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I was never called a slut or anything like that until I was in 6th grade. It all started when the boy I liked asked me out. At recess we would hang out with his friends and my friends. His friends wanted us to break up. They would say mean things to me like "You're such a slut", or "hey bitch", or "go f!ck yourself". Once one of his friends kicked me. My boyfriend would tell them to stop and try and punch them or something, and they would stop temporarily, but would just end up doing it again. My boyfriend stopped hanging out with one of his friends, I appreciated that, as that "friend" was the one who did most of the mean name calling. One day in class I was in a group with a guy I didn't like very much, but was fun to talk to. So when he said "move, girl", I said "move, boy", and he said "move, hot girl" and then started to look at my butt. I told him to stop but he didn't. He then tried to touch my butt, I slapped him on the hand but then he tried again. I again slapped him. When I wasn't looking or paying attention he succeeded in touching my butt. He eventually stopped. I didn't tell my teacher because it was embarrassing. I could barely tell my friends or my boyfriend. They all said it wasn't my fault, but for as some reason I felt bad. I plan on someday telling my parents but not before I enter 7th grade which will be this year. I don't know why I'm scared, I just am. I'm sorry if I wasted your time I just needed to get it out. Slut shaming and bullying is horrible. Don't do it, just be yourself.
When I was younger I felt like the only reason I ever got anybody's attention was because I was "active", (Obviously that's what was happening). No matter how promiscuous someone is, no means no. One night during freshman year my best friend and I had gotten drunk and walked to the high school to watch another friend of ours play volleyball. My phone had been vibrating off the hook with texts from my mom who was pissed I wasn't at home babysitting like I was supposed to be. Eventually I turned to my best friend and told her I needed to go home before I got in huge trouble, and since she wanted to stay and watch, I started to walk home. A little down the street I got a text from this guy I had been crushing on for YEARS. He said he was driving by and asked if I needed a ride home. I said yes. Mostly for my sake, I try not to remember how that night went down, and I ALWAYS remind myself how stupid it was to invite him over. But I honestly did just want to hang out with him. He was a popular guy, and I thought maybe if I could hang with him, I could hang with the others. Except he had other plans. And I spent the next week in the counsellors office, missing all my classes and talking to a certain police officer (I never got to thank him, I certainly would have). But I didn't want to have sex with him, and even though I can't remember everything that happened, I do remember saying no. And I do remember trying to push him off me. And it shouldn't matter that I invited him into my home, because I said no. A few weeks later I found out I was not the only girl it had happened to, and because I came out and told, so did a few others. About the same time as his trial (he was found guilty on all counts) a friend of his messaged me and told me that I was just an ugly slut who got mad when he didn't want anything more than sex. My inbox was bombarded with messages from his friends calling me all sorts of things. So when I showed the police officer, he told me to ignore it, because I knew it wasn't true, and they knew it wasn't true but were in denial. But I still carved 'ugly' into my thigh because that's the only part that stuck with me. And every couple of months I still go over it with a razor because it feels right. Though it's been almost 6 years, I see him around town and I'm instantly taken back to that 13 year old year and I can't help but feel helpless and weak.
When I was 13 I moved from Massachusetts to New Hampshire and for some reason it was made very clear from day one that I was unwelcome by everyone, especially the girls. Suddenly boys started noticing me and they would ask me out, which had never happened before because I was always known as the "bookworm" and for some reason the term "freak" started circulating the school. I was fighting off girls everyday for no reason and one got pissed when I won the fight and said, "It doesn't matter, everyone knows you are a stupid slut anyway." I never understood why she said that because at that point I had never even been kissed by a boy and she didn't know me anyway. That is when the boys started asking me out and I didn't put two and two together until later. It started getting to the point where I was having to fight off being groped in the hallway and three girls at once (because I had no trouble with two, thanks to my father teaching me how to fight, but that is also when I got myself into martial arts). It got so bad with the slut remarks that I went to my counselor and told her I was very depressed and couldn't take much more. Unbeknownst to me right across the way was another school, but it looked like a house, and it was a boys' school but it did have one other girl in it, and I guess it was supposed to be for the kids who had trouble in school for one reason or another. The other girl and I became best friends on day 1 and still are to this day. Unfortunately we had a few friends die for different reasons and one of them was a suicide. The person who had killed himself actually lived with me for a little while and my parents to help him out, because him and his parents were not getting along. They were like my dad and considered the school a failure and both referred to it as a school for "sweat hogs". A few days after he killed himself and after the funeral a bunch of us got together at his parents house and had a party in his honor. Let's just say his dad didn't care we were underage and we did drink and smoke at the time. There was a boy there I didn't know very well but I always had a crush on, but he was with one of the girls who had bullied me beyond belief when I was at my regular high school. He motioned for me to sit on his lap and before I did I asked him, "What about Ellen?" and he had told me they had broken up and I told him thank goodness and did sit on his lap. That night we all told stories about our friend and try to remember the good times and the whole time he was stroking my hair and a few times when tears came to my eyes he wiped them away so gently and I guess I just got swept up in it all. I hadn't even thought about a ride home and