started to be all this pressure to date: all my friends were dating constantly, and it was just treated as if it was REALLY weird that I wasn’t. And I had crushes so I tried to date people I thought were cute. And I hated it. I hated how much time they expected to have in my life (I had friends, theater, homework, photography, and music lessons, I didn’t
have hours at a time to talk to my boyfriend on the phone everyday), I hated having to be with them all the time (sitting next to them at lunch, in class, invited them along whenever I went out), and I hated having to be affectionate with them in front of people (holding hands at school made me SO uncomfortable). But that’s what dating was, I wasn’t offered alternatives, I wasn’t given the language that would allow me to express my desires. So I kept dating guys for a few days (or maybe a few weeks), feeling claustrophobic the entire time, and then freaking out and breaking up with them. I dated every guy in my friend group and beyond, and then promptly dumped them. I never went beyond making out with any of them, but my quickly dating so many people earned me the title of slut. And it was very hard. There was even an attempt to organize a day where nobody would talk to me, I found out about it before hand, so they cancelled it; but it still hurt very much that I was hated for my non-malicious actions. I didn’t particularly like my behavior more then any of my peers, but I kept trying to relieve the pressure I felt to perform relationships in very specific ways, and didn’t have any idea of how I could handle my romantic life differently. It honestly wasn’t until late college that I started hanging out with radical feminists and queers that I learned that I can define relationships however I want. There’s not one way to date somebody, that I can create relationship style to fit me and my affections. That I have the agency to inform my romantic partners of my desires, and that it’s reasonable to do that. It’s not easy, it takes work, but I feel good in my romantic relationships. And that is amazing.
I suddenly woke up being touched by a boy, he had his hands under my shirt and was trying to get into my trousers.
I was 17 at a party. There were about ten of us sleeping on the floor of the room. At about five in the morning when everyone had just got to sleep, I suddenly woke up being touched by a boy, he had his hands under my shirt and was trying to get into my trousers. I started shouting at him to stop touching me, but he wouldn’t, so I hit him lightly at first, but then, when he still wouldn’t stop, I hit him really hard and he let go of me and walked away crying. Now, this never resulted in slut shaming. I was very vocal about him being a rapist douche bag, expelling all my shame and anger at him. In fact, I wish I had gone to the police, but I just didn’t think of that. I was by no means very popular, but people still sided with me rather than him. This isn’t a story of slut shaming, but perhaps may help some girls experiencing similar attacks. Don’t be afraid to get angry at them, hit them back and openly tell people what they’ve done and tell them how horrible they are for doing it. And tell your parents or the police, as some of the attacks described on this site are of obvious criminal nature. I know it may be difficult, but that’s a way you can fight back, as people like to abuse those they think of as weak. Just ignoring and bearing it simply doesn’t work. This obviously wouldn’t work in all cases, but I hope it may in some. Remember, sex is great and don’t let anyone tell you you’re bad simply cause you’re a sexual human being.
He threatened multiple times to tell the school that I’m bi, and tell them a bunch of other things that no one else but him knew.
Well, it all kind of started in 6th grade, when my ‘friend’ Allie had told everyone at my lunch table that I fingered myself. I told them I didn’t, but they believed her a little bit. Then I started going out
with a guy and when I dumped him, he called me a slut, even though he was the first guy I went out with. At one point, he pushed me into a locker, for no reason. He was never caught. I went through a tough time at one point, and I turned to my online friends, and then he somehow got to talking to us, and threatened multiple times to tell people (the school, actually) that I’m bi, and tell them a bunch of other things that no one else but him knew. To this day, I don’t fully trust him, but we are friends. Allie and I, however, don’t speak anymore.
This one girl in particular started a rumor that I had lost my virginity to a 40-year-old coworker who was a registered sex offender in the parking lot of my job.
This blog inspires me so much to realize that there is nothing actually wrong with me for being a “slut.” After being broken up with by my first, and to this day only, serious boyfriend the summer before 11th grade, I began to explore more sexually than I had in my relationship, and with multiple guys, in an attempt to get over him. Ever since then, people had made their assumptions about the kind of person I was, but kind of kept their opinions to themselves. This went on up until my senior year of high school (this past year), when I had managed to turn my bruised reputation into a totally shattered one. I got involved with one of the most well-liked boys in school. He wasn’t even attractive. He was just talented, nice, funny, and pretty inexperienced. I offered to take his virginity as a favor to him and he said yes. The day after, we sat outside on the bleachers and we made out. It was just a simple make out session, but when people found out they were furious because I was “perverting” and “ruining” him. People that day called him and told him that if he got with me they would lose all respect for him. This one girl in particular, whom I had had a rocky past with, started a rumor that I had lost my virginity to a 40-year-old coworker who was a registered sex offender in the parking lot of my job. The rumor spread like wildfire. All the while, the guy did nothing. He even went so far as to make jokes about me forcing myself on him and how it was “practically rape,” even having the nerve to tell me he couldn’t control what people said or did so he just went with it. His true nature became clear about 2 months later when he slut shamed another girl from our school on Facebook and encouraged others to join in. Throughout this experience, I was at the lowest point I had ever been at. I’ve always been a strong person but being slut shamed had my crying to my close friends and cousins at least 3 days a week. The only salvation I had was that after 4 months I never had to see these people again. I think that was the only reason I never slipped into depression or self harm. I was so close to being out. After graduation, I posted a video about slut shaming on Facebook. About 5 minutes later, that same girl who started the rumor posted a status that read “I love slut shaming.” It got 30 likes. I immediately blocked her. I am starting college in 5 days and I am looking forward to a fresh start.
The thing I kept thinking through all of this was, okay, I didn’t, but what if I had? Would it really matter?
Your story inspires me, and I think you are very brave to post all of this up on the internet just to help other people. I am thirteen and in the past year I have been through a lot. One of the things was that people were saying I had gotten fingered. I didn’t actually, but rumors spread that I had been. For one thing, it wasn’t true. Then a lot of my very close friends (at the time) believed it, some of them even spread the rumors. I had people one, two, three and even four years older than me passing me in the hallway calling me ‘slut’ or ‘whore’. This went on for months. The thing I kept thinking through all of this was, okay, I didn’t, but what if I had? Would it really matter? Would it make any difference in these people’s lives if I did? I wasn’t ready to go that far yet, and I still am not and I don’t think there is anything wrong with that. I also don’t think there would be anything wrong if I was ready, and had. A lot of other things you post in your story later on I find it very easy to relate to and I feel I understand a lot of what you went through. I think our stories are very similar and I was so relieved to find out, you know, maybe there is something wrong with this and it shouldn’t be happening. It’s not my fault, but rather the people who made me believe it is. To finish up I would like to say a huge thank you to you for The UnSlut Project. It really has made a huge difference to my life and I found it very comforting and reassuring to find out I am not the only person going through a lot of this stuff. I also keep a diary and I hope one day, I can look back on it, and understand the lessons I learned, and try to help other people based on my experiences, just as you are now. You are now one of my biggest role models and next time I encounter something similar to what happened to you, I will think “Emily got through it, so can I.” Thank you<3
She was called “whore” and “fat shit” by several other people simply because she had had a crush on a popular guy who rejected her when he found out.
I never was slut-shamed but a very good friend of mine was. Her breasts were a little larger than normal and a very mean boy told her she had “fake” boobs. She was called “whore” and “fat shit” by several other people simply because she had had a crush on a popular guy who rejected her when he found out. Instead of being a gentleman and letting it go, he spread it around that she liked him, called her a whore, and MADE people call her a whore. With help from me and several others she’s doing well now.
For so long I felt ashamed of it and i was treated as if it was my fault.
Two years ago, my boyfriend raped me. I got therapy, etc. but it was hard to talk to anyone about it because every time I spoke about it, I was told to either shut up or see someone else and it plagued me for so long. Only now am I starting to get over it. For so long I felt ashamed of it and i was treated as if it was my fault.
Though I felt defenseless and overwhelmed by the sexual harassment that occurred at the time, I gradually overcame its harshness to redeem my confidence and intellectual reputation.
Like many girls I know, my harassment began in the 6th grade. Incessantly taunted not only for being a “slut” (though even currently I’ve never had any close contact with a boy) but also a “homo,” “faggot,” and “lesbian bitch” because of my short hair, my self-esteem endured a hard plummet. I was admitted into a governmental health facility for emotional rehabilitation that included therapy sessions and medication. An additional result of bullying, I also developed a dietary disorder. Recently, though, I’ve begun to gain a reputation for my intelligence rather than my tomboyish style and sexual involvement (though nonexistent). Though I felt defenseless and overwhelmed by the sexual harassment that occurred at the time, I gradually overcame its harshness to redeem my confidence and intellectual reputation, something that I’m very proud of.
I had to walk home, alone, in the rain, and miss classes for the day all because my bra straps could be seen through my shirt.
I was slut shamed in high school by my principal. I was forced to miss classes for the day because my bra straps were visible through my (long-sleeved, ruffle-front) shirt. He made me leave the building and go home even though I didn’t have a ride since both of my parents work. I had to walk home, alone, in the rain, and miss classes for the day all because my bra straps could be seen through my shirt. Meanwhile, all the guys could go shirtless if they chose because it was “gym attire.”
I stayed with him for two years because “friends” made me believe that I was so ugly and unwanted that no one else would ever date me.
