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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 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
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 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.
This all happened when I was 17 and was a senior in high school. It was about a month into my senior year when all of the "popular" seniors got together and threw a Senior Party. Me and my 3 best friends all attended this party together. There was, of course, A LOT of alcohol. Everyone there had been drinking. Me and one of the girls decided to go off on our own and hang out. We drank a little (not too much, we were by no means drunk). Some at the guys at the party were hitting on us and we even flirted back a little here and there. The boys kept asking us to do things to them and were being really pushy. Eventually me and her went to my car to go call my mom and ask her to pick us up since we had been drinking and didn't need to drive. There were 5 other guys that went out to their car, which was right behind mine. We didn't even associate with them at all. When we looked for my phone in the car we realized that it wasn't in there. About an hour after trying to find my phone my mom and dad showed up and they were really angry at me. They took me home and called the other girls' parents to come and get them too. Apparently one of the people at the party called my mom and told her that we were super drunk and that we were sleeping with all kinds of guys. (Which by no means was true. We hadn't even kissed anyone!) I explained to my mom that none of this was true and that all of those kids were just bullies because they were so "popular". She believed me and supported me 100%. The next day at school as soon as I walked in I saw all of the stares and whispering. I even saw a couple of guys making really inappropriate gestures toward me. When I saw my friend that I was at the party with, I ran up to her and she was crying. She explained to me what all of the people were saying about us. Calling us sluts, hoes, whores, and everything else in the book. They said that we had a train run on us by 5 different guys at one time... I was horrified. We ran straight into the bathroom and cried together. When we got out of the bathroom we saw our other 2 best friends that we attended the party with and they looked at us like we were completely crazy and made a big scene about how they didn't want to be seen associating with the biggest sluts in school. I was so upset that I called my mom and told her what was going on, she was so angry she came up to the school. All of those boys that were telling people that we did things to them denied it to the principal. I never wanted to go to school again. I started skipping class just to avoid all of them. Things eventually got a little better for the two of us.. Our friends apologized and even started sticking up for us, along with a few other people. I met a guy that treated me like a queen. He helped me get through all of that and always stood up for me even though he didn't know me very well at the time. He knew about all of the rumors but he still gave me a chance and never listened to anything disgusting anyone ever said about me. 4 years later, he and I are married and have a beautiful son! - Brooke
Towards the end of my senior year my friends and I started partying. We were just trying to have fun, most of us had never even drank before. It started out all fun and games, just making memories that could last forever. We all graduated together and partied even more, but enough background story. One night I ended up losing my virginity and it was exciting and sad altogether. So I told my mom and went and got on birth control. Well my best friend Jon and I had been fighting. He stopped talking to me. He and I being best friends since sophomore year, I took it hard. We'd almost dated a few months prior. Well I went out and slept with 3 more guys within 2 months, just trying to have fun. Well one night my friends and I were having a group call and out of nowhere Jon (my ex best friend) called me a whore on the phone, and I just hung up the phone. Just taking in the concept of someone I used to be so close to calling me something I never wanted to become hurt. I cried every day for a while. The rest of my friends never said anything. They didn't comfort me or say, "He didn't mean it" or "It's not true." They never said one thing to me for months. I felt betrayed and lost. I felt like every one of them thought I was a whore. He even tweeted about me that same night, calling me a whore and a slut. Telling me I probably couldn't even name all the guys I'd slept with or that I couldn't count them on my fingers. Every comment filled my heart with more and more sadness. And because this town is small everyone saw the comments being made on Twitter and everyone knows what happened. Rumors about me to this day still go around. People still ask about me or bring it up when I walk by and it's been a year. Ever since then when I hang out with my friends I feel like they still think I'm a whore and that they talk about me behind my back. Nothing is the same anymore. But your story and your project has filled me with happiness. To know that others have experienced similar things and that someone cares enough to start a project that helps other girls so they don't have to be alone like I was and is trying to change the way people define each other means so much. You, Emily, are my personal hero and you have forever impacted the way I think about myself as a person. Thank you for just being you and sharing your story with the world and starting this amazing project. Much love for The UnSlut Project and thank you for reading my story. - Shania
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 forgive the people who were unkind to me. I forgive the people who judged and still judge me.10/21/2019