because I had been drinking and smoking I did not want to call my parents and he offered me a ride home. To be honest I wasn't really ready to go home, especially when he offered for us to sit and talk at this very romantic spot that everyone went to when they wanted to chat or do other things. We talked for a little while and he was holding my hand and stroking my face and I guess I got caught up in the attention because things were not great at my home, and anyway we made love in the car. I thought it was special and I waited for him to call me but I knew there would be another party celebrating our friend the next day at his girlfriend's house and I knew he would be there. We were all having fun, there was loud music and we were drinking... again... and I remember looking for him all night waiting for him to show up. All of a sudden the room went quiet because someone had turned off the music. I turned my head like everyone else did to see why and it was Ellen! I just remember my heart sinking because she was the one who had started the "slut" rumor and she had tried to fight me and when she lost she would bring another girl with her and then another girl until I couldn't fight so many. She would trap me in the ladies room and call me a whore when I was at the other high school, amongst other things, and to be honest I only had a few friends at this party and the rest of them I did not know and there must have been at least 50 people there. Suddenly my eyes caught the boy I was with the other night standing on the stairs, but he was looking down at the ground. Then she started talking to me so everyone's heads whipped around and were staring at me. I will never forget what she said to this day. I should probably mention that I made the mistake of telling my best friend's friend what had happened with him and I just had a feeling it was a bad idea. It turns out she was Ellen's best friend. Ellen began with, "I heard you are telling everyone that you fucked my boyfriend." Believe me that is not how I worded it to the girl and my best friend, who had been there, since it was her house, since if you have been paying attention there was a reason why it was very special to me. She continued on with the words, "Why on earth would he waste his time with an ugly, disgusting, repulsive, scumbag tramp and slut like you when he has someone like me?" I remember turning to look over at him my eyes pleading for something to come out of his mouth in my defense, and he was still looking at the floor. My best friend was somewhere else in the house or I know she would have said something, so I was pretty much on my own with all these people staring at me and I felt like I had been used, and with everything she had called me I felt like nothing and a fool. Then my eyes caught the girl who I had told and she had a smirk on her face. I couldn't take it because I was so humiliated in front of so many people. I ran up the stairs into the main level of the house and found the master bathroom. I looked through the cabinet for any kind of pills I could take because I knew this girl's mother was on things and I found a bottle of something that said "Take one each night for sleep." From my estimate the bottle was almost full. I took the bottle and put it in my pocket and went into the kitchen and drank as many beers as I could fit into my stomach as fast as I could. I went looking for my best friend but I could not find her. I then began looking through the kitchen drawers for a sharp knife and I saw the kitchen block and grabbed a big knife from there. I went back into the master bathroom and with the beer that was in my hand I took the bottle of pills and began running the cold water in the sink and a slit both my wrists. I then went through the other door that went straight into the girl who owned the house's parents' bedroom and I crawled under their bed. Darkness came pretty quickly and I do remember thinking, thank goodness this will all be over. When I came to in the hospital the doctor told me he had no idea how I had survived. I guess my friend went looking for me and found one of my feet sticking out from under the bed. When she told someone they all panicked and I guess instead of calling 911 they threw me into the back of someone's truck and dumped me on my parents' lawn and took off. They would not let my friend call 911 so she went into the back of the truck and when they dumped me on the lawn she jumped out and began punching and kicking my parents' door and pointed to me on the lawn. I guess the only thing that really saved me was that I didn't manage to cut into my wrists deep enough, so they bled very slowly, but the doctors still said they did not understand how I lived between the pills and the alcohol and my wrists, because they drove right past the hospital to dump me on my parents' lawn. The doctor told me I must have had a guardian angel and at the time I remember laughing and thinking that if I had I would have died. I was in the hospital for a long time between healing and the psychiatric part of it but to this day it still hurts. No one said anything when I went back to my new school but the people who were there, there was only a few of them at the party and those were the ones that were my friends. I just remember to this day the names she called me and all the things she did to me and more than anything that when I looked over to plead with him to help me, he couldn't even look at me or anyone else in the eye. I am sharing this because I regret not being stronger to this day and I don't want this to ever happen to anyone else. I also hope if anything like this does happen to someone else that they don't make the same mistake I did and they do what I should have done and stand up for themselves right when it all starts like I tried to do when I was at the regular high school. When it became too much I feel a little bit like I ran away from the problem when I switched schools but that did help me because there was only 38 of us in the school and none of them treated me like that. I let them call me names and I let it circulate that I was a slut when I wasn't and now, I would have found a way to be a smart ass and own it even if it wasn't true, just to make them shocked and have to figure out something else to call me or leave me alone. I can't say for sure that would have worked or if anything would have worked, and I can't say I don't feel like I ran away when I changed schools but I can say I gave her too much power by doing what I did that night and I bet to this day she doesn't even remember any of it or even me, but I can say I remember her name and I will never forget it. I let the word "slut" make me do one of the most stupid things in my life and I let that simple little word wreck me for a long time. All it is is a word and even if it had been true I should have never let it have the power that it did and neither should anyone else. Thank you for listening to anyone who has read this to the end. - Calissta