I remember in high school, I was in a long-term relationship with a boy. I stayed with him for two years because “friends” made me believe that I was so ugly and unwanted that no one else would ever date me. I was told that I was lucky to have him, and the only reason why I had him was because he wasn’t “their type”. When I developed feelings for another boy, I decided to do the right thing and end this long-standing relationship, even though I was afraid to. I was labeled a slut, lost most of my friends, and most of the school seemed to
have an opinion about my leaving the first boy for the other (people I didn’t even know were voicing their opinions about my actions). What business it was of anyone’s, I’ll never know. The relationship with the new boy looked destructive because I was so constantly looked down upon that I became reclusive and only hung out with him. My parents worried about his influence on me. They didn’t realize that he wasn’t the one causing the behavior, it was everyone else. My friends, my peers. It’s a good thing I didn’t put much weight in people’s thoughts about me. I married that second boy after four years of dating, and we’re now going on our sixth year of marriage. We have a wonderful son and a roof over our head. I look back and think how easy it would have been for me to have given up on him, or never tried at all…just because of bullying and slut shaming from the very women that I had put my faith and trust in.
At a party they locked me in a closet with an older boy who grabbed my breasts and put his hands down my trousers.
Because I was labelled a slut, they assumed I was up for anything. I had never even talked to boys before. At a party they locked me in a closet with an older boy who grabbed my breasts and put his hands down my trousers. When they let me out they all laughed and chanted slut. I was 13.
One summer afternoon a group of boys trapped me in the bathroom and forced my clothes off.
As an early-developing pre-teen I required a B-cup bra by the time I was eleven years old. I was too tall and curvy to wear the clothes other girls my age wore. I was made fun of constantly. Boys accused me of stuffing. Eventually one summer afternoon a group of boys trapped me in the bathroom and forced my clothes off. I was suspended from Summer Latch-key, and from then on I was known as the slut of our tiny community.
I believed what they said and my whole life was a nightmare.
All three years of middle school and the fifth grade were a nightmare. I still haven’t had my first kiss, never even thought about guys, but even when I was young I was the slut. I mean, I never even considered liking guys. Everything just made sense when other people said it. I believed what they said and my whole life was a nightmare. I was forced to kiss a boy on the cheek in the fourth grade, so I guess that’s where the slut stuff came from. It’s awful.
Everyone was calling me a slut and assumed I wanted things that I really didn’t just because of the way I dressed.
I love reading your blog because it makes me really grateful of the safe environment I am in at my school. Where I used to go, I was being sexually harassed all the time. Everyone was calling me a slut and assumed I wanted things that I really didn’t just because of the way I dressed. It got so bad that I transferred to a school that didn’t tolerate any slut-shaming, and I am so happy that I can once again be a kid and not have to worry about things I shouldn’t.
I wanted to die. I felt dirty and believed everybody. I believed that I was a slut.
I’m 15 years old in 9th grade in Northern California. I moved here from the UK last August. Last July, in the UK, I went to a party. I was pretty popular, I had a lot of friends. The boys at this party tried to get me drunk. I had never had alcohol, and I was given lots of drinks that started off being mixed with alcohol, and then became pure liquor. They succeeded with getting me completely out of my senses. About 6 guys made out with me and forced me to touch them, and they touched me. They trampled on me and held me down at points. One guy literally dragged me up the stairs into a room and unzipped my shorts and tried to have sex with me. I told him to not, I didn’t want it to happen. I was on my period. I never found out exactly how close we got to having sex, but it was scarily close. People went round at the party saying that we had sex, and a couple of girls who were my close friends said that I was on my period. I woke up the next day with bruises all over every part of my body and feeling horrible, disgusting. I can’t even find the words to describe how I felt at that time. There had been a Facebook event for this party, and everyone was posting about me on that page, talking about the boy and how he fucked “period girl.” People I didn’t know messaged me calling me a slut and making jokes about periods. I was sent texts by people from my whole school asking if I needed a tampon, or if I was loose enough there already. I wanted to die. I felt dirty and believed everybody. I believed that I was a slut. I was so ashamed, school was hell for me. The worst part was that everyone just didn’t talk about it to me, but no one could hold eye contact with me anymore. I tried to explain to my friends, but they just kind of brushed it off and called me a slut behind my back. I still didn’t tell anyone about what happened, like my mum. But ever since that night I had dreams about that night. I couldn’t stop them, and I was so terrified that I didn’t even know how far we’d been. My nightmares were hell. I want to thank you because your blog makes me feel like I’m not the only person who has been slut shamed and hasn’t done anything to cause it. It makes me so upset that so many people go through being treated like this. Your entries are great, I’m so glad I found you.
I felt heartbroken to see some family members slut-shame me around my hometown.
Being brought in an orthodox family in an orthodox country, I had 0 interaction with boys. However that changed when I had to pursue graduation in another state. I used to keep diaries too, where I wrote down my feelings and later on memories of my dates. Unfortunately my local guardian found out my diary among my books and used it to slut-shame me before my parents, and later on, did not return my diary at all. I felt heartbroken to see some family members slut-shame me around my hometown.
Being called a slut anonymously on a blog, along with other names, was slightly appalling.
The worst part is that I am not a slut. I have been called one multiple times by friends as a form of greeting each other. “What’s up slut?” is usually how it sounds, but I know it’s nothing personal. My friends know I am not a slut. They obviously wouldn’t call me that in front of boys or professionals to make me look bad. It’s literally just a greeting. So being called a slut anonymously on a blog, along with other names, was slightly appalling. Unlike the expected, I didn’t kill myself.
Sex doesn’t give girls low self esteem but slut shaming does.
I had a few casual flings with boys in high school and from then on I became the school slut. All the boys would call me a whore and tell me that I’m just the girl they would have sex with but never ever date. Also, because I’m a girl everyone talked about how my self esteem was really low just because I liked to have sex. Sex doesn’t give girls low self esteem but slut shaming does.
Life does go on, even after harsh bullying.
I used to get made fun of because I was so ugly (basically the whole package, with braces, acne, glasses, and short, greasy hair). Some people even thought I was a boy when they first saw me, and not an attractive one at that. I hated the treatment, but brought some of it on myself because I was mean. This was in part due to being ugly. Eventually, I grew out of the whole “ugly” phase and after a few years, I learned to accept my looks and personality. Life does go on, even after harsh bullying.
It didn’t even occur to them that I had clearly been assaulted. Instead I was treated like a slut.
On November 10, 2012, I was beaten, drugged and raped by my ex-boyfriend. I escaped, not realizing I was under the effects of Rohypnol and Ketamine. This resulted in me being arrested for a DUI. When I was found by police, I was unconscious and half-dressed. The officer kept telling me to cover up and that I was dressed inappropriately. It didn’t even occur to them that I had clearly been assaulted. Instead I was treated like a slut, like this is something I always did.
These words still haunt me today. It seems as though I can’t even run from those words.
My experience with bullying was never as intense as a lot of people’s, not to say that it didn’t hurt me any less. Sometime in my 8th grade year the ‘popular’ girls decided I was their target only because I wanted to be their friend. I mean they seemed like they had a ton of fun..why not? Little did I know that they were vicious creatures. They would talk about me openly while I was sitting in the next row over. They called my ugly, obsessive, and annoying. These words still haunt me today. It seems as though I can’t even run from those words. I moved my sophomore year in high school and still those words are used to talk about me.
I move around a lot, and I never stay anywhere long enough to make friends, but no matter what, as soon as I get into a new school, ever since 6th grade, I’m labeled as the “slut.”
I just want to let you know that I think you are really brave to share your story the way you are, and that it really resonates with me. So many of the situations are so similar to things that I have been through. I move around a lot, and I never stay anywhere long enough to make friends, but no matter what, as soon as I get into a new school, ever since 6th grade, I’m labeled as the “slut.” I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s nice to know that I’m not the only person dealing with this. And, thank you. You really are an inspiration to girls like me.
"[Insert name] sucked her dad’s dick" and "[insert name] sucks dog dick."
In middle school, there were an unknown group of girls that were spreading rumors that I was involved in a prostitution ring that allegedly did exist at my school. I used to go into the bathroom and find horrible things written about me in the stalls such as “[insert name] sucked her dad’s dick” and “[insert name] sucks dog dick.”
What hurts was that it all started from my closest friends.
They spoke behind my back, saying I’m one of those flirts who teases boys and when I finally have them head over heels, I’d throw them away. I was pretty confused since I wasn’t good with boys and those type of things, let alone playing them like that. What hurts was that it all started from my closest friends. The friends I ended up leaving cause I knew I deserved better.
The teacher who hit on me has been since fired, but the rest are still teaching there.
Your March 29, 1999 post definitely hit close to home (as do most of your posts but this one in particular). I had teachers not only laugh when I was called a “slut” or a “whore”, but also had teachers join in. I also had a teacher hit on me because of my “title.” The worst experience was when a kid would grope me every day in class, and my teacher would yell at me for yelling at him or smacking him. The teacher who hit on me has been since fired, but the rest are still teaching there. - hergtastic
People referred to me as a “community prostitute” and “the fakest and ugliest slut [they] have ever seen.”
I was fourteen years old when I sent naked pictures of myself to my boyfriend. The backlash and slut-shaming that occurred afterwards was intolerable. People referred to me as a “community prostitute” and “the fakest and ugliest slut [they] have ever seen.” I withdrew from school for a month, unable and unwilling to confront the torments or deal with the gossip. Demonizing women based on compliance to the expectations society shoves down our throats is a major issue. And we need to change.
All of a sudden these men started commenting and attacking me, saying things like, “Well now that we know you think it’s okay to show your naked body to whomever you like, how about you send me some photos of yourself in my inbox?”
