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I got coerced into sending nudes for over a year. I was talking to this cool older dude and we had started dating and about two months after we did he had asked me for nudes and said porn just didn't do it for him anymore. He always said stuff like, 'Oh please, porn doesn't do it anymore, I need this." It took me a year to block him and get away from him.
- AnIn 2019 I was sexually assaulted by one of my exes. I remember after it happened in the drunken and spinning state I was in, but coherent enough to understand what had just transpired, I called one of my friends. I was crying and telling him how it was my fault and I let this happen, knowing full well it wasn't. I thought they were a close friend but instead they told me I wasn't raped. They told me because I opened that front door and let him in that it was my fault. I didn't ask to black out in a drunken haze and have that happen to me. I didn't ask for the last few shots to be forced into me before passing out. I opened the door but I didn't ask for what was done to me after. Someone I thought was a close friend said I was victimizing myself. He would later go on to call me "slut" and "whore" as a joke, like it didn't hurt my feelings. He would call that incident a "sex escapade." Constantly telling me it was my fault. What he didn't know is that I isolated myself for months after it had happened. Any physical contact with anyone even family members, a hug, you name it could send me into a full blown panic attack. And it wasn't just him but other friends of mine I thought I could tell. Friends. People that are supposed to support you, be there for you, love you, and care for you. About 4 of my friends completely invalidated what happened to me. Saying drunken consent was consent. "Drunk words are sober thoughts." Like I wanted that. I felt invalid. I felt like my body and emotions had been violated. My trust in any and everyone was gone. If I couldn't tell those who were closest to me, then I can't tell anyone else. It's not fair. I know what happened. I know what was done to me. Regardless of what anyone says, no one asks for something like that. Drunken consent is NOT consent. - Anonymous
I finally decided to get back into dating after surviving a a stroke. It had been years of working on recovery, and I missed being in a relationship. SO. I decided to try online dating. One match in particular decided to tell me I was no longer wife material or worthy of being in a relationship with him because I had been promiscuous in my past. He basically called me garbage. When in return I had been nothing but kind! It was shocking. -- Leah Cotham, Michigan
I was raped in February, 2020. And my parents still feel the need to "slut" shame me. I have been in a committed, loving relationship with one amazing guy since the beginning of January. It is the longest relationship I have ever had. Also we both said I love you before anything physical happened between us. Still my parents feel the need to bring up the fact that I am having sex. They know nothing about my life or even me, if I am being honest. They only know what I allow them to know. How do I get them to see that I don't need their hurtful comments and attitudes? - Anonymous in Myersville, Maryland
I was raped when I was 15 years old by two boys from another high school. They roofied me. They not only vaginally raped me but anally, too. They bragged to all their friends that it was consensual.
I was unconscious. I remember waking up naked with my clothes thrown everywhere, feeling weird but not knowing what happened. When I got to school on the following Monday, I was "slut" shamed by everyone at my school. When asked, I denied everything. I continued to be "slut" shamed. I had no friends. I ate lunch by myself every day. I never reported the rape because that would have been admitting that I had sex. There was no sex education in my school to teach us what consent was. I didn’t realize what happened to me until I was 20 and learned about consent. Then I started having flashbacks to that night. My life has never been the same since I was raped. I have serious rage issues and I dream of murdering the men who did this to me. I went on to be abused by other men. I have a hard time trusting anyone. I have hardly ever made a female friend. "Slut" shaming ruins lives and sets rapists free. -- Anonymous I grew up in foster care, so when the time came to leave my abusive ex-husband, I was left with no resources or family support. I started dancing as a means to support myself, as my ex wasn’t paying child support and doing drugs with my bio parents; just to isolate me more. I was alone.