I was in sixth grade when I first questioned my sexuality. I wasn't exactly in a safe place to do so, though, because I live in the Bible Belt, which means that I see a lot of "Pray the Gay away" and "Marriage=wife+husband" stickers on cars. So my friend also questioned if she was straight or not, and we constantly looked up different terms and sexualities that could apply to us, and soon found out that we were bisexual. Over time, I developed the biggest crush on her, and nearly a day after I told her about my feelings, she said that she thought she was straight. Of course I was a little heartbroken - who wouldn't be?! - but I knew that I had to accept her like she accepted me. And I thought she was my friend, honestly, I mean, she wouldn't tell anyone, right? Wrong. The next year (I told her in May), the beginning of seventh grade, I came back to people chanting "BISLUT!" at me in the hallway and "WHORE" and "SELFISH BISEXUAL" written on anonymous notes, which annually appeared in my locker. I had nearly no friends. All of them were either afraid of me falling in love with them or they didn't want to be around the "whore" or "slut". Over time, I thought I'd get used to it… but I didn't. The name calling went on and on and it never was normal. So I picked up a blade. I would cut nearly everyday, and try my best to hide it from the people who didn't want me doing it. I didn't tell anyone. Months passed, and I fell into depression worse than ever. My mother gave me my pills every single day, and carefully watched me. But I felt like living wasn't worth it. And then, I swallowed fifteen sleeping pills. I would've died right then if my mother hadn't walked in on me to give me my antidepressant, and worried, she took to me to the hospital. Okay, so if you have a failed suicide attempt and you're taken to the hospital because you have a very small chance of living, you probably will end up in a psych ward, which is what happened to me. I was in there for two weeks, and I made amazing friends. I dealt with my sexuality, and I learned that just because I'm attracted to both doesn't mean I'm a "slut". (No one is.) Now, let me say this. Mental hospitals really aren't that scary. They're very plain and dull but not scary. The nurses aren't mean and the patients aren't going to murder you in your sleep. You're safe there. Trust me. I met a really nice lesbian who was in there because of her grandparents' emotional abuse towards her, which led her to self-harm. I met a girl who suffered from a bipolar disorder who also was bisexual. Over all, there was just a lot of amazing people. And the next year when I went to a different school, I was welcomed for my sexuality, and even had a girlfriend, which was my first openly gay relationship. What I'm trying to say is be yourself. There's no one more beautiful. - Sarah
Let me start by divulging my age. I am 60 soon to be 61. I saw your story on The Doctors and it struck a chord. I suffered from the damages of the "slut" label while growing up in a southern California resort town, with little supervision, really no supervision. I was pinned down on the beach and groped by boys multiple times; I was 12. My crime was developing too fast, and my other crime was befriending a severely psychologically damaged, obviously sexually abused 12 yr old girl who was gang raped by older boys or as it was called pull the train. I was actually on a boat with her and my 12 yr old boyfriend when it happened. I panicked and one of the older boys took the two of us back to shore but left my friend behind. I have know idea how many times this scenario played out but it was many. What a sad creature with the dead look in her eyes. It was rumored she committed suicide. This event as well as the sexual abuse inflicted upon me by my father from age 6 to 9 shaped my self image and my behavior. I've never really recovered and have had many disastrous relationships but now at this age I am finally free, I don't need sex, I don't want sex, I'm free to never tolerate abusive behaviors that I used to tolerate because I was searching for love in all the wrong places. Now after raising five children and just starting grad school in marriage and family counseling, I'm not only taking control of my own life but reaching out in the hopes of making a difference in women's lives who have been there and are struggling to get back into life again. Being labeled a slut in middle school when girls are at their most vulnerable is a devastating thing to happen, even more so in today's digital world. I hope my story puts a different perspective on the topic. This is not a new phenomenon. - Allison Greer
I was slut shamed when I was 13-15 years old. I am now 35. I overcame it. When I was 13, I wanted to be liked because I didn't get the attention from my parents that I needed. A boy acted like he liked me and talked me into meeting him. When I meet him he had his best friend there and talked me into sleeping with both of them. After that the entire group slut shamed me. I was never the same. I became very depressed and lost many friends. Eventually I became very promiscuous, trying to prove to myself that I wasn't a slut but that I could be sexual and it wasn't a bad thing. I love what you are doing! I have 3 daughters and I don't want what happened to me to happen to them. - Regina
I am no stranger to the word "slut". People have called me it before when the word never bothered me, not knowing what it meant. My sister has called me a slut before and causally blames "sluts" for everyday problems. But the reason why I am writing this isn't about me, but about people making "silly" jokes about this term. In 7th grade I had already been dealing with problems of my own, making me shy, henceforth nobody listening to me. Which I thought was fine in the beginning. It was only whispers from the guys across the room so I thought it would blow over. Boy was I wrong! Only a little time passed before this boy (who shall remain nameless) decided to push me over the fence, and into the water below when he told a good friend of mine as he pointed to a girl wearing a skirt, "If she wears a short skirt, she is asking for it!" That sentence will forever be in my memory as the day I started to take it all seriously. I tried to speak up from that day on about everything that happened, but as always I am the the shy one, the one nobody listens to so I am never heard at all. There was one thing I could have done and I suggest to anyone reading this, tell an adult and make sure they are aware of everything going on. Once I told my teacher the kids who made the jokes got in trouble and I was moved from the boy that made the comment's class. I am now making friends and I am feeling better about who I am. - Raven