I just got out of this facebook argument under a status that read the quote, “Your naked body should only belong to those who fall in love with your naked soul.” I commented saying, “Your naked body CAN belong to someone who falls in love with your naked soul, OR you can also show it to others who aren’t in love with your soul, it’s your decision, and whatever you do is fine.” She (the status writer) has had recent statuses like, "Girls shouldn’t wear push-up bras, they’re deceiving," and, "If you’re a female minor and you’re going jogging outside in short shorts and a sports bra i’m judging you, and your parents should lock you up," which all sound so very condescending, like she tries to make other girls feel bad about their decisions with their bodies. And all of a sudden these men started commenting and attacking me, saying things like, “Well now that we know you think it’s okay to show your naked body to whomever you like, how about you send me some photos of yourself in my inbox?” I don’t know if this means anything, just wanted to share how rude these people are. Attacking me for speaking up against slut-shaming, harassing and trying to humiliate me, ridiculing an issue as big as slut-shaming. Just more proof that we need feminism.
They forced us to become a ‘couple’ and cornered both of us to try make us kiss.
I was bullied everyday in 2005-07 by one girl who turned all my friends against me. I was nice to people & a pushover. I even tried the whole ignore them/agree with them and they’ll get bored and stop. They never did. Then they all made this horrible song about me and a guy I didn’t even know. They forced us to become a ‘couple’ and cornered both of us to try to make us kiss. I ran away and hid, I skipped my first and only class that day because of them. It’s now 2013, I’m turning 19 & I still can’t cope.
A lot of people assume that the popular, pretty kids aren’t affected by things like this - it’s good to see a view that’s not from a shy, nerdy perspective as that’s the one usually portrayed.
A lot of people assume that the popular, pretty kids aren’t affected by things like this - it’s good to see a view that’s not from a shy, nerdy perspective as that’s the one usually portrayed. I identified as the shy, nerdy type when I was younger (and still do to a point) and I assumed that the pretty kids had it easy and I thought some pretty bad things about them but looking back they had it just as hard as I did. Thank you!
I had male friends in middle school (in 7th and 8th grade) that would call me a PIT (prostitute in training) behind my back.
I had male friends in middle school (in 7th and 8th grade) that would call me a PIT (prostitute in training) behind my back. The term spread and I would have people yelling it at me as I walked down the hallway. They informed me that they started it two years later, “assuring” me that they “got to know me” and they “now know that I am actually not like that.”
Thanks for writing this, it reminds me of things that shouldn’t be forgotten and helps me watch out for it in my students.
You and I are about the same age. I never had to deal with sexual bullying like you, I was just plain bullied. But your writing about guys reminds me of once how a few different ‘popular’ boys asked me out a few times and I was convinced that it was a joke, so I said no. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t. Haha. But I couldn’t fathom it because I was so ‘uncool’ and made good grades with ease, which is why I was bullied often and constantly cheated off of in school work. Thanks for writing this, it reminds me of things that shouldn’t be forgotten and helps me watch out for it in my students. — quixoticchimera
I once had a boy forget my name, so he just tapped on my shoulder and said, “Hey, whore! Yes, I’m talking to you.”
I once had a boy forget my name, so he just tapped on my shoulder and said, “Hey, whore! Yes, I’m talking to you.” I was still in elementary school, but I was so upset. I didn’t want to be labeled as such, especially since I only had a vague idea of what he was saying. The way he looked at me was awful, embarrassing, and hurtful. But you see, now that I’m older, I know promiscuity is a choice. It is not a reason to laugh at someone, or call names, or publicly shame them. I hope he learned that.
The word slut doesn’t define me because I’m not defined by my sexuality or body, I’m defined by my value as a person.
I was a full-bodied woman at 11. When I was 12, a girl told me, “People think you’re weird. People think you’re a prostitute.” A boy chimed in, “She is.” It wasn’t the first or last time I’d be called a slut. The experience made me glad I can’t have kids, but the isolation pushed me to get my first internship when I was in 8th grade. People love everything I used to get teased for. The word slut doesn’t define me because I’m not defined by my sexuality or body, I’m defined by my value as a person.
I was quiet, shy, kept to myself and caught the attention of the class clown/popular boy who decided that it would be funny to sexually harass me.
I was branded the school slut in 6th grade, too. It wasn’t because I danced with, kissed or dated a boy. It was a whole different reason. I was quiet, shy, kept to myself and caught the attention of the class clown/popular boy who decided that it would be funny to sexually harass me. It’s amazing how teachers will so easily turn their back to this sort of thing. I eventually bounced around from school to school to escape it but it kept up with me for some time. It was heartbreaking and could really ruin a person’s self esteem. It took a long portion of my school career to realize and accept that I’m not the person they made me out to be but it’s a very hard thing to go through. If teachers simply paid attention or listened to the complaints of students, so much bullying could be eliminated.
Still a virgin, never kissed a guy, and all my friends deserted me. And yet, I’m still somehow branded a “slut”. I have no idea why.
Your story is very interesting because I know what it feels like to be called a slut. See, people didn’t notice me until I started hanging around ONE guy. And he was the most popular guy in school and we just hung out and did homework. But then I was branded a slut because then his friends started hanging around my friends and the whole thing started a bunch of crap and the bullying never stopped. That was seventh grade. I am now a senior in high school. Still a virgin, never kissed a guy, and all my friends deserted me. And yet, I’m still somehow branded a “slut”. I have no idea why.
I was called “whore” and “slut” all through middle school - yet I had never had a boyfriend, or even really a crush.
Based on your dates, I am a bit older- middle school was early 80’s for me. I have a daughter now, ending middle school this week. I was called “whore” and “slut” all through middle school - yet I had never had a boyfriend, or even really a crush. Thank you for sharing. It helps. Never think it doesn’t. - angstrydenbytch
I was scorned by female friends for being slutty for him having touched my butt and shoved his hand into my crotch.
Freshman year of high school, I was going out with a guy. Two weeks in, we kissed in the hall and he pinched my butt. It hurt, so I jumped and shrieked. He got offended by my reaction and told me not to be a pussy. At lunch that day, he put his hand on my leg. I brushed it off, and he returned his hand, and I reacted no differently. He then shoved his hand into my crotch, and I nearly fell out of my seat slapping at his arm and pushing him away. I was terrified! I told him no, and he looked down at me after I’d slid back into my seat and hissed, “What the fuck was that?” I told him I didn’t feel comfortable with him touching me there, and he slapped his hands on the table and stormed off. My friends asked what was wrong, and I told them about the pinch and what he did. The response I got was, “Well, that wasn’t very nice of you - you’ve been going out for two weeks, what did you expect?” and, “That’s really slutty of you, he wouldn’t do that.” Later, a friend of mine showed me an IM conversation she’d had with him, and he was asking her about dildos, whether she masturbated, and whether or not she’d fuck him because I was being a pussy about a butt-pinch. She told me to give him what he wanted, as that’s what a good girlfriend does. I told the both of them they were disgusting and I wasn’t going to do anything I didn’t want to. She then said she now had to sleep with him because I wouldn’t, and it would be the only way to get him to stop harassing her. I later found out he’d started shit talking me to his friends in our swim class, and I would get made fun of for being an “oversensitive prude.” On the other hand, I was scorned by female friends for being slutty for him having touched my butt and shoved his hand into my crotch, and by my best friend, a bitch because she was now somehow obligated to sleep with him because I wouldn’t, and he was harassing her about it while he and I were going out.
One day I brought a tootsie roll pop to school to eat at lunch. The next day rumors spread that I liked to give blow jobs.
We’re about the same age (my 7th grade year was ‘97-‘98) and so much of this rings true. One day I brought a tootsie roll pop to school to eat at lunch. The next day rumors spread that I liked to give blow jobs. I also developed early (34C at 13 years old) and once while changing for gym, some tissue fell out of my pocket. By the end of the day girls were saying that I stuffed my bra. Can’t wait to live in a society that doesn’t judge women by such harshly impossible standards.
Slut shaming is such a bizarre societal behavior and your blog is helping to raise cool awareness about how young people are taught to hate ‘loose’ women.
I just finished reading your blog & wanted to tell you how fantastic it is. I’m from new zealand and although, at 11, I was subject to a different kind of bullying (being a nerd with glasses who won speech competitions) it’s crazy how much I identify with your experiences now, at 17. Slut shaming is such a bizarre societal behavior and your blog is helping to raise cool awareness about how young people are taught to hate ‘loose’ women. Thanks heaps!!! - ostalgia
I was outraged that, knowing this man’s predatory nature, my teachers had slut-shamed me for my crush instead of reporting him.
In high school I had a huge, obvious crush on one of my teachers. One day, I happened to overhear other teachers gossiping and making mean comments about me (and not for the first - or last - time). A couple of years out of high school, I found out that the teacher I’d had a crush on was known by the faculty to sleep with students and had even gotten a girl pregnant. I was outraged that, knowing this man’s predatory nature, my teachers had slut-shamed me for my crush instead of reporting him.
I became so worn down I began to believe her. That I was truly terrible, and a slut. I constantly apologized for my sexuality, my beliefs, and trying to stand up for myself.