I was always apprehensive about meeting men from my job, but he insisted I could trust him since he knew my boss and played on the club's softball team. I was pretty burned out from being a single mom and took him up on his offer of Sunday night line dancing. Since I expected an older crowd I thought it would be safer. It’s almost like he knew, I had a feeling he couldn’t be trusted. He apparently paid the bartender's car payment for getting me drunk. I woke up the next morning in severe pain from the waist down. I couldn’t hold my urine and I was unable to go number two for 21 days because of the bruising and pain. He had raped me. The next day I called and asked, “WTH happened last night, I can’t even sit.” His response was, “you said you wanted it, who’s gonna believe you anyway, you’re the stripper with crack head parents, that was the tv that fell on you anyway.” I was shocked at the audacity and scared for some reason. Me and my therapist decided against reporting it as I was already suicidal and the public shaming I would have endured could have resulted in suicide. He was later fired from his tennis instructor job for being too aggressive with a married woman and busted for sleeping with a bunch of women and being inappropriate. He was shamed so badly for that, he has since moved away so I don’t have to worry about seeing him. This happened in June 2017 I still haven’t been out drinking and I live in constant fear of seeing him, not knowing what all he did to me that night. I don’t even want to imagine what all happened. I have guilt daily that I can’t report him. I fear he will hurt another woman, but I won’t survive what they will drag me though if I report him. I’ll always live with guilt now for not having the courage to speak out. -- Anonymous in Lafayette, Louisiana I can't remember a school that didn't have some sort of bullying. I went through it in elementary school but when I got to high school it got worse. I thought students being more grown up and mature would change things but it didn't. It all came down to shortening your skirt, wearing tight clothes and flirting with boys. I was always harassed by other girls for not being like them. I wasn't the only girl that was called prude for not dating boys. I was interested in boys just like any normal girl but I was 15 and dating was something I had never done. I remember a girl asking me if I was lesbian and soon everyone in school was calling me that. They were even making stories up that I was making out with girls in the bathrooms. I was branded a lesbian slut. After playing volleyball with the school team, they let boys into the shower while I was standing naked showering. It was the shock of my life when I saw them laughing at me, stuck in that shower trying to cover myself. I remember them talking about my small breasts. It was the worst humiliation I had ever gone through and something that I could never tell out of shame. It happened and they knew I would never say anything. Looking back on it I think it could have been worse.
So I was 14 when I first had sex, and I thought it was amazing and the boy generally liked me. I hadn't realised the turning points e.g. he'd ask to be snuck in, get drunk, he'd smoke in front of me and never wanted to meet my mom. He blocked me on everything the night we did it and then I went to school. People turned and stared, yelled at me, called me a slut and showed me a video. I didn't know he had recorded it. I moved schools but that doesn't leave you, apparently. After, people continually asked for sex or nudes, all were answered NO. Then my mom started being off with me after she'd seen the video. I had explained what'd happened and she didn't believe me. Then at 15, I came back on snapchat and met someone that meant a lot to me. He didn't live in the same area as me but I'd met him before. He never asked for nudes, but at 15 you're exploring your body more. Masturbation is a fine thing and sometimes, I thought that I'd take photos, and I never sent them. I'd learnt my lesson on that 100%. About 8 weeks later my mom came in. Well, she had my phone, she knew I liked this boy and she'd seen my nudes. She then labeled me a slut and an embarrassment. I understand why she's angry but hearing those words from your mother isn't the nicest, I'll admit. I'm nearly 16 and that's actually the legal age to leave home if you wish and she said well in 7 months, you can f*ck off. -- Purdy
When I was 15, I lied to my parents and told them I was going to a party. At said party, I got extremely intoxicated and also had been smoking weed. I eventually blacked out and my best friend, for my safety, locked me in a bedroom in the basement to sleep since I was completely incoherent. A guy, who I was friends with, managed to pick the lock to that bedroom and began to rape me. I was too out of it to remember what was going on and to even try to stop it. I still don't remember a lot from that night, but I do remember the pain I felt from him forcing himself on me. It became extremely rough at one point as well, and I remember my head being slammed into the wall and another time slamming into the nightstand. Because everyone knew that I was sexually active at that point in my life, what came after that night was worse than the rape itself. Many people said that "she must've wanted it" and "a slut can't get raped, she'll always enjoy it." Some of this came from the people that I thought were my friends. I internalized a lot of what happened to me due to sexual bullying throughout high school and began to view myself as others were viewing me, a "slut." It has taken a major toll on my mental health and has led me into an emotionally abusive and manipulative relationship from 17 until I was 19. I also was never able to report anything that happened that night because my parents never knew I was there and I didn't want them to find out; I also just always believed that it was my fault for being too 'promiscuous' and getting too intoxicated. Thankfully, I have found a good relationship with a man that truly respects me for who I am and who I was. I am doing so much better now and have come to terms that, yes I do regret some things that I did, but there is no way to change it, so I choose to just accept it and keep it in the past. My sexuality does not define me as a person, and I will never let it define me again. -- Anonymous in Maryland
After holding on to my virginity for so long I finally felt university is the perfect time to have a serious relationship (involving sex). I met this guy named Ahmed (fictitious name) to whom I entrusted my heart and my virginity. Was it worth it? NO. He turned into a monster with none of the Prince Charming fantasies he promised to be to me.