It started freshman year of high school. I was fourteen at the time and like most fourteen year olds I was a little bit naive. So when a boy in my class started talking to me and wanted to hang out and maybe fool around a little bit, I thought it seemed like a great idea. In my mind fooling around meant kissing and maybe him going under my shirt. To him it meant something completely different. He also persuaded me to send him nude pictures. We ended up hanging out and it escalated quickly. He told me I should give him oral sex (he didn't call it that), and when I said "no, I've never done that before and I'm not ready to do that" he thought what he wanted was more important than what I wanted. He guided me to the ground (as I was saying no), put me on my knees and pushed my head on to his penis and held it there. I couldn't breathe. I started to cry, he told me I was horrible at it. Then he pushed me against the wall as he fingered me while I cried and said no. It was incredibly painful. A few days later people at my small high school found out we had "hooked up". Overnight I had become the school slut. People were coming up to me in the hallways, freshman through seniors alike, saying how much of a slut I was, or that they heard I had done this, that, and the other thing, and if I could do it for them too. Horrible rumors were spread about me. It wasn't just at school either---it continued online even after the school day was over. Before I knew it kids from other local schools were saying things as well. Guys would start talking to me and I thought they liked me...after a few friendly texts back and forth, they stopped trying and flat out said "so are you gonna send me a picture of your tits now or what?" This happened over and over again. It deflated my self esteem----and fourteen year old girls typically don't have the highest self esteem to begin with. I doubted my own self worth. I blamed myself constantly for what happened. How could I not when every single day I received comment after comment about how much of a slut I was and how no one will ever want me. The only reason guys talked to me was to get pictures. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore and didn't have the energy to fight back or to try to prove any of them wrong. They believed what they wanted to believe anyway, so I didn't see how I could change that. Why would they want to believe what actually happened when the story they heard was way more interesting and scandalous. I started sending guys pictures whenever they asked.
I didn't really hook up with another guy until two years later. I was extremely uncomfortable and didn't have enough self confidence to say no to things that I didn't want to happen. The first guy didn't listen so why would this guy? I wasn't into what we were doing. I wasn't even mentally in the room. My mind was somewhere else. It was an out of body experience. I was watching him hold my head forward as he put his penis in my mouth, and as he fingered me while he had his hand tightly around my throat. The the next time I hung out with a guy, at 16, I thought we were friends. I didn't think he was ONLY after me for sexual things. But once again I was proved wrong. We had texted about some things we wanted to do to each other, but we had also texted a lot about non sexual things. So when we hung out he expected we were going to do what we talked about, and when I said I realized I wasn't comfortable with it and I really did not want to do it, he told me "sluts can't change their minds." He pushed me on the bed, took his pants off and took my clothes off. I kept saying no and trying to change the subject. He put a condom on, told me I would like it. I protested a few more times, started crying and then just laid there like a dead fish staring blankly at the ceiling while he went inside me. I didn't move my body at all. This frustrated him and he put his hand under me and started to move my body into his. He finished and threw my clothes at me. I left as quickly as I could. A year or so later I met a guy and we started dating. It was a real relationship. A month or two in I told him a little about my past and he still wanted to be with me. Eventually I told him everything, and that was the first time I STARTED to see that it wasn't my fault what happened to me. I still was not ready to face it all though. Things were great with him. We fell in love and were in a relationship for three years, mutually ending things when we realized we were on two completely different paths. But there was a major problem in our relationship, although we both tried our best to pretend it wasn't there and that we could overcome it: anything related to sex. Sometimes I was completely okay with things and 100 percent into it. Other times I wasn't but I never said no. I didn't know how to say no. I didn't think I deserved to say no. So it became a constant fight because he could tell when I wasn't into it. He told me I needed to say no if I didn't want to do something. So I started to...and I felt empowered for the first time. So I started saying no more than I was saying yes. At the time I didn't really understand why I was doing that...but upon further self reflection and maturity...I now know that I was so deeply uncomfortable and squeamish about anything related to sex, that it was easier for me to avoid it altogether. I didn't want to pretend that I was enjoying something and I was tired of feeling uncomfortable. It was extremely frustrating for me to be turned on and to want to enjoy being intimate with my boyfriend, but somehow I always ended up going back to being fourteen and being the school slut. Certain things were better than others, and I preferred to do things to him rather than risk having him do something to me and losing any sense of control. It wasn't until shortly before our break up this past year that I started to understand and was emotionally ready to reflect on what happened to me. I realized that I was sexually assaulted, that it was not my fault, and that even though I didn't physically fight them off of me and after a while I stopped saying "no", I never said or SHOWED any signs of