I was sexually assaulted at the age of 11 by a group of four boys in broad daylight, and it was witnessed by two “friends” who went on to slut shame me for what happened and then abandoned me. Recently, I was watching Angel with a “friend” I will be referring to as MH. At one point while we were watching the DVD she sneered and called the character Faith, “skanky.” I was immediately offended on behalf of the actress, who was just doing her job, and told my “friend” so. I didn’t know the term slut shaming at the time. I wish I had, as it probably would have made my life easier, but I was intelligent enough to know it was wrong. And I knew from experience the damage it could do. MH had always been a bit abusive, but it got worse after I went against her with this. Suddenly I was no longer able to have a sexual attraction to any actress (I’m bisexual) or like any type of sex scene without being attacked for it in one way, or another. She started calling me names, attacking my intelligence, telling me things like “you like skanky sex.” And I became so worn down I began to believe her. That I was truly terrible, and a slut. I constantly apologized for my sexuality, my beliefs, and trying to stand up for myself. Because of what MH did to me my PTSD that developed from what happened to me when I was 11 came back. Even more recently I had to stay at a hospital for ten days in inpatient because of how close I was to killing myself. I was placed in the trauma program to be treated for the major depressive disorder and PTSD from the pain I was in. I finished out the month after being released from that in partial hospitalization (still in the trauma program) and am doing better now (better able to handle the PTSD).
All the rumors about me must be true because look at my big, gross, dirty tits.
I’m 35 years old and I can’t stand up straight without hearing the voices of two girls that mocked me in high school, telling me no one wanted to see my tits, that I looked like a cow, that all the rumors about me must be true because look at my big, gross, dirty tits.
Maybe the first 10 times one of them stuck their hand down my shirt or held me down on the bus I told them to stop, but after a while it just seemed normal, I expected it, and boys thought they could just do what they wanted.
Eighth grade was the worst. On the bus there was one boy who would pick me up and throw me around, when I told him not to. He would sit on me and “tickle” and touch me, even when I was yelling at him to get off of me. There were two other boys at school who would make inappropriate comments, not only to me but to one of my friends as well. When I asked her what she did about it, she told me she just ignored it and pretended it didn’t happen. Maybe the first 10 times one of them stuck their hand down my shirt or held me down on the bus I told them to stop, but after a while it just seemed normal, I expected it, and boys thought they could just do what they wanted. The absolute worst was when a boy posted a video of me tying my shoe, where you could see down my shirt. I was so embarrassed, and everyone knew about it, even my teachers. I guess because I had some sort of “reputation” for “letting” boys touch me somehow, that they really thought it was okay to do what they wanted, kind of like you and the way boys treated you after what “you did” with Zach. I don’t know. Your story really means a lot to me.
Even though I had never talked to her before, she started telling people I was a slut.
When I was a freshman in high school I started flirting with this cute boy I had just met. There was another girl who had known him a lot longer than me and had a HUGE crush on him. Even though I had never talked to her before, she started telling people I was a slut, and got her friends to do the same, in an effort to make the boy stop talking to me.
My 5th grade teacher called my mother to tell her that I would likely be pregnant by the end of 5th grade.
I was pretty typically boy crazy in 5th grade - I talked a lot about boys, and “went with” one or two (friends negotiated this, and it typically meant dancing together at school dances, and maybe a little making out in the woods at recess). I was the only girl in my class with boobs at that point, so I got a lot of boy attention, whether I wanted it or not. My 5th grade teacher called my mother to tell her that I would likely be pregnant by the end of 5th grade.
All the feelings of worthlessness and hurt from high school and middle school came pouring back.
This blog is hitting home hard for me. I was a pretty weird looking kid, so when I got to 7th grade and boys actually liked me, I ran with it. I had maybe 3 “boyfriends” in middle school and 4 guys I dated seriously in high school, one of whom I dated for years and am now happily married to. I didn’t sleep with them or act wild. However, that stigma of being “boy crazy” followed me. My friends made hurtful jokes, even though they all had crushes and boyfriends just like I did. It killed my self esteem for a long time, but it’s something I worked through. Recently at a birthday party for a high school friend’s 4 year old, one of the little girls wanted to see the birthday boy’s room and grabbed his hand to lead him up the stairs. The little girl’s mom made a joke about her daughter moving too fast, because they are 4 and completely innocent, and my high school friend’s mom said (in front of everyone) “sounds like a **my maiden name** kind of thing to do”. And laughed. I’m 30 and have been married for 5 years and I could not have been more mortified. All the feelings of worthlessness and hurt from high school and middle school came pouring back. I wish more people realized these words and jokes stick around and can do a lot of damage.
I am empowered by my sexuality and my individuality.
I was called a slut throughout much of high school, and though it saddened me, I pretended not to care. My “best friends” also began to call me a slut, so I finally decided to free myself of the negativity. I no longer speak with those girls and I have a much better life without the people of my past. Now, at age twenty, I have broken out of my comfort zone, in part because I made the steps to have a more positive life. I am empowered by my sexuality and my individuality. We are all strong <3 -erinmcguigan
I actually was a little promiscuous in searching for positive attention in this area, which of course led to more “slut/whore” bullying.
In middle school I was harassed for wearing a strapless bra that slid down, so I was called “saggy tits.” Boys also used degrading phrases such as “beef curtains” and “stinky pinky,” and the girls were even worse with the “slut” comments. After being degraded and made to feel insecure about my appearance and whole new sexuality, in retrospect it makes perfect sense why I actually was a little promiscuous in searching for positive attention in this area, which of course led to more “slut/whore” bullying.
I was the school slut, hated and hunted. My world was a hell and the adults in my life blamed me for it.
In elementary school I was well liked, had many friends, and school was my favorite place in the world. Then I got boobs. When I went back to school in 6th grade, my whole world changed. Overnight girls who had been my friends since pre-kindergarten were saying horrible things about me, and guys who had been my friends began cornering me in packs and doing painful, humiliating sexual things to me. I was the school slut, hated and hunted. My world was a hell and the adults in my life blamed me for it.
I think it’s insane that I had to deal with bullying like this as an adult from people my own age.
I started dating a friend in my college’s theater group; we’ve been together for a year and a half and we live together. His friend decided she didn’t like me. She made up a rumor that I had an STD and tried to convince my boyfriend to break up with me because I was a slut. She never confronted me directly about any of this; she thought it was justified to attack someone she didn’t really know. I think it’s insane that I had to deal with bullying like this as an adult from people my own age.
He kept continually touching me in inappropriate ways and I was too embarrassed to tell anyone about it.
I’ve read about your project, and I just want to start out by saying it’s a really great cause. A year or two ago, I fell in love with a guy whom we’ll refer to as Theo, but it didn’t end up like the movies. This crazy, insane boy liked me so much, but he knew I didn’t like him, because it was pretty obvious that I liked another boy, whom we’ll call Tyler, and not him. Theo and my best friend, “Juliette,” set up this intricate lie about me and told it to Tyler and it was just a mess. But in the process, Theo kept continually touching me in inappropriate ways and I was too embarrassed to tell anyone about it. And I think that’s a real problem. Men constantly do things like that, and women are too afraid to speak up because it’s uncalled for in our society. It’s not a safe environment for young girls.
I was sexually abused and raped in 4th grade (10 years old)… I thought I was dirty. I wish I had courage back then.
I was sexually abused and raped in 4th grade (10 years old). Nobody knew until I was 20. I’m 21 now. During my school life until my last year of high school I was afraid of my sexuality, of being hurt and called a slut for something I had no control of. I was asexual and didn’t let myself have a boyfriend even though I was in love for 9 years with the same guy. I thought I was dirty. I wish I had courage back then. I feel sorry for the girls whom were marked as sluts. At least life is good now. :) - slanninnica
She made up a rumour that at age 14, I was having an affair with a 34-year-old man with a wife and two kids. The worse thing was that people believed her. Even some teachers.
When I was 14 I had sex with my boyfriend who was also 14. When we broke up and he started dating a new girl, she hated me. It probably was due to some bullying from other people suggesting that she would never have a relationship like ours because we “traded virginities.” [What even is that?] So she made up a rumour that at age 14, I was having an affair with a 34-year-old man with a wife and two kids. The worse thing was that people believed her. Even some teachers.
Classmates loathed me, from sexual harassment to death threats, because I was The Ugly Kid.
It’s so weird to read this blog. I’m the same age as Emily but I was forbidden from dating, talking on the phone, going to parties and other people’s houses and the mall (unless my mother was shopping herself). Classmates loathed me, from sexual harassment to death threats, because I was The Ugly Kid. Emily’s more open and social but still victimized. The experience is surreal for me. - sexpositiveodyssey
It honestly took me until reading this to realize that I wasn’t alone in feeling that way in middle school.
While my middle-school experience was 8 years later and consisted of more girl friend-drama than boy-drama, I really see a lot of my 6th and 7th-grade self in these entries. It honestly took me until reading this to realize that I wasn’t alone in feeling that way in middle school. I think what you’re doing by posting these is really important, thank you so much.
At 13 I realized that people shame girls just for existing on their own terms.
In 6th grade, my friends and I targeted a girl who was more physically developed than we were. We came up with “Slut Ho Alert,” abbreviated as “SHA.” We’d hiss it at her as she walked by for the whole school year. Then I developed a bit more, and my fashion took a turn for the goth. Girls began spreading rumors about me having sex for money. Boys threw dollars at me once and called me “whore” whenever I wore fishnets. At 13 I realized that people shame girls just for existing on their own terms. - brujacore
I didn’t even know the meaning of the word slut, but I knew it was really bad.
I’m a couple years older than you, and I was pretty sheltered. Sixth grade was still elementary school and I only knew of one “couple” in seventh grade. I didn’t even know the meaning of the word slut, but I knew it was really bad. One day I was watching a soap opera with my mom (“Days of Our Lives”) and this really conniving character did something super manipulative and antisocial. I said, “I hate Lucas. He’s such a slut!” Then my mom explained it to me. Too bad we can’t easily redefine (and unsex) the word!
Well, someone else is already bullying/harassing ME, so doing it to another person isn’t as big of a deal.