I dated this Muslim guy named Ashraf (fictitious name) and though he was everything I ever wanted, his family kept calling me "kaffir" and all sorts of racist comments were constantly thrown at me by his parents and his siblings. I was so tormented by his family because of my race and my religion, I finally said enough is enough and rejected his marriage proposal. He kept saying he wanted to leave his family and everything behind. He wanted us to relocate to another country and start a life together, he emphasized how much he doesn't want to shatter my dreams and wanted to pay my tuition fees so I can pursue my Law studies at the country we'll relocate to (any country of my choice). I loved Ashraf, but his definition of what's right was different from mine. To me, anal sex isn't normal culturally and religiously, but he kept insisting we should do that while claiming he was ready to risk it all for me but I couldn't do something so small for him. Well, I moved on to Ahmed who cheated countless times and when I confronted him, he kept "slut" shaming me. It really broke me big time. My head had these questions clicking constantly, "Why did he call me a slut while I'm only sleeping with him?", "Why is he cheating?", "Isn't being a virgin good enough?". My break up with him left me feeling like trash. I forgave him but I never forgave myself. I resorted to over drinking, intense alcoholism and a lot of times after that incident, I cried myself to sleep and tried to kill myself countless times. I kept calling my mom telling her to pray for me but I couldn't say what was eating me inside. I was a walking corpse for a long time after the break up. But I learnt to move on. I look at myself right now and I still can't believe I survived that. Imagine how breaking it was. I moved on to Bruno (fictitious name), and if I was a judge of a Monster Award Ceremony I would have given him the trophy. I endured his drama, his fists, him violently pulling my hair, him pushing me towards walls, his uncontrollable anger and jealousy, his cheating... I could go on and on with a list of more brutal things he did to me. One night he so violently pushed me to his bed that I banged my head and almost died. That very night I wanted to leave and he came to me crying and apologizing for mistakenly thinking I didn't answer his texts while I did, but the network was bad. He was a lawyer and yes he taught me a lot about being a better law student, and taught me personally whatever I didn't understand. His intelligence attracted me but no thanks, there's no room for intelligent monsters in my heart. I'm glad I'm in the hands of an amazing man who despite our misunderstandings, sees the good in me, respects the wounds I've endured and is trying his best every single day not to salt the wounds of my past. He's a brown skinned angel, always well-scented, kind, smart, supportive and most of all understanding. -- Maria Silvanus in Tanzania I am a 40 year old married woman with children. I am a professional with a comfortable life. But every day I am plagued with memories and shame from my experiences of slut shaming as an adolescent. I grew up in Catholic Ireland, including Catholic schools with no sex education and parents who never taught me about periods never mind sex. I had a critical and cold mother and was always a worrier with low self esteem.
By 15 my parents' relationship was a mess, home life was horrible and my parents separated as my other siblings had all moved on to university. I was left at home with my mother who retreated to her bedroom and I was essentially alone. Like my peers I began drinking heavily at weekends and soon got involved with a group of local boys. They were essentially a street gang and very different to the boys I was meant to hang around with (though I wasn't meant to spend any time with boys at all). Soon I started to try to win affection from one boy and it seemed to be sexual acts were the way to do this. I couldn't understand when this didn't work out. But his friends were only too willing to give me the attention I so desperately craved. They all shared their stories and before long I was the local "slut." They shouted disgusting insults to me in the street. They came to my house at night and tried to get me to come out. They told other friends who wanted in on the action. I was in so much misery but I had no idea how to get out of it. I got something from being part of the gang. I didn't realise the price I was paying. My mother realised what was going on and was disgusted with me, tho never had a straight conversation with me. She could barely look at me. Girls I went to school with heard and talked. My reputation was in ruins. I finally left for university after years of this. I quickly developed anxiety and depression, more so than I had ever experienced before. When I would come home I would bump into these people from my childhood and I would still be laughed at and ridiculed. I went on a date when I was 30 and one of the men in question had a conversation with my date when we bumped into him. I never heard from the date again. It didn't get left behind in childhood, in reality or in my head. The next 20 years I struggled alone until I finally sought therapy. I have spent the last 10 years in psychotherapy and I am still suffering with shame today. I understand and forgive myself for the part I played in all of this. But I am terrified that my name is still mud. I'm terrified that now I have returned home with my family that my children or husband will find out about my past. I feel as though I will never be free. -- Niamh in Ireland I have seen multiple confessions on my school's confessions page victim-blaming and slut-shaming women who have been sexually assaulted. These attacks are often 'justified' by the 'promiscuous clothing' the victims wore. Seeing these posts has made me incredibly disappointed in the people writing these confessions and the people liking them (some of which are my friends).