saying yes. Crying, turning away, passively lying there, not kissing them back, not looking at them, not helping in any way.....those all say no. They had no right to do the things they did to me. The things they did and the backlash I received all four years of high school and occasionally still today--- it all deeply affected me and my life. I still feel shame talking about or doing anything related to sex. I'm still afraid thats the only reason a guy is talking to me. I'm scared to show that I'm interested in something sexual because I don't want people to think I'm a "slut". My reputation was destroyed because of things I did not even want to happen. I have recently started working through this with a counselor and it has helped immensely. But I'm still constantly afraid I'm going to be uncomfortable in sexual situations for the rest of my life. I am just starting to talk to guys again after my break up, I spent the past 5 months focusing completely on myself and finally confronting the trauma I experienced. And as far as I have come in the past 5 months, I know I still have a great deal of work to do to get to the point where this is truly a part of my past and not a part of my everyday thoughts. To those boys who took my innocence and made my first sexual encounters deeply traumatizing and to the hundreds of people who made comments about how much of a dirty slut I was; I want you to know I forgive you. Even though you probably have no idea what you did wrong (gotta love rape culture), I forgive you. And I want you to know that you didn't BREAK me. You cracked a few pieces of me, but you never broke me. And you never will. I am a million times stronger because of the horrible things you did to me. I am a kind, compassionate, genuine, smart, considerate beautiful person. You can't ever take those things away from me. You never did, and you sure as hell never will. I'm depressed. And that's all I ever was before year 7, I was just a tad bit depressed, self conscious, with low self esteem. But then I got my first boyfriend. And I got another. Then the next year, I got a boyfriend every single month - no exceptions. Then some boys decided to ask if we could go further and sext or actually have sex. I was constantly groped by them, they squeezed my ass or boobs against my consent whenever they had the chance. Now, I'm in year 8. I realised I'm bisexual, have a fear of being alone and I was in love with my girl best friend. And due to my fear of being alone, I'm going through boys at an even quicker rate, flirting constantly, because I'm scared it's the only love I'll ever get. My parents know a brief outline of the sexual harassment that's happened (one of my exes decided to spread around school that he only dated me coz I'm "easy" and that I have "big tits") but they, too, think I'm a slut. Constantly telling me over and over again I'm not good enough and that I shouldn't teach my "tricks" to my younger friends. Then everyone in my entire year knows my bra size, which is 34DD. And just from those simple things, everyone believes all the sexual content surrounding me. Now, I've lost 90% of my friends, and trust only 3 people in my entire school. Now I'm depressed, suicidal, a self harmer, and a 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. 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
Sexual bullying and slut shaming can happen to anyone. During the middle of my college/university experience a little over twenty years ago, I somehow caught the attention of a sorority girl in one of my classes at a small private college. I was still socially awkward at that time, and her rather energetic nature and interest made me a little nervous. I blurted out, "Don't have an orgasm, now!" after a nerve-wracking conversation one day, which I realize now was totally inappropriate. But I was totally unprepared for the onslaught of revenge from her sorority sisters. I was sexually harassed repeatedly by e-mail, telephone, and even in person. This continued even when the campus police got involved. It didn't stop until I left the school. Thankfully, that experience didn't follow me to university, but, I remember walking across the street when a convertible pulled up and a young woman leaned out and said, "Yeah, baby. Shake it!" For some reason, that triggered memories of being mercilessly teased in middle school by boys that thought I wiggled my buttocks too much when I walked. Even though I doubt her comment was homophobic like theirs were, I still felt like an objectified piece of meat. I know that men in our society are encouraged to welcome sexual attention. Yet how can it be welcomed when it's unwanted and degrading? I think most guys know the difference, and no amount of swagger (or retaliatory insult) covers up the hurt. It's not cool, and it's not "studly". It's abusive. A quick thanks to my friends at the No More Shame Project/Trauma Recovery University, who've given me courage to heal from childhood abuse, including sexual abuse. Survivors can be vulnerable to this sort of bullying. Please use my real name; I've come far enough that I don't need to be ashamed anymore. - Jonathan Pratt
Nearly every day of my life, I was a freak. I am/was super tall, I tower over everybody and scare people without meaning to. They say I don't scare them, but then they distance themselves and suddenly I'm alone. That also gained me some enemies, because I used to be used as a shield, someone people could go to if they had a problem with somebody. I dealt with them as nicely as I could, but even then they took everything I said the wrong way. I even angered my used-to-be-best friend, and that's when it started. She had more than half of the whole grade as her groupies, and she spread rumours. They reached my friends, and suddenly they didn't want to be around the clumsy monster. She called me a slut and a few other choice words one day. It's stuck with me ever since. Every time I wear a dress, skirt, tank top, etc. I hear the girl's voice in my head whispering that one word. I wear huge sweaters and jeans, even in the summer, because if I don't I feel like I'm naked, like I have no more armour. Because of that one, small word. My life had been downhill from there, but this year I've noticed I'm climbing back up the slope. I've worn a T-shirt without a sweater for the first time in nearly two years. Small, I know. Laughable, okay. But it's huge for me. Slut shaming needs to stop. It doesn't matter what clothes someone wears, how much makeup they put on, their sexuality, or how many people they sleep with. Because that one little word can ruin a good portion of someone's life.