So unfortunately, I’m here to admit that I was both a victim and an aggressor when it came to middle-school (hell, and high-school) slut shaming. And I want to say, I really appreciate and love what you’re doing. Most people don’t notice that what they’re saying hurts others, or, like in my case, they get caught in the cycle of “Well, someone else is already bullying/harassing ME, so doing it to another person isn’t as big of a deal.” And people need to understand that that’s not okay.
At 23, I still feel guilty for the way I treated her.
I was home schooled for grades 6-12. There were two sisters who joined my co-op whom my friends and I liked to pick on. The older one we called a slut because she wore short shorts and revealing tops all the time. We weren’t as bad as your “friends,” but we didn’t exactly make her feel welcome. We reconnected online after high school and I apologized for being an asshole. She forgave me but I wish it hadn’t taken so long for me to be her friend. At 23, I still feel guilty for the way I treated her.
His grandmother and mom stood behind me making snarky comments about how American girls dress like such sluts.
I loved a boy. He lived halfway across the world, and I seldom got to see him. When he was here before our first year of university, he stopped talking to me a month into summer. I ran up to his house to help him pack and get answers before he left. His grandmother and mom stood behind me making snarky comments about how American girls dress like such sluts, it’s no wonder that he hadn’t wanted to talk to me. When I asked him, he said the same thing. I was “too American” to love.
It honestly took me until reading this to realize that I wasn’t alone in feeling that way in middle school.
While my middle-school experience was 8 years later and consisted of more girlfriend-drama than boy-drama, I really see a lot of my 6th and 7th grade self in these entries. It honestly took me until reading this to realize that I wasn’t alone in feeling that way in middle school. I think what you’re doing by posting these is really important, thank you so much.
Because I was ‘developed’ and liked to talk about sex, everyone assumed that I was a slut.
It was hard having boobs and being poor in high school. My clothes never fit right and my distractingly large boobs were always visible to my classmates. Because I was ‘developed’ (in the words of my mother) and liked to talk about sex (what teenager doesn’t?) everyone assumed that I was a slut. It didn’t matter that I was a virgin (until I was 18), if you liked to talk about boys and you had boobs, you must be a slut. People from school still don’t believe I was a virgin till college.
From 5th grade to my first semester of my 7th grade, I was called a slut.
When I was younger, I was labeled as a “slut”. Like any other girl at the age of 11, I was going through puberty. Confused and with no guidance, I had boyfriends who used me for their own benefit. I trusted too easily and they left cracks in my heart, and pride. I had a girl say I was pregnant with my boyfriend’s baby. From 5th grade to my first semester of my 7th grade, I was called a slut. Because I was confused about relationships. I make mistakes but I am done paying for them. I will fight.
I remember the teacher (a sixty year old man) got upset with the boy, and then called me “promiscuous.”
During my first year of high school, I had wood shop class with my best friend’s boyfriend. We sat next to each other and got along well. He was a nice guy but I got the feeling he liked me and it seemed like he was flirting with me. One day I was cutting something on the big hand saw and he came up behind me and tickled me. I flinched and screamed; luckily I didn’t get cut. I remember the teacher (a sixty year old man) got upset with the boy, and then called me “promiscuous.”
I was bullied after school on MSN. I wouldn’t let my mom go to the principal.
In 9th grade, my best friend took a photo of me on his phone in my bra, holding my shirt against myself, while playing strip poker at a party. He showed it around the school and even showed it to my mom. Luckily there was a hot tub at the party so I told her it was my bathing suit. I cried at school and everyone made fun of me. They told me they were doing it to loosen me up. I was bullied after school on MSN. I wouldn’t let my mom go to the principal. We all made up eventually but I don’t remember how.
One guy urinated on me, four girls beat the snot out of me, then another one of the guys urinated on me. They said it was my fault because I was a slut.
In Grade 8, I got into a fight with a friend after school. I later went to her boyfriend’s house to apologize. When I got there, all my “friends” were there: It was a trap. They surrounded me. They walked me to a school near by. They took my sweater - it was a cool fall night. One guy urinated on me, four girls beat the snot out of me, then another one of the guys urinated on me. They said it was my fault because I was a slut. They made up all these lies to justify hurting me but it all came down to me being a slut.
The immediate words out of my dad’s mouth were that I was offering blow jobs wantonly at school to any and every guy.
If I did my math right, I’m about 7 years younger than you, and even though I was one of the outcast unpopular friendless kids from the start I can tell you that all of this sounds pretty spot on. I fancied myself an artist and got ridiculed for drawing romantic things (all of them were tame or even non-romantic). I remember one kid calling me out because “he could see TONGUE!” and another because there was a boy on top of a girl (he had saved her from a laser?). Of course it made me feel dirty.
Fast-forward to sophomore year of high school and my worst encounter with this sort of thing (not sure if it was slut shaming but it was abuse). My parents learned that I was dating a guy long-distance. My dad’s immediate words out of his mouth were that I was offering blowjobs wantonly at school to any and every guy, nevermind that I always came home right after school and never really went out. I hadn’t even had my first kiss yet. I didn’t have a first kiss until January of this year.
It’s horrible that anyone has to deal with these problems, let alone 10 - 13 year old children.
When I started reading this, I was pretty jarred by how young you and your peers were while all this was going on. But then I looked back and remembered that when I was in middle school, I was helping my friends through self-harm problems, eating disorders, suicide attempts, bullying issues, and visits to mental hospitals. It’s horrible that anyone has to deal with these problems, let alone 10 - 13 year old children. Thank you so much for sharing your experiences. It’s very brave.
As long as both partners consent, are respectful and communicative, and the sex is safe for everyone involved, that’s great!
This is what I’d like to share: I don’t believe the word “slut” should even be a thing. I don’t think “slut” is a thing that exists, ya know what I mean? A person who has sex with many partners is simply a person enjoying their body and the way it works with other bodies. As long as both partners consent, are respectful and communicative, and the sex is safe for everyone involved, that’s great! And it’s no one else’s business to shame anyone for that. Yay for consensual sex and lots of orgasms!
When I was 14, I was sexually assaulted and then labeled the school slut by my two best friends.
Your experiences ring so true for young girls everywhere. I wish that I had kept my old diaries so badly now. When I was 14, I was sexually assaulted and then labeled the school slut by my two best friends, who spread vicious rumours about me everywhere, even to people at other schools. I would hear new things about myself every day (like apparently I was once pregnant with some 40 year old’s baby) and it was terrible. I wish more girls would understand how dangerous slut shaming can really be.
It’s time for me to stand up against this sexist crap.
In my school, girls are constantly belittled for wearing revealing clothing. My history teacher actually keeps a collection of old T-shirts that she will force her students to wear if they do not adhere to the dress code. She often jokes about her 10th grade students looking like strippers, which they don’t. (Even if they did, it’s not her decision what they put on [or don’t put on] their bodies.) It’s time for me to stand up against this sexist crap.
They all messaged me to tell me that I was awful, a slut, and I’d get beat up in high school and no one would ever date me or love me.
I was homeschooled in middle school because my parents were afraid I’d be bullied. I missed my 6th grade friends, even the girls that were mean to me, so we connected on MSN. One of them looked at my profile and saw that I identified as bi. They all messaged me to tell me that I was awful, a slut, and I’d get beat up in high school and no one would ever date me or love me. I believed them and ended up in an abusive relationship that took me four years to get out of.
After I reported him to police, all of our friends joined his side. He drugged me, and he was completely sober, yet I was branded the slut and the whore and the cunt.
I’d been deemed the “slut” in my group because of my breast size. When I tried to confide in my best friend about being beaten, she shrugged, and when I told her a mutual friend of ours had taken advantage of me when I was drunk, our entire group of friends branded me with their version of a scarlet letter. The lack of support perpetuated the abuse, and I was raped and beaten for months before I finally went to police. “You fucking slut! How could you do this to him?” How could he do that to me? After I reported him to police, all of our friends joined his side. He drugged me, and he was completely sober, yet I was branded the slut and the whore and the cunt. “How could I?” “Police would never believe a whore like you, you’re going to lose, and you’ll pay.” People I hadn’t told about the rape knew. “Oh, you’re that slut. He’s a nice guy! WTF” I don’t even fucking know you!! He can’t be that nice if he beat and raped me for months, which lead to severe PTSD and several suicide attempts.
We told our teacher, and he snapped at us and said we all dressed like sluts.
In 6th grade, I struggled with math. My teacher wasn’t someone I could feel comfortable talking to. He had a substitute in very often, Mr. B. Mr. B would go around to all of the girls while we were working and press himself against us, put his hand on our bra straps, and look down our shirts if he had the chance. We told our teacher, and he snapped at us and said we all dressed like sluts and how dare we say that about Mr. B. Mr. B was arrested 4 years later for molesting a 12 year old boy.
I still, about a decade later, have a hard time being close to my husband, and any male for that matter, because of what one teenage boy did to me.
Being just two years younger than you, so much of what you have to say resonates with me. Although my true “sexual awakening” came a few years later than yours did I experienced much of what you did socially at that age (and older). Part of the reason this blog means so much to me is because I (like most females) have seen so called “slut shaming” from every angle: I have been the victim, the perpetrator, and the silent victim.
The first incident I remember was a female friend that I remember as being “too friendly”… the first sexual contact I remember was from her in the third grade. Looking back I realize that she was sexually abused by her step father, and wish that I had been able to say something, but even at that age I “knew” I should be ashamed by what was going on between us.