When I was 14 I met a guy in my class that I ended up liking. A shared friend of ours told me that he wanted to hang out with me more and gave me his number. We talked for a while and we were planning on smoking weed together (my first time) and I suggested going to a park. He was insistent on going to my house, and eventually, I said okay. I was just so desperate to like him. I accidentally fell asleep and woke up to sixteen missed calls from him, but he angrily agreed to still meet. When he got to my house, he claimed that he already smoked an entire joint and told me to smoke the one he handed me. I had never gotten high before and trusted him when I smoked the entire thing. I had stolen some of my parent's liquor and I had my very first sip of alcohol. It was disgusting and I told him that I didn't want to have anymore but he kept egging me on. I don't recall how much I had, but I don't remember him having any. I heard my dad wake up and told him to leave and he did. I was completely crossed and remember flashes of him asking if he should come back and me saying yes. The next thing I remember is he and I making out and it tasting like a fucking microwave burrito. After that, all I remember is A LOT of pain *down there* and then him leaving when he accidentally turned a light on. He told all of his friends and random people that I didn't know that we had had sex. My parents eventually found out and blamed me for it. I know I shouldn't have invited a boy over when they didn't know, but the slut-shaming didn't cease for several months. I started wearing more revealing clothes as a way to try to change who I was. When I came here, I've had my FAIR share of hookups and my friends, the guys especially, have repeatedly teased me about this. I always thought that my school was an accepting place, and while I love a lot of the people I've met here, those comments really hurt. Those same friends like posts similar to the ones I mentioned above. To this day, I physically can't have penetrative sex and I can't help but feel broken, especially when I tell the guys that and see the reaction on their faces. I'm not sure if it has to do with that night, but I just wanted to say it sucks. It sucks that assault still happens and it sucks that women have to deal with derogatory comments and it sucks that people are more focused on "what she was wearing." I'm just tired. While being in this support group has helped me process the incident, I’d be lying if I said I’ve completely processed it. Part of me still blames myself and believes I should have known better. Between what that boy told everyone in school, my parent’s values, and the posts that I saw, I can't help but feel disgusted. -- Anonymous in Berkeley, California - QuinnIn elementary school this guy and I were kind of close. We had a love-hate relationship where half the time we’d flirt and half the time we’d fight. We were very physical with each other, but not in an inappropriate way. Stuff really heated up and the end of grade 8. We were never an official couple, never kissed or anything, but we definitely had a thing going on. Then we graduated and went to different high schools and our only interaction was him liking my pics on Instagram. Until summer after grade 10. I had lost a lot of weight (over 50 lbs) and posted about it on my birthday. He messaged me saying I looked great and happy birthday. I had missed him, and was overjoyed. We had a few brief conversations throughout the rest of the summer. One night as I was scrolling through Instagram, I noticed that a girl who had bullied me in elementary school who was also friends with him had posted a picture and he commented flame emojis on it. I was quite ticked, and decided to post my own picture and see what he’d do now that we were talking again. I posted it and watched as the likes came in. He commented “damn”. Then he texted me calling me baby girl and asked me to send nudes. I thought he was drunk and asked about it in the morning. Well, he wasn’t drunk and he said let’s just keep it between us. I was naive and thought he must really like me. After all, I’d known him for eight years. He had been the guy who stuck up for me when I was fat and ugly, the guy who always reminded people how smart and talented he thought I was. Surely if he wanted to see me naked he must really like me a lot. That day after school I took some cute semi naked pics to send to him. That night he asked for pics and I sent them to him. He liked them a lot and asked if I could send him a video. I said ya ok, and he asked what I was up for. I said anything, and he asked to see my “kitty” as he called it. I sent a couple videos of me touching myself and said he better send me something and he sent me a dick pic. It was a good pic but I would have at least liked a video in return. I kept sending though, because I was turned on and it was fun knowing that I got him off. We sent again the next couple nights, and then he asked me if he could confess something. This was it, I thought, he was going to profess his love. Was I ever wrong. Apparently he had also been talking to this other girl who had recently gone through a breakup, and he now felt guilty and wanted to go back to being friends. I was bummed, but was like ok, whatever. But then the next night he texted me wanting to do it again. So we did. Then we agreed to end it for good and I left Instagram for a bit. I got a new account and he followed me and I followed him and we’d talk and stuff and I still had a shred of hope left that he’d realize he should date me, but then he started harassing me for nudes. I keep saying no, because I don’t want to get hurt anymore, and he keeps harassing me. It sucks because I feel like sex is all he values me for. I also know if our previous classmates found out, I’d be the one blamed, because he was popular. I feel like I should be ashamed of what I did, but I don’t see what’s shameful about enjoying my sexuality. -- Quinn
I tried talking about it to a close friend, but they just blamed me for all that is happening.3/7/2021