This year in school, I'm in 8th grade, they've branded a 7th grader with the name "The Thot Of The School". They say nasty and hateful things about her and they've started rumors about her. They've said that she's sent nudes out to boys she had recently just started dating and that she's given someone an oral in public. I know people who WERE her friends, now that they've heard she was the 'thot' or slut of the school, they go along with it and she now has fake friends who talk shit about her. It's bullshit how people decide to do this to people. Even if they don't know if it's true or not, they go along.
This was my life through all of 7th and 8th grades, back in 1982-1984 there was no name for it. I was a slut, a whore and a lesbian all before I had even kissed a boy - forget about the bases. All because I "blossomed" in puberty, far out pacing the other girls in the bra department. Sadly I don't think those other students will ever realize the amount of stupidity they displayed by using what were using opposing/conflicting slurs. She does everyone, she only does it for money, and she only does it with women. OK, morons, why don't you pick ONE and stick with it. To this day I have a very cynical outlook when it comes to people's behavior. Observed or unobserved, online or in person, I am disgusted by the other beings calling themselves "human". I have never been ashamed of my sexuality, even when I did finally find it. - K.H.
In 10th grade four girls all beat me up at the same time because of a boy. Apparently, he liked me because I was nothing but a slut. This torment went on for most of the year with them calling me names. Every time I would wear anything they considered "slutty" they would taunt me to the point that I would go home crying. By the end of the year I was so ashamed of myself and worried about being a slut that I started skipping school and my classwork stopped being important. I was so focused on whether or not other people thought I was a slut that everything else came in second. I have tons of stories about this. I try to write about them honestly on my blog, and I find that I still struggle with this self image. - Rhonda Hartman
The perky girl who loved herself slowly turned into the perky girl who pretended to be happy.10/17/2019
I couldn't wait to start 7th grade, gone were the backstabbing best friend and the horrible things that were said. I no longer wanted to be that quiet, easy to bully girl, so I became perky (without noticing it) and if someone said anything bad about me I would laugh it off. Till one person called me a slut for wearing a skirt. I had NEVER been called a slut so I was completely shocked about this. I had thought that the bullying was done. I couldn't tell anyone because I didn't want to appear weak and needy for help. So this girl continued to call me names "Slut, Bitch, Hoe" and soon I began to believe the words. The perky girl who loved herself slowly turned into the perky girl who pretended to be happy. All because of words that weren't even true. I am naturally skinny but this girl would tell me that I starve myself and that I was ugly. I soon developed anxiety and would stress about going to school. But one day a girl I never met saw the girl calling me a slut and a bitch. And went on a full rampage. Saying stuff like, "The only bitch around here is you." That girl has become one of my best friends and the happy perky girl is back and isn't leaving. - Zoe
Anyone who has a need to call a female who is younger than 18 a slut has problems. I've had my own personal experiences with wrongful slut shaming. The first time was when I was 11, in 5th grade. A girl called me a slut for not having a boyfriend (obviously she needs to go find out what it actually means) and for the next few years I was pressured into thinking not having a boyfriend was bad. In 6th grade, I was deemed a slut by my ex-boyfriend for wearing a pair of shorts that reached mid-thigh. The most recent one, in 8th grade, was cursed at me from a fellow female who was jealous that I could be simple friends with a group of guys and claimed that I was secretly planning on seducing them with witchcraft (someone really needs to lay off those fictional romance novels). I dealt with them with a mixture of telling my mom (sometimes it's awkward telling your dad or your 40 year old male principal) and getting support from my friends, both male and female. I would just like to say that calling someone a slut is always hurtful, no matter your age or the situation it is being used in. If anyone ever feels uncomfortable, say it. Don't keep those thoughts to yourself- otherwise you'll start believing in them. - Myra Sangster
Though I myself have never been called a slut, I have witnessed the pain and developing insecurities of friends that have been called one. In middle school, back then I had a friend that went out with many boys every month. Though no effects appeared right away, she became bitter and lost control over her actions with boys, making it worse. I have one thing to say about girls who have been called a slut - It's just a word that other people say, usually not meaning it, to take you down. They only want to take you down because you're high above them.