A year later I let a boy in my class touch me multiple times (usually because of threats of physical violence); this time I did tell my mother, and I remember that he was grounded for a weekend. The only saving grace about that was my mother supported me and told me that I was right for coming forward.
I was called a slut in the 7th grade because I went on a walk with a boy that I didn’t even like and rumors were spread that I gave him a blow job or had sex with him (depending on who you asked). Although he was wonderful about trying to tell people the truth, it was 2 years before I could live it down.
In the 9th grade I was raped by my boyfriend at the time and spent several years blaming myself. I remember feeling so terrible afterward and not being able to tell anyone… believe it or not, for some reason, the worst part about it was that he broke up with me a few days later and told people that he would “never touch me” because I was so ugly.
I remember seeing girls bullied and called names, seeing a girl that was abused after drinking too much, and passing out, called a whore. I saw a girl that was shamed because she wasn’t afraid of being sexual (AT EIGHTEEN!), the girl who was shamed because she didn’t realize that the bra she was wearing showed through her shirt one time.
I called a girl a whore because my boyfriend tried to sleep with her. I was part of a group that ostracized two girls so badly that the only people they could rely on in the school was each other, then called them lesbians because they were so close.
Looking back, I hate it. I hate more than anything what I did to other people. I still, about a decade later, have a hard time being close to my husband, and any male for that matter, because of what one teenage boy did to me. I wake up almost every morning thinking of the girls that I tormented, and watched tormented. I don’t see them how they could be now. I see flashes of two girls at 12 years old. Another girl at 15, running away after my friends and I said something particularly awful. A 16 year old crying in the locker room, while I lowered my eyes, not wanted to get involved.
I hope, if nothing else, your blog gets people involved. What you are doing is amazing. I have so much respect for what you are trying to accomplish. Your blog is the first that has let me feel comfortable thinking about every aspect of the sexual bullying I have seen/experienced over the years.
The shame and embarrassment kept us from pressing charges.
At a highschool party my friend and I were both date raped, but because we had participated in drinking at the party, once the rumor spread about how we had sex with 3 different guys the entire highschool blamed us for our actions. Yes, we were sixteen and wanted to drink at the party, but we never planned on waking up naked in an empty room having to piece together what had gone on. The shame and embarrassment kept us from pressing charges. We were called sluts and that night still haunts us both.
I barely remember the night, but the next day at school, my ‘best friend’ told everyone how much of a slut I was.
I was in the 9th grade when I was labelled a slut. I had had boyfriends before the 9th grade, but hadn’t had much of any sexual experience. Then one night, my ‘best friend’ got me drunk, pushed a condom into my hand, pushed me into a bedroom with the boy that I was dating, and told him to be gentle with me. I barely remember the night, but the next day at school, my ‘best friend’ told everyone how much of a slut I was. She later said she just didn’t want to be the only school slut anymore.
Reading through this is like reading through one of my old diaries, but I feel like I was a lot worse.
I pushed away two of the most potentially amazing relationships because of my mom’s constant repression of my sexuality (one was a girl) and openness to religion (one was Muslim). I wasn’t 11 when I pushed them away, but the beat-down from my mom got really strong around that time. To get back at her for pushing her beliefs on me, I became the school ‘slut’ when i was around 12. Reading through this is like reading through one of my old diaries, but I feel like I was a lot worse.
Yesterday he drove past and shouted “slut” at me.
I made a terrible drunken mistake in October when my bestfriend’s boyfriend and I kissed. Next morning I didn’t remember a thing but he had (rightly) told her what had happened. She confronted me but naturally I had no defence. She said she never wanted to speak to me again: entirely fair. What wasn’t fair was the fact that within a couple of days the boyfriend had been completely forgiven, whereas I only had a couple of people to turn to. Yesterday he drove past and shouted “slut” at me.
I was ignored by my social circle and called a slut often.
When I was in high school, I made a bad decision. I gave a blowjob to my friend “Rachel’s” boyfriend “Greg.” It wasn’t the best idea. But then I told one of my best friends, “Annie.” She told me either I would tell Rachel, or she would. I told Greg to tell Rachel what happened… The next day everything changed. I was ignored by my social circle and called a slut often. “Can’t make a whore a housewife.” I was treated awfully just for one mistake, but Greg was left unscathed and kept his friends.
My own mother and step brother teamed up and called me a slut/whore on Facebook.
My first slut shame experience was when my own mother and step brother teamed up and called me a slut/whore on Facebook. I would’ve never expected that to happen, and now I decide to educate the people who shame others for their sexual desires.
In a way, I was a beneficiary of slut shaming, since I was affirmed as a “good girl” by showing no interest.
I loved reading this! Your diary resonates with me even coming from a very different place. In middle school I was doing everything I could to deflect sexual attention/feelings (read: childhood trauma, gay - a wicked combo but that’s another story), while also trying to fit in and caring so much what other girls thought of me (on a few levels)! In a way, I was a beneficiary of slut shaming, since I was affirmed as a “good girl” by showing no interest. I’m sorry we all had to deal with this shit.
Having been raised as anti-sex as possible, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.
I’d never even kissed a guy until junior year. And when I finally did, I liked it. I was studying abroad, and I came back more comfortable with myself. Well, that got me a lot more male attention. But having been raised as anti-sex as possible, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. Now at the end of my senior year, I don’t go a day without someone asking me if the rumour is true. So yes, Internet, I did sleep with that guy at that party. Yes, it was good. And yep, we broke up.
If you make one friend by standing up for them, they will be more loyal than the ten friends you would’ve kept by joining in.
I’m a 22 y/o hetero male and I never expected to connect with a 6th grade girl’s diary but it certainly takes me back. It is enlightening to realize what certain girls in my life were thinking. It also brings up shame from the few times I joined in on the bullying. I wasn’t tremendously popular but I was friends with everyone. No one particularly disliked me, and I felt in some situations that if I hadn’t joined in I’d be chastised. That being said, I was often the one to tell people to fuck off, providing I didn’t like the ones doing the picking.
So I got something to share with my kids: If you make one friend by standing up for them, they will be more loyal than the ten friends you would’ve kept by joining in.
I let all these things happen, so I take responsibility, but I let them happen because I thought THAT was who I was supposed to be, and that I would never be anything more than that.
I just wanted to say thank you so much for starting this project. I spent my eighth and ninth grade years as the “school slut” (as well as the terrifying girl that everyone thought was going to blow up the school) before I ever even slept with my long-term boyfriend (I dated the same guy on and off from 7th grade on until we divorced when I was 20). In truth, I half-way earned it. It was an incredibly abusive relationship, and he often “paraded” me around in front of his friends (sometimes with little-to-no clothes on). He once had me sit on his friend’s lap and let him touch me wherever he wanted (he got a little invasive) because the guy had been injured in an accident. I lifted my shirt/got topless for more boys than I can remember because he wanted me to “prove they were real” (I was a late bloomer, but I kind of… er… exploded when it happened).
I never slept with anyone else, or performed any sexual act on any of these boys…but it’s not like I could convince anyone else of that. It was my word against theirs, and most everyone knew that I would do “certain things” so obviously that meant I’d do anything. I did these things not because he hit me (that he saved for marriage), but because he would threaten me with disappointment and rejection, or sometimes just by telling me how worthless and “bitchy” I was for not doing things “his way.”
I hated myself so completely during those years, and attempted suicide more than once (not well enough, my family never knew). By the time I hit tenth grade I had to be home-schooled, partly for my health (I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease), but also because of the sheer amount of bullying. One of my best friends from ninth grade (a girl I also dated my ninth grade year, partly to appease my then-boyfriend, partly because I yearned for some kind of affection that wasn’t tainted) decided one day that she hated me, and started sending me death threats (I even turned one of the letters into the principal, he laughed about it and told me not to take things so seriously… she had described, in detail, how she would kill me and bury me). We later reconciled, but she never did explain why she hated me so much (she just said she did, and that she didn’t know why)… but naturally our friendship didn’t survive completely intact. We’re friendly, but not close. Actually, the only reason we spoke again after I left school was because of the same boy who abused me all those years… he gave her my cell number several months later, after my telling him not to. My middle/high-school career was short, but it was hell.
I let all these things happen, so I take responsibility, but I let them happen because I thought that THAT was who I was supposed to be, and that I would never be anything more than that. Maybe if I had had someone out there telling me “hey, it’s okay to be you, it’s okay to say no, it’s okay to do the things you want to do… and things DO get better” I might not have put myself through all that misery, and the nightmares I still deal with today. I wish I had kept a diary during these times, so that I could share them… if only with my son, so that when he’s older he’d know what it’s like to be on the other side of the fence.
I think it’s absolutely wonderful what you’re doing, and I hope to help spread the message as much as I can. Anyway, sorry for the terribly long message—keep doing what you’re doing, it’s a beautiful thing.
I’m 19 and have pretty much been bullied by my parents to the point that I had to move out of their house to get away after they found out I was sexually active.
I’m 19 and have pretty much been bullied by my parents to the point that I had to move out of their house to get away after they found out I was sexually active. I was living with them because of my myriad of health problems. They also bullied me when I was younger, calling me a slut because of things I happened to like (make-up and knee length dresses).
Fear of being called a “slut” was so intense that I abandoned exploring my sexuality. I married a partner who is sexually incompatible.
I’ve never been labeled a “slut” because I was afraid to be. After sexual assault and being told sex was bad and wrong esp. for girls as a child, fear of being called a “slut” was so intense that I abandoned exploring my sexuality. I married a partner who is sexually incompatible. I love him but I wish I’d felt like I could have talked about the abuse long ago without feeling like a slut. It would make working through this incompatibility problem much easier if I had less anxiety around sex.