I have experienced slut shaming so much, just because I've had three boyfriends and my nudes got leaked. I tried talking about it to a close friend, but they just blamed me for all that is happening. I turned to self-harming, but stopped a couple months ago and I have tried to take my own life away. And I don't know what to do. Why is this happening to me? - Alanis Dear Alanis: I'm following up on my email to make sure you've reached out to a parent or teacher for help. 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. Please check out the resources available to you at the link below. I am always here to talk, as well. Love, Emily
People need to know just how early this kind of behavior can start, and how devastating it can be.3/4/2021
What happened to me is not much compared to what so many go through, but I still think it is important to share. On my second day of kindergarten, a boy in the other class grabbed me and pulled me under the climber, saying his friend wanted to see me. Then his friend grabbed me and kissed me. I ran away and didn’t tell anyone, because my mother had told me I shouldn’t kiss boys and I was embarrassed even though it wasn’t my fault. Somehow the word got around school that I had kissed him under the climber, and everyone made fun of me for it for years, even though it was him who kissed me. I felt totally ashamed about it for years. Now I’m 18 and I’ve realized that A) it truly was not my fault what happened. B) there’s nothing shameful about kissing a boy if you both consent. C) if anyone should be ashamed, it’s him, for not only kissing me without consent but then making out like it was my idea. People need to know just how early this kind of behaviour can start, and how devastating it can be. For the record, he’s still the only guy I’ve ever kissed, cuz I’ve always been too scared to after. -- Ellie in London, Ontario
I never liked going to school, not because I didn't like studying but because of all the bullying I had to put up with. It wasn't so bad in elementary grades, but got worse when I got to high school. I was always getting harassed by other girls about how I wore my school uniform. It was always the same group of girls preying on weaker ones. They were always making fun about wearing my skirt below my knees, not using make up and not dating boys. The bullying was clearly sexual and that's how got nicknamed "the virgin" I remember feeling mad because teachers knew what was going on and did nothing about it. They just viewed it as normal teenage behaviour and it was easier to turn a blind eye rather than dealing with it. What made it worse was knowing that their victims would never dare report them. I remember this girl asking me in the school yard if I was saving it for a blue prince, while flicking up my skirt to embarrass me in front of other students. I never told anyone that a few days later they sexually assaulted me in the school's stairway. I remember getting my panties pulled down and I was bent over the hand rail just for the fun of exposing my crotch in front of laughing boys. I felt so humiliated I just walked away and did nothing about it. I remember feeling so embarrassed I didn't even tell my parents. I thought of dropping out of school, but what excuse could I come up with to tell my parents. I was basically stuck between not daring to tell my parents, forced to go to school every day where everyone knew what happened and being called a slut. I convinced myself that I wasn't the only girl that had been sexually bullied in school and it was just a bad experience. What I never stop thinking is why nothing is been done about something that happens in so many schools.
I went to a party and kissed a boy. He never mentioned he had just broken up with his girlfriend.3/2/2021
I went to a party and kissed a boy. He never mentioned he had just broken up with his girlfriend. Two days later I go to town with him and my friends. His ex turns up with her friend, telling me how I’m such a slut because he kissed me and they attack me by punching me and throwing a drink at me in the middle of the street. I find it very unfair that I got attacked by some girl I never met. Now I wonder why I even liked the guy, and it makes me feel so low about myself that people want to hurt me because I’m a "slut."
I relate to you so much! When I was in 6th grade I was labeled the school “slut”. I was labeled this because I liked a boy who was in 8th grade and we started texting and I didn’t know know any better. I sent him nudes. I didn’t know he would show everyone. A month after that we stopped talking and people started laughing at me while I’d walk by or whenever I’d enter the cafeteria. All my girlfriends stopped talking to me. I was alone. People would yell things in the halls and classrooms. Thank you so much for making this project because now I know I’m not alone. -- Angie in Boston, MA
My estranged husband, who I have been running family business with, has started an intense campaign of slut shaming at our work place telling employees, friends and relatives, even my teenage and adult children we work with about my sexual activities and is specifically telling people that he left me because I "cheated on him and I continue to sleep with other men". He repeatedly threatens me with "telling" my relatives and parents about my sexual activities he assumes or imagines I have, or past intimacy-related issues. He is entirely focused not only on ruining my reputation but also isolating me and demeaning my value professionally. He barges into my office, demands that I give him my complete sexual fidelity, and if I don't respond favorably, he becomes threatening, belligerent and verbally and emotionally abusive. I feel entrapped in the situation as it is a smaller company, no Human Resources, and the corporate lawyer is of no help as my estranged husband is the president of the company and in full control of all company issues. - Irina in Mission Viejo, California