The shift from elementary school to middle school can be very traumatic. Girls can be very mean, especially girls in Junior High. I was twelve years old and kind of a loner. I became friends with this girl Lisa who was confident and dressed in fun, flamboyant clothing. We had a blast expressing ourselves though our clothing. We loved Hollywood, bright colors, vintage & leopard print, we also loved feathers and glitter. Neither of us had breasts so there wasn't any cleavage involved. We didn't pay attention to boys because we were too busy having too much fun. We were unique and I guess people didn't like that. The first comments we heard were that we were lesbians. This was in 1973 during a time when people were very closeted. Then another group started spreading a rumor that we were sluts and whores. The truth of the matter is that neither of us had ever even kissed a guy and we had no interest in each other like that. Lisa left that school the next year. We continued to be friends (and still are). I remember feeling very isolated and out of place. I continued at that school for two more years. I was very depressed. I wrote poems, I remember part of one: "they treat me like I'm from Mars but, I'm not! I'm human, I have feelings too." I used to think about ways that I could kill myself. Luckily, I was never successful. I had very low self esteem and nervous ticks. My mom took me to a therapist who prescribed Valium. This label of "slut" stuck with me internally and later in my life, I was free with my body. I was looking for love but at times I was used. It took me many years to battle my depression and low self-esteem. I am 54 now and I can honestly say, I've managed to heal myself. I am a strong woman and I no longer have negative self talk. This is a terrible thing that children do to each other. My daughter was bullied this way too but, together we worked through it and she is a strong, happy and successful woman. - Cynthia
I understand what it is like to be called sexual names. I was harassed in high school by the boys. They had a very bad rumor about me. Guys even chased me around the school for fun or to flip my skirt. Even had a guy tell me how he pleasures himself and wanted me to join him. I have been touched wrongly. I am glad someone is putting the word out there and how it affects us. I became addicted to people saying those things, even though I loathed it. After high school I sank into a depression. I would not eat and I would self harm. I thought many times, "Does everyone see me that way?" and I wanted it to end. I like to think, what if the roles were reversed? Maybe they would understand we don't like being whistled at like a dog, or "brushed up" against. Nor do we care if you're on the little blue pill, nor do we like it when you chase us "just to talk" or pin us against the wall and try to kiss or touch us. Been there, it really sucks. I now wear a ring on my left hand so men will leave me alone and if they start a conversation, I twist the ring around. I had one guy say, "I see your married, that's so sad, we could have been good together. Here's my number just in case you want to have fun." This man was old enough to be my grandfather.
I came from a large city and a large high school in what some people would consider a very liberal area. Because of the size of my school and the socially liberal views of the student body, there were different kinds of interpersonal relationships across the school that were accepted, for the most part, by everybody. I personally was in a committed relationship for about 2 years throughout my time in high school. Then I went off to study music performance in college. I broke up with my boyfriend, and started a new life as a freshman at a school far away from home with very different ideals than the ones that came with the liberal environment that I was used to. The music school was small, about 200 students out of the 6,000 undergraduates that went to my school. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew everyone else's business. I adopted a fairly cavalier attitude about intimate relationships; I was young, I had just gotten out of a long relationship and I wasn't ready for anything new, and I wanted to have some fun. Some people were uncomfortable with my sexually liberal views. They first called me "crazy", and after I had slept with two different guys in the music school, a "slut". I doubt that it had as much to do with the number as it did with my attitude toward relationships and the casualness with which I conducted them. A lot of my peers didn't share my same views and judged me because of that. Jealousy was also perhaps a factor, as I didn't have any reservations about walking up to people and introducing myself. In the end, being called a slut doesn't bother me too much. I came to school to perfect my musical skills and as long as I keep performing at a high level, I'm happy with that. My friends know who I really am and that's what matters. Those who care to think otherwise aren't worth my time. It's nice to come from a big city because you learn to have a tough outer shell. You learn not to care what others think of you. At the end of the day, as long as I know that I can look at myself in the mirror and know that I have stayed true to myself, that's what really matters. But for a lot of young women, the word "slut" affects them much more than it does me. The word is damaging and hurtful, and it tells these strong, beautiful girls that they are not deserving of respect. It can break girls down and ruin their happiness, pride, and their sense of confidence. This why I will never condone the usage of the word "slut", "whore", or any derogatory term specifically aimed at women. All girls are worthy of respect. - Kelly
Unfortunately I have several stories of sexual harassment, abuse and assault. I was sexualized as a young girl, where people would comment on how cute my figure was, even before puberty, before any development. In Jr. high I was constantly referred to as "the wall" for not having developed larger breasts, by one particular boy. I am sure there were others as well. I will never forget him or his name. On Halloween in his neighborhood he cornered me and sprayed shaving cream up my skirt. I was bullied by two eighth grade girls because I wore high heeled shoes and threatened with beating me up. In 8th grade I went from being popular to being an outcast for becoming friends with a boy who broke up with his girlfriend and began paying attention to me. I had never been kissed. All of my friends turned against me, calling me a slut. I was threatened again with beating me up. I turned to alcohol and drugs, partying. I was assaulted many times while too intoxicated to physically stop what was happening to me or not knowing what I was doing. Photographs were taken while I was held down, too drunk to resist. This was before cell phones or the internet, thank goodness. I attempted suicide twice. I got sober, got help, got better - but this is when I began to remember all the assaults. I didn't even know that is what they were until years later. Now, I am a counselor. We must share our stories with young women, to know they are not alone. We can make a difference in the world and help one another. No one should have to be pushed to end their lives by bullies or perpetrators. Thank you for this project, for your courage and allowing me to share my story. - Kate G.