I still feel awkward about my repressed childhood.
I didn’t even have my first kiss until I was 21, and I didn’t have sex until I was 23. It wasn’t for lack of interest, but rather being in denial about my sexuality and also supreme social awkwardness. Thanks for giving another perspective—I still feel awkward about my repressed childhood. I hope your project helps lead to more normality around sexuality for all young people.
When you’re young and being ridiculed by your peers for being a “slut” or “whore,” you don’t have the foresight to realize that the remainder of your life will not be controlled by a meaningless label.
I just wanted to let you know that I think what you’re doing is fantastic. As an adult (if that’s what you want to consider me at 23-years-old), it’s easy to look back at these situations in life and see them as absurd because you’re aware that it’s a blip in your life. When you’re young and being ridiculed by your peers for being a “slut” or “whore,” you don’t have the foresight to realize that the remainder of your life will not be controlled by a meaningless label. Thanks for sharing.
Sometimes it was true, sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes it was the most serious moment ever, sometimes it was so ridiculous all I could do was laugh.
In middle school I was anonymous. In 9th-grade I was the “slut”. My boyfriend told people I gave him a blow job. Untrue. I broke up with him. Rumors, accusations, groundings, and general drama ensued well into 12th-grade. Sometimes it was true, sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes it was the most serious moment ever, sometimes it was so ridiculous all I could do was laugh. It always hurt. Thank you for putting yourself out there for all of us and sharing a difficult time in your life.
I still hate that I didn’t stand up for myself against him. I guess I was too afraid.
When I was in 5th grade, a 4th grader grabbed my ass. I had no idea how to react. I glared at him, but I didn’t say anything. I just stood there, not defending myself… I didn’t feel like I could stand up for myself for some stupid reason. Thankfully, someone else did. My boyfriend at the time was suspended for a couple of weeks for fighting with the boy who touched me inappropriately. I still hate that I didn’t stand up for myself against him. I guess I was too afraid.
I am going to tell my kids that they should talk when they are troubled.
I never got this sort of thing. Growing up, the worst I got was name calling because of my scoliosis. But, there were whispers of girls who shouldn’t be talked to, locker talk about this girl or that boy, a world I never knew. Even when my friend got pregnant in grade 9, it was not a world I knew. But now that I know it is there, I am going to tell my kids that they should talk when they are troubled, or if this kinda stuff is going around. (My friend who had the kid did use a condom, but it broke.)
What strikes me as most upsetting was how I didn’t even really enjoy sex until I was much older, yet I still engaged in sexual activity with boys at school just because I thought that was how I was supposed to act.
I think that this phase of a young person’s life is so often neglected, and yes, the boy craziness and obsession with looks can be annoying, but it is indicative of what young girls are learning about society. While in middle school, I was very similar to you. What strikes me as most upsetting was how I didn’t even really enjoy sex until I was much older, yet I still engaged in sexual activity with boys at school just because I thought that was how I was supposed to act. Thanks for sharing!
I hope girls see this and realize it’s not their fault, it’s the fucked up society around them.
I’ve been called a slut more times than I care to count. Not in middle school, but in high school and college I managed to get the title. It started after my first boyfriend (I figured nobody would think it was slutty to give him a blow job because he was my boyfriend, I was wrong) and followed me. It was one of the main things my emotionally abusive ex used against me, and has caused so much harm. I hope girls see this and realize it’s not their fault, it’s the fucked up society around them.
One of the boys basically tried to pull a “Do you know who I am?” claiming that his higher social status entitled him to my body.
I was in high school when I first dared to do anything with my sexuality. I went out with some friends one night and let one of the popular guys touch my boobs. For weeks, I got phone calls at my house from guys demanding that I let them do the same. One of them basically tried to pull a “Do you know who I am?” claiming that his higher social status entitled him to my body. I was so traumatized that I didn’t date again until college - better loneliness than disrespect.
The older I get, the more I realize that the girls I idolized, envied, or despised in middle school are people who were going through their own issues, who I might have really liked if I’d gotten to know them.
Thank you so much for this blog— it resonates with me on so many levels. In 6th grade, I was the awkward girl sitting by myself at lunch and having crushes from afar, but I still feel so, so much empathy for you, and for how really hard being an adolescent is, in so many ways. The older I get, the more I realize that the girls I idolized, envied, or despised in middle school are people who were going through their own issues, who I might have really liked if I’d gotten to know them.
PS— thank you also for prompting me to go back to some of my old journals (I’ve been posting entries on my blog). It’s great to see my old feelings, perspectives, thoughts on friends and boys, with the fresh eyes of the older and wiser 27 year old me.
I am sixteen and I have to say that although your entries are from a much younger age I feel like I am in the midst of all that now.
I am sixteen and I have to say that although your entries are from a much younger age I feel like I am in the midst of all that now. The parts where people call other girls ‘sluts’ because they have ‘gone to third’. I can relate to most of your posts. My days were made or broken by the things boys would say to me. In fact I went through my whole time in middle school convinced I was ugly and fat because guys didn’t ask me out. I am glad this is here, it really shows how cruel and strange school can be. There is no reason to call someone a slut or a whore. I have realized just how powerful words can be. Keep posting please!
People called me “slut” as much as they called me by my name.
Junior high was hell for me, too. People regularly asked me if I stuffed my bra or if they could have the stuffing I SURELY had in my shirt, 3 boys sexually harassed me on the school bus, guys tried to grope my breasts or butt more times than I care to remember, people called me “slut” as much as they called me by my name, and I wanted to either switch schools or kill myself. All because puberty hit me early and I had large breasts. Keep up the good work, Emily. The slut-shaming has to stop.
Bonus twist! I was coming to realize that I was bisexual and had a number of mini romances with various girls in my social group.
I too kept a journal, although my sexual awakening came around 8th grade. Bonus twist! I was coming to realize that I was bisexual and had a number of mini romances with various girls in my social group. We were definitely the outcasts, so our exploits weren’t as noted as yours. However, when parents found out about my having made out with the girl I dated for the longest, I was immediately banned from all future birthday parties and sleepovers. Which yeah, ended up in my attempting suicide.
It was strange how the guys acted like they wanted our bodies but simultaneously seemed like they hated them.
I really appreciate what you’re doing with your blog. My experiences had more to do with body-shaming than slut-shaming, but I think they both stem from the same kind of attitudes. I remember that in seventh grade, the boys on the school bus would make really derogatory comments about vaginas. One day, someone had seafood in their lunch box and a kid said, “It smells like fish in here.” One of the guys shouted out in response, “All the girls in here, close your fucking legs!” Even though it wasn’t directed at me, it was embarrassing. Those kinds of comments made me wonder if guys were really disgusted by our genitalia. It made me afraid to let my first boyfriend touch me there, even though I wanted him to. It was strange how the guys acted like they wanted our bodies but simultaneously seemed like they hated them. Instead of standing up for each other, the girls would gang up with the boys and enthusiastically join in the body-shaming. They must have thought they were diverting the negative attention away from themselves and gaining male approval, but they were really just internalizing the misogyny. In hindsight it seems so obvious.
I’m still struggling with finding a balance of being sexually confident but not letting myself be used as a sexual object.
When I was in high school, I was “dating” this boy who once asked me to masturbate for him. I refused. He sat there in silence and then informed me that he couldn’t see me anymore because he was a Christian and I was a Heathen. I dated him the next year for a whole year, and it ended poorly. This was 14 years ago. I’m still struggling with finding a balance of being sexually confident but not letting myself be used as a sexual object.
He was praised for hooking up with me, and I was slut-shamed by my old “friends.”
My junior year I went to third base with the “hot guy” from my old school whom I was attracted to, but had no feelings for. I asked him not to tell, but of course he did. Soon everybody in my old class knew, and I heard from a friend that another girl said she “couldn’t look at me the same way” because I had given him a blow job. This was the only time I’d done more than kiss during high school. He was praised for hooking up with me, and I was slut-shamed by my old “friends.”
I went home crying and humiliated. It’s been 5 years and that memory still haunts me.
When I was in eighth grade, a girl whom my friends and I were fighting with told the school counselors that I didn’t wear underwear to school. So, the school officials sat me down and questioned me about whether or not I wore underwear. I told them I did wear underwear (I really did, not that it wasn’t any of their business) but they didn’t believe me so they started questioning my friends about my underwear. I went home crying and humiliated. It’s been 5 years and that memory still haunts me.
It doesn’t make you a slut or a whore or a skank. And anyone who says those things about you is in the wrong, and needs to be corrected.
Emily, I actually signed up for tumblr for the first time so that I could read your diary entries. When I was in grade school, I wasn’t slut-shamed, but I stood by silently while my friends and the popular kids slut-shamed other girls they deemed to be too “skanky” to hang out with. I know that their opinions of these girls colored my opinions of them, and kept me from having what could have been great friendships with these girls who probably really needed a friend.
I’m not sure what made the kids determine that these girls were sluts or skanks or hoes. It probably had something to do with something that happened at a party I wasn’t even invited to, or didn’t even know about. I wasn’t popular at all, but I knew that unless I wanted to be really *un*-popular, I had to go along with what the cool kids wanted, otherwise I’d get teased and picked on too.
There is such a gap between our interest in sex as a young teen and our ability to handle what goes with it… and it’s a shame that schools aren’t more open with kids. A lot of it has to do with the absurdly simplistic sex education we get in our public schools and with parents’ unwillingness to give their kids some straight talk about sex.