Whenever anyone innocently asks, “When was your first kiss?” I make up a story or deflect and change the subject. I will forever remember my first kiss as being non-consensual, humiliating, and traumatizing. It was an experience that shaped how I would view men and relationships for a long time. I didn't realize what had happened until I graduated high school. I thought it was normal and that it didn't count because I wasn’t raped, no one who watched protested it, he was a friend, and I was wearing a Halloween costume with heels. I was only 14 and it was my first Halloween party at a friend's house. Unknown to me, she invited my recent ex-boyfriend who I had broken up with after he cheated on me because I would not be intimate with him in any way. The night was over and I went into her room to change into comfortable clothes. While changing, he banged on the door commanding it be opened so he can see me while I changed. I locked myself in the closet as my girlfriends held the door closed. He backed off after being unsuccessful and I proceeded to lay on her bed and relax since I was sleeping over. Some people who hadn't left came in, some were older and smoking or drinking. We all just sat around talking and relaxing. My ex came in and decided to sit on the bed next to me. I gave a concerned look at my friend as I moved to the opposite side of the bed and backed myself into the corner against the wall, getting as far away as I could. He moved closer and closer despite me telling him to stay away. He then started touching me and asking for me to kiss him. I denied him verbally and physically pushed him away. He became very aggressive and threw himself on top of me before I could get up and walk out. He pinned me down and started kissing me while ripping my jacket off and touching me all over. I quickly fought him off and got up to leave, but to my surprise some people in the room were just staring and others continued on in their conversations as if nothing happened. I glanced at my friend who was smiling while some even giggled at the incident. I then doubted myself and questioned whether or not this was okay after all. I ended up staying and just moving far away from him. Once again he aggressively pinned me down and did the same thing, successfully tearing my jacket buttons open and grabbing my breasts. I fought harder and ran out angry without my bag or shoes, frantically calling my mom to come pick me up. Of course I did not tell her the truth and just made up a reason for cancelling the sleep over. My friend ran outside after me begging me not to leave. He came after her, I don't remember what he said, only that I instinctively slapped him across the face and then stormed off into the street as I waited for my mom. After getting picked up, that night was never spoken of again with my friend or anyone else. It wasn't rape or a violent assault as I know many girls and women experience. It did however shape my view on what sexuality and intimacy looks like, which led to many relational complications later on in life. It also caused me to mistrust other women as I did not feel they would believe me, stand up for me, or have my back.
When I was 14 years old, a boy I trusted and cared for took advantage of me. We had drinks, then he brought me to his room, before getting touchy with me. He raped me. But because of the fact I was wearing shorts for pyjamas and had drinks with him, people blame me. Because I was able to walk to my best friend's house the next morning, what he did to me wasn't "bad". Because he was "creepy" and "weird", I should've known better. Everyone finds themselves able to blame me before they can even find themselves condemning him. That night, I feel like I lost a part of myself. I isolated myself and some friends dropped me because I was too depressed after what happened. But him? Even after I reported him to school, he's still top of the class, he's still dating girls, he's even assaulted some from what I've heard. He's friends with my ex-friends who know what he did to me. To this day I'm too scared to even speak about what happened because people might not believe me. People have so many misconceptions about rape, about what it's like, that the fact I didn't become pregnant, or that I didn't scream or fight back makes people think I wanted it. No. I said no, I told him no several times and he still forcefully penetrated me. The fact that I dissociated doesn't devalue what he did to me. It sickens me that the only people I can "breathe" around, who believe me and condemn him, are rape victims themselves. If all the stigma about rape and victim-blaming and rape culture was erased from our society, maybe others like me wouldn't go through what I did all those years ago. So god bless this project, society needs this more than it'll ever know.
I remember everything perfectly. It was the beginning of my 6th grade school year. I was getting used to everything, and had moved far away from all my friends - we lost touch easily. At first, it was my classmates in Math. It was a whole group. I remember some names: Dominique, Serenity, Trey, and that's it. I got called skank, whore, slut, but then... he called me fat. I don't know why this one hit me so hard. It may have been from being so self-conscious of my weight. But from that moment on, I began my horrible path down the bulimic road. It's painful, and nobody should have to go through it. My second experience was in 7th grade, I was obsessed with the cello. And when I was practicing in the music room, Dominique walked in. He said he needed to talk to me. I probably looked like a demon, waiting to tear his throat out. At first, I was comfortable, a bit uneasy, but fine really. He said he was sorry for all the shit he did to me, and wanted to be friends. I accepted, because I needed that. I WANTED that. But later on, he attempted to sexually assault me. My parents were very quiet about sex and condoms, and what I should do - or how I would know. I knew a few things, but I hadn't been properly educated. He once pushed me into a stall and put his hands up my shirt and down my pants. From this point on, I was ashamed of myself. I BLAMED myself. I started cutting with my mom's sewing scissors or something - but they were very sharp. I told myself I deserved this and became very depressed. What truly helped me was Carson. (It's a girl.) She became my friend when no one else would be. She supported me, and comforted me. I love her so much :) And I got over my depression and bulimia. Please don't let anyone get you down, you're perfect and amazing in every way.