I still struggle with some things today, but have kept up the fight to make myself stronger.10/17/2019
I'm not sure when or how it started, but I do remember that I was bullied and outcast in a small school. I think I was in 3rd or 4th grade when the tag "Slut" was placed on me and I would hear people laughing and talking about me and calling me a slut. I went through the rest of that school and into high school with that label, amongst many others. I had to fight back and I made the same kind of comments to others to get them to stop. But what they don't know is during that time in high school I was suicidal and became a cutter. I showed up with a "happy" smile, hoping I was able to hide the hurt but wishing I could die almost everyday. I still struggle with some things today, but have kept up the fight to make myself stronger and to better myself for myself and not anyone else. And I am finally getting a tatoo worthy of covering my scars from when I cut. A Phoenix rising from the ashes as I have risen above the pain and hurt of my past. - Jennifer Collins
As a seventh grader and a new kid in my school, I was labeled "slut" for not liking a boy back. I had not even had my first kiss. The bullying seriously impacted my desire to go to school and interact with my peers. In high school I was broken up with and labeled a "prude" for not wanting anything to go beyond kissing. I was afraid of being called a slut and still I was made fun of for another reason! A group of adults also labeled me a slut for being closer with the boys on a leadership council. Adults!!!! I cried for weeks. As a freshman in college, I was drugged at a party, brought back to a senior's apartment, and raped. The only person I tried to tell called me a slut. I struggled alone for 5 years until I had the courage to talk about it with my best friend and mom. The word "slut" has seriously impacted my life. I am now a middle school teacher who is committed to stopping bullying and finding ways to make kids feel great about themselves. - Catherine
When I was 11 years old and in 6th grade, I had my first real boyfriend. It was very innocent between us, just holding hands and kissing. One day, my boyfriend was hanging out with some older boys and they asked him if we had had sex and he just laughed, but never denied that we hadn't. Well, word spread fast that I was no longer a virgin and it didn't help that when an 8th grader asked my best friend if I was a virgin, she responded, "I don't know", which was taken to mean that I wasn't. I remember hearing older kids refer to me as a slut or "hooker" when I was around them. I will never forget walking down the hall by myself to go to the restroom during class time and the 8th grade girls were working on a project in the hall. I thought about turning back but I knew that they saw me and I really had to go pee. As I approached them, I avoided all eye contact and looked straight ahead because I could feel my fear about to turn into tears at any moment. As I passed them, I could hear each of them call me "hooker" and "slut" with an emphasize on the "t". I could feel the lump in my throat about to burst and I did all I could to make it to the bathroom before the tears started to flow. I stood in that bathroom until they left. I had to tell my teacher why I took so long in the bathroom and started to cry. I remember she yelled at my boyfriend and my brother because my brother was part of the 8th grade class that was calling me names and he said nothing to defend me. I never understood why my boyfriend or best friend would allow people to think I was sexually active. I hate those 8th grade girls to this day and was so happy to see them graduate...from Catholic School.
When I was 11, I started to experiment with make-up at school due to the images of females I grew up with by watching movies, TV and reading in magazines. It started with a little dab of eye shadow, some lip gloss and wearing a tank top (in the summer). I was quickly called a slut and a whore; yet I had never even kissed a boy! Let me tell you, it was confusing and hurtful for my 11 year old self to put together. Kids can be incredibly mean, nasty and terrorizing. I was simply a preteen wearing things I saw on TV and in magazines, yet I was shamed, humiliated and degraded by my peers. It was also my first taste to cyber-bullying back in 2000 with nasty, and threatening e-mails from an e-mail '[email protected]', I still remember how scared, shocked and hurt I was and how the 'lead' bully called me a 'horr' because she could not properly spell whore. These experiences have turned me into an advocate against bullying. In university I volunteered for a on-campus group and taught an in-school children's conflict resolution and anti-bullying group and I also mentored a group of at risk preteens in an after-school program. - Laura Scott
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