Imagine if all the parents would be honest with their kids and say: “I know you are curious about sex. Let me just tell you, this doesn’t make you a bad person. If you have feelings for someone, it’s natural to want to express those feelings physically. I hope you’ll wait to do that until you are much older. Sex and sexual activity are things that are difficult to understand emotionally at this age. But just so you know, if you get caught up in the moment and go a little too far, it doesn’t mean you can’t turn back. It doesn’t make you a slut or a whore or a skank. And anyone who says those things about you is in the wrong, and needs to be corrected.”
I wish I could reach out to those girls now and tell them I’m sorry for not sticking up for them. However I know now that that would just be a way for me to alleviate my guilt and might open old wounds for these girls. They deserve to be happy now, knowing that those years are over, and I hope that they are confident in themselves and have found friends and partners who appreciate and love them for who they are.
In 8th grade, I was called a whore and a rumor was spread that I “stuffed my bra with jello.”
In 8th grade, I was called a whore and a rumor was spread that I “stuffed my bra with jello.” The cause? A girl that disliked me saw the cutlet fall out of my Wonderbra in gym class. From there, other stories were made up about me. All unwarranted and untrue. Sadly, these stuck around through high school. I’ve often wanted to “facebook” the girl and make her aware of how her actions affected me.
Be strong, be above it, and focus on family. It gets better.
No single, particular event from middle school sticks out to me as the absolute worst, but I did go through two long periods of friendlessness and incredible sadness after my friends dumped me. Once was in 4th grade, the other in 7th. And then in between there’s of course ruthless gossip and nonstop drama. I do remember cutting myself, and crying all the time. Girls, boys, everyone going through this: this too shall pass. Be strong, be above it, and focus on family. It gets better.
After summer I started dating a boy in 8th grade as a rebound. We’re engaged now.
This is absolutely wonderful and you are very brave for writing this. I was never a popular girl, I was the scary goth girl with the big boobs that guys would catcall at but were too scared of to ask me out. I did end up dating a guy in 7th grade who would call me nonstop and would just hang out with me, but I dumped him for calling too much and I was DEVASTATED for about a week after, thinking my life was ruined. After summer I started dating a boy in 8th grade as a rebound. We’re engaged now.
It hurt. I cried. And then rumors got spread all over school I was the girl who’d “done anal.”
So there was this time when the guy I adored got tired of trying to fuck me (I was still a virgin). He flipped me onto my stomach, saying he was going to give me a back rub to loosen me up. You can guess what happened next. The fun part was because he’d never had sex before, and was trying anal on the advice of his friends, he failed to use any lube and basically just tore into me. It hurt. I cried. And then rumors got spread all over school I was the girl who’d “done anal.”
"You don’t want to be friends with her. She masturbates with a toothbrush. People call her Oral-B."
I switched schools in 7th grade and was becoming friendly with a sweet girl. One of the popular girls came up to me and said, “You don’t want to be friends with her. She masturbates with a toothbrush. People call her Oral-B.” I wish I had had the courage to continue to be friends with the girl. A month later a boy asked if I had gotten a boob job, thus starting a number of rumors. I hope by recognizing how universal these experiences are, we can encourage the next generation to be kinder.
I was also called n**ger lover and sp*c lover, because I had boyfriends who were not white.
Thanks for sharing your experience. I was also the “slut” in middle school… I was also called n**ger lover and sp*c lover, because I had boyfriends who were not white. It was an awful experience and I dropped out as soon as it was legally possible.
It was hell, and I couldn’t ask for help because I was humiliated.
This rings so many bells. At about the same age, I had a ‘boyfriend’. He and his friends came round one evening to play in the garden. We kissed once, closed mouths. Then we all played strip spin the bottle. I was not the only one that (reluctantly) took clothes off, but when they relayed the story at school, I was the one that got the hassle for it. People would sing the stripping tune at me and ask me to take my shirt off. It was hell, and I couldn’t ask for help because I was humiliated. I haven’t thought about it in a long time. I was considered a slut for ages. But I didn’t have sex ‘til I was 20. Go figure. I had some good times growing up, but this wasn’t one of them. Thanks for this, anyway. You’re brave to post your diary, and ten-year-old me feels a lot less alone.
My first slut experience was through my best guy friend telling me that my best girlfriend was now calling me a slut.
My first slut experience was through my best guy friend telling me that my best girlfriend was now calling me a slut. He had left school permanently because of emotional trauma but still kept in touch with us every week. And then she had stayed a back a year because of physical health issues. I started experimenting with clothing, short dresses and style and my love of Delia’s led her to call me a slut. And she ignored me for the rest of high-school.
6th grade, 2002: Everyone thinks I stuff my bra.
Amanda has turned all my friends against me. Everyone thinks I stuff my bra. If I go to the bathroom, they give me handfuls of tissues to “adjust myself.” I have to change in front of everyone for gym or they think I’m stuffing. My friends told me at lunch that I would get in a fight with her if it wasn’t true. That being silent and not hitting her is proving that I do stuff. People walk into me to try to feel if it’s true. I don’t want to get suspended.
It was devastating, and surreal that I had gone to being someone who was terrified at the prospect of kissing someone to being a whore.
"It was a long time ago - 1972 to be exact. I was a freshman in high school, at my first house party when the parents were not home. I had had one drink (with almost no experience drinking) and was sitting in the kitchen talking with some guys, guys I thought of as friends. The subject of sex came up and I (stupidly) made the observation, based on ZERO experience, that it sounded pretty awesome. From that moment on I was a slut; and that moniker followed me throughout high school. It was a long, painful four years. My first name starts with an S so I was “S*** Slut” all thought high school. It was devastating, and surreal that I had gone to being someone who was terrified at the prospect of kissing someone to being a whore."
I’m also the same age and was suddenly transported back to being a terrified closeted gay kid.
I just devoured every entry on this blog. I’m also the same age and was suddenly transported back to being a terrified closeted gay kid. The desire for approval and friends; the ripple effect of a casual comment, the shame and self-flagellation - it’s all resonating. Thank you for doing this and I hope that many people read this and feel a release. - Timmy
For me, it was less the comments from my peers and more those of my mother that did the real damage.
This is such a good idea. It’s killing me a little to read your entries but it’s also so important that this get out there. I remember the casual ‘slut’ comments in middle school and high school and how its use at a well-chosen moment could just destroy the girl being targeted. For me, though, it was less the comments from my peers and more those of my mother that did the real damage. It got better, but damn I wish someone had told me it would. You are doing an awesome thing.
There are so many themes in this project that resonate with my adolescence and the struggles I went through.
There are so many themes in this project that resonate with my adolescence and the struggles I went through. Your hindsight comments are enlightening, and I hope that young men and women struggling with their adolescence may find comfort and foresight within your pages [even amidst the somewhat alien details, like three way calling and Hanson posters].
We focus a lot on the way kids bully and abuse each other, but frankly I think a lot of “adults” are setting a dangerous precedent when it comes to judging others.
I was never called a “slut,” mostly because I was extremely unattractive until the age of 19 or so, and virtually no one wanted to have anything physical to do with me. However, I did have a reputation for being a bitch and for being unattractive. I can appreciate how painful these situations are. I also find it disconcerting that I have female friends who are well into their 20s who will throw the term ‘slut’ around far more readily than I am comfortable with. We focus a lot on the way kids bully and abuse each other, but frankly I think a lot of “adults” are setting a dangerous precedent when it comes to judging others. I feel like we need to set a better example. I hope this is a place to start that. - Katie
Don’t be afraid to find out who you are and who you want to be, and become that woman. That woman, you will find, is absolutely amazing.
I’m 31 now and it’s crazy how similar the entries in your diary are to mine, however, I think mine would actually be from 8th and 9th grades…I guess I was a bit… “behind.” Still, the fact that I, and apparently a lot of other women, experienced this bizarre drama-trauma throughout key emotional and sexual developmental years is striking. If I were to give any young women who are currently experiencing similar situations at the present time any advice at all, it would be to find out who YOU are; and to realize who you are DOES NOT depend on how others see you whether it be the boy you like, his friends, other girls in your class, or even your best friend(s). Don’t be afraid to find out who you are and who you want to be, and become that woman. That woman, you will find, is absolutely amazing.
I want to know what my life would have been like if that hadn’t happened. I feel like it changed everything about me.
1988, Little Rock, AR: When I was 10, 25 years ago, I kissed my first boy. His name was Ryan, he made me weak in the knees when he kissed me, and he told all the boys during 5th grade football practice that we had sex. My best friend believed Ryan, not me. A boy named Judson, also a fifth-grader, corroborated Ryan’s lie . He looked me right in the eyes, this boy did, and kept smugly repeating “I saw you, I saw you do it,” as I got more red-faced and kept screaming “No you didn’t! Why are you lying?! Why are you doing this?” In 8th grade, it happened again, with a different boy. I have always wondered why I was picked to be lied about. Other girls kissed boys in 5th grade. Other girls did things too, didn’t they? I still don’t know why these boys lied about it. And I really don’t understand why people believed them, why it was so easy to believe such blatant lies about me. I want to know what my life would have been like if that hadn’t happened. I feel like it changed everything about me.
I would like to think that if I had read someone else’s experiences at age 13, I may have been able to change my course, redirect my energy.
I just read every entry here and it all could have been ripped right from my 7th-8th grade diary. I am a woman in my 30’s now, happily married, gainfully employed - and sometimes when I can’t fall asleep at night, I think back to some of these embarrassing and hurtful memories. They really did change me and maybe even influenced future poor decisions. I hope you keep up with the entries. I would like to think that if I had read someone else’s experiences at age 13, I may have been able to change my course, redirect my energy.