Hi, my name is Katherine, I am 15 and from Canada. I’d like to start by thanking you, Miss Lindin, for everything you are doing for us and for creating this ‘community’ for girls and sometimes even boys, like us, where we can share and understand each other’s experiences and learn for them, and to finally be able to speak about it. Before reading The UnSlut Project I had never really given a thought to the concept of slut shaming. I don’t think I had ever heard of it either. It made me think twice about what I said to others, especially girls, who are most affected by this. As our body changes we sometimes feel vulnerable or powerless towards what happens to us, and a lot of times our confidences decreases immensely and self-consciousness takes over our lives. I had never been a target for bullies. If you would’ve told me last year that I would get bullied I would not have believed you. I had the reputation of a person not to be messed with, but not in a bad way. I just did not let people screw with me or my life and I wasn’t shy to tell you if you did something wrong or if I disagreed with you and if you stepped over the line you would earn a very polite version of go to hell, I do not need people like you in my life. I was very proud of that reputation. Last February, I had my first boyfriend ever. I had never been kissed and the most intimate thing I had ever done with a boy was hold hands… in kindergarten. I did have a couple of friends that were boys though and they were a funny bunch. Back to the point, I had my first boyfriend, and he was wonderful. Very romantic and funny and kind. I think I really did love him. The only thing I did not like was that he smoked pot. Don’t get me wrong I’m not against it; it’s just that I’d rather he did not smoke. The first weeks were wonderful. We shared half of our second semester classes, which is how we met, so we spent almost all day together. Now fast forward to the middle of March. I was leaving on a trip to Scotland and then England, which I had signed up for the year before with a few of my friends. 40 students were selected to go, accompanied by 5 teachers and we were to leave 2 days before March break and come back 2 days before school started again. The trip was to last 9 days. Before I left, I went to say goodbye to my boyfriend, let’s call him Alex, and left for the airport. He promised me he would Skype with me every night and every morning, which he did. The trip was wonderful, it had been my dream to go since I loved and still love English history. But although I was living my dream all I could think about was my boyfriend at home, whom I missed a whole lot. Boy, was I happy to come home. I saw him at school that Monday and I couldn’t have been happier. Only that happiness did not last. The next day I learned that the day before I came back he had slept with some other girl, whom everyone considered the school whore. Honestly, I had talked to her a few times and she was really nice. Only she was very open about what she liked in bed, but who cares. Anyways I learned from my friends, who had been told by the girl in question that I had been cheated on. I was heartbroken and I felt sick. Alex wasn’t saying anything and I couldn’t believe it. I felt like my whole world came crashing down on me faster than I could get cover. The next day, I heard tons of people whispering about what happened and some people even came to me and told me to not worry because ‘they were on my side’. What did that mean? There were sides? The whole situation went out of control and very soon the girl Alex had slept with started getting bullied. ‘Slut’. ‘Whore’. ‘Bitch’. You name it they were all thrown her way. People made it their duty to hate on her in revenge for what had been done to me. I did not like it and honestly, she had and still has the right to do whatever the hell she wants with her body and even if she went and f**cked with a thousand men that wouldn’t have been anybody’s goddamn business. After about a week, of which that girl was absent for half because of the situation, she changed schools because the bullies were too much. Now she is happy and she has a girlfriend and they’re really cute together. I haven’t had the guts to talk to her and apologize for what happened, but that doesn’t matter now. She is happy. The bullying might have stopped there for her, but it only started for me. I tried to remain friends with my ex; that’s what we were before dating and it was good. At the end of March I met my current boyfriend and we started dating at the end of April. Alex got a girlfriend too. Everything was fine and we still talked until the end of school. One teacher asked me on the last day if I knew how to reach him so he could come by and do some make-up project so he wouldn’t fail his English class. When I texted him he started calling me a dumb bitch and annoying and other things which kinda hurt. He’d never really talked to me that way before. My boyfriend, Ben, saw that I was upset about it and asked Alex why he did this. That’s when Alex started saying I was a whore and a slut and a bunch of other mean things. He threatened to beat us up, me and Ben, if he ever saw us in town. The whole summer went by with no word of them which we were really happy about. Until school started this September. The first incident was when Alex’s girlfriend, Mary, tried to push him into me in the hall. I didn’t think much of it; it was just some stupid thing. Then on the second day as they walked past my locker I heard them say: ‘Oh, look! There’s the ugly fat bitch.’ For the rest of the week every time I happened to cross them in the hall, which is very easy because our school is shaped like a square, the called out insults at me. ‘Bitch’. ‘Fat f**k’. ‘Whore’. The next week I got an appointment with the principal. She told me she would talk about it with the educators, but they didn’t do anything. I told my parents and they said it was really not okay. That same night Alex texted me I was a ‘F**king bitch go check yourself at the veterinary’ or something like that. My parents then texted him and told him they would press charges. I don’t where you’re from, but here that kind of bullying is considered harassment and it is NOT okay! To this day they haven’t dared to talk to me. I know that probably some of you have gone through worse, but what happened to me still hurt. I just want to say that I love every one of you who wrote their story on here and have given me the courage to share mine. Thank you. Stay golden, my friends. - Katherine Roy
On December 26, 2014, I met this guy who I reconnected with from grade 8 and we had feelings for each other back then and gained them back. We kissed for the first time and it was like magic, like any first kiss would be like.. Over a month later, I noticed some changes in his personality. He started getting really controlling... when I wasn't with him he would text me 24/7 and ask where I was. If I didn't answer, he lost control and got really angry. Did I mention he had anger issues? Him: "Where are you? Who are you with? Why are you out? How did you get there? Why aren't you texting me back?" Like, I got that he was protecting me, but OVER protecting in a bad way. Weeks passed and he was at my house for a bit longer than normal... that's when he raped me and he got to the point where he was verbal abusing me. I was scared to continue this relationship, yet I was so attached to him and his charms. Later on in February of this year, I attempted to commit suicide because I felt there was nothing here for me anymore and nothing good was happening. I was broken and hurting inside and out. My parents found me and took me to ER. I spent the weekend there. Blood work, gross food, and sleeping all day... I loved that part. Weeks passed and I finally came out to my family, telling them what I was hiding: I was pregnant and had lost the child. I was afraid to get close to a guy again. I stopped dating and focused on ME. Months passed and it was April. I was doing better. Self-harm free for weeks and I was starting to slightly smile again. I met someone online that changed my life. We shared stories with each other and gained feelings. She was understanding. YES, SHE! We started dating on April 24th. We made each other happy as can be. She made me feel better as a person and that I am no longer attached to men, period... end of story. We are currently still together as of today, September 16, 2015. We are both in different countries, but we have made this long distance relationship work! I am so happy, I can be who I want and my family accepts me for who I am... no more hiding.
It started my first year of middle school. I dressed differently than others and I had different interests. People branded me as "emo" and "goth". After that started, people would make fun of me, ask to see my cuts (I wasn't even cutting), told me I was a psycho. It was annoying and aggravating. I was sent to the counselor to 'talk about my problems' because people would say I was suicidal. If it wasn't the counselor it was the principal. I got called to the office once because someone said they saw me with a blade (I didn't have one) and my principal didn't believe me. He let me go though, saying if I got caught with one it'd be considered a weapon. Things lasted all year, then I got a boyfriend. Things dialed down a little bit after that. He later told me he only got with me to see if he could change that way I was, he failed to do so and broke up with me. That summer my parents found a page I had made on suicide and self harm. That was a long talk, then they saw it on my wrist. I said it was the dog and they believed me. Told me that they could send me to a hospital to get help. I didn't wanna go, I answered no to all of their questions. The next year, I started losing everyone. My best friend had a new group of best friends, I felt secluded from my volleyball team (I play a lot of sports at school), my parents started living separately again, I felt alone. I've never been good at telling people my feelings. So, I didn't like to tell my parents what was going on. That same year I would still get called the labels, but they just kept seeming to add up. They'd call me a slut, whore, bitch, asshole, basically every name you can think of. People would carve mean things in the bathroom stalls like "[my name] is a emo fag that should die," "[my name] is a asshole," "[my name] should just kill herself." I would hate it so much. I didn't know what to do, so I reported it cause it was so much, they told my parents. It seemed to never end. After that people would pass rumors about me and guys at school would try to touch me. I gave up on reporting any of it cause it didn't stop anyone. It was here, in middle school when I started self harm and planned an attempt. I felt so lost with no idea what to do. School staff didn't do much, I was always in the counselor office cause people kept saying I was crazy and suicidal. They never found out about my scars or cuts, I hid them or lied. My new friend talked me out of all my bad thoughts. This year I'm in eighth grade. Nothing has changed. I still have the labels and names, and school just barely started a month ago. They never got my name off the bathroom door. I still do what I do even though I shouldn't. I keep everything hidden, I'm my own secret. People need to know, their words can hurt someone. Maybe they don't realize it, but they do. Not everyone survives, not everyone finds a cure. Do not let people label you, you are not defined by what people think you are. 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. Please visit Door of Hope 4 Teens and check out the resources available to you. I am always here to talk, as well. Love, Emily
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