12th May 2013. The day I woke up naked in an unfamiliar bed with a cut on my forehead and an unfamiliar pain in between my thighs. I feel weird sharing this story because no one has never believed me before and I have always held myself accountable for what happened to me. I was in year 13, an outstanding student, a prefect and a virgin. I did live a secret life and that was the fact that I was drinking a lot. To the extent of me blacking out. But I never ever let people know just how dependent I was and still am with alcohol. Because I was done with my A level History exam, I thought it was a good idea to go hang out with my friend from school. All I remember from that evening is getting tipsy and laying my head down "for a minute to rest". I remember him laughing saying he was the better drinker. I woke up naked. And my whole body hurt. I wore my clothes and walked out of the room to find my "friend" sprawled out on the couch in his pair of blue boxers. I had a sense of strong foreboding. I had had sex. Unconsensual sex. He had had sex with me while I was passed out or close to. I was disgusted. I remember asking him what the hell had happened and he said nothing. I asked why I was naked. He told me he had tried to sober me up by putting me in the shower. I left it at that and went home but noticing that I was bleeding, went to the pharmacy and bought the morning after pill. I was ashamed of myself. I didn't know who to tell. I thought I had brought it on myself by drinking beyond my limit. But again, he was my friend. I should have been able to trust him, right? Nevertheless I didn't go to school the next day because I was in pain and full of self loathing. I wish I had because I doubt he would have shamed me the way he did that day. My best friend called and told me that he was going around telling people that "he hit it first" and that I was screaming for him and that I was tight and all other vulgarities. I remember telling her he had raped me but her brushing it off like it was nothing. It turns out that as I was passed out and naked he had called up his best friend to come over. His best friend was telling everyone what I looked like naked. It was all too much for me. I lost friends and the boys all slut shamed me. No one believed me. I remember retreating into myself and hating myself because I felt that that precious part of me was stolen. I had brought it on myself, or so everyone seemed to think. I had gone to his house with the intention of having sex. It's two years now but the pain of being alone in this has never left. I recently told my mom and she's been helping me through it. I have gone to counseling but it still doesn't remove the fact that because I was raped by definition, due to lack of valid consent (drunken consent is not consent). I have had a problem taking sex seriously. I started having more sex after the pain never left because I felt I was worthless and my body was nothing. After all everyone believed I was a slut and that I had brought it on myself. It is only recently that I met a guy who even though is not in my life that way anymore, showed me that I should not drink to be intimate, and he is the first guy I have been with sober and it felt alright. I am consciously working towards respecting my body more and seeing that even though I was raped and slut shamed for it, I do not help myself any more by shaming myself, too. I have forgiven that boy. I have forgiven myself. I forgive the people who were unkind to me. I forgive the people who judged and still judge me. And I am kind to those who are slut shamed because I know how one misgiving on your part as a girl can lead to everyone being nasty to you. - Mutesi
I lost my best friend at a very early age due to slut shaming. My best friend was raped while drunk at my house and I had to move that year. The boys then bullied my best friend behind my back until she killed herself. To Nancy Meogeout, I am so sorry I had to move at 13 and abandon you. I will never forgive them or myself. Not only did the boy get away with it, he thrives now. What do you suggest to honor this woman who was only 20 at her death? - Jaye
I have always been a very sexual person, ever since my mom first told me about sex (when I was in kindergarten). My mom's one of those spiritual, earthy, I guess you could say hippie moms. She protested the Vietnam war and all that jazz. So she was very open when it came to sex. It was a natural, beautiful thing that should be done all the time. I was raised that it was healthy to have sex a lot, as long as you were protected. So when I was 14 I experienced foreplay for the first time. Rumors started to go all around town, I live in a small town by the way, about how "Katie got fisted!" Or "He stuck his entire fist up her!" I cried and cried, but didn't want to tell my mom because, well, I was 14 and I was shy and embarrassed. Now the rumors weren't true, but as I gradually progressed so did they. I had experienced lust and I wanted more. I lost my virginity when I turned 15. The big time word for slut in our town at the time was, "trout," and of course since my last name started with a 'T,' I had the nickname, "Katie trout." Still to this day (I am almost 21 now) people will ask me if my last name is trout. I started to dabble in drugs. First marijuana, then ecstasy, followed by cocaine. When I turned 16 I went to a rehab/behavioral center called Provo Canyon School for 10 months. Every time I got to go on a visit with my family I would text this guy that I had a crush on. Now, having just turned 17, and having been locked in an all girls facility for 10 months, I was dying for some male attention but I had a bad feeling. I get a phone call from this kid at 3am saying, "Hey I'm right down the street, wanna smoke a bowl?" So I walked down there and he was belligerently drunk. He asked if I wanted to have sex and only having had sex a few times, I declined. So he grabbed me and threw me in a bent over position. I tried to get up but he kept throwing my head down and it kept hitting a concrete brick. So I gave up. I got anal raped that night. After that my drug use spiraled out of control. I began to smoke methamphetamines daily just to forget what had happened. How I was violated. At this point I was 18. I went to another rehab/mental hospital. What they call dual diagnosis programs. I have bipolar and severe PTSD, and was self medicating with the crystal meth. Eventually I got out and ended up going to an amazing high school called North County Academy, which is basically a school for kids on probation or with severe mood problems or drug programs. I graduated in 2013, ASB president, a peer mentor, prom queen, and I established the first ever prom at the school. One day I decided, since I was doing so well and I was so stable, to contact my rapist and confront him. He told me that I was a dirty slut and I had wanted it and, "Go back to the mental hospital, Katie trout." That night I relapsed. I went to one more rehab, who referred me to my therapist whom I have now. She is truly my lifesaver. Now I am 20 years old in a stable relationship with the man I am absolutely in love with, I go to a outpatient drug program, I go to college, and I work at a residential drug rehab as an intern so that I can get my drug and alcohol counseling certificate. I don't believe in calling women sluts. Because we just don't know what goes on behind closed doors. We can't experience their lives, their pain, their pleasure. So might as well let them live the way they are going to, all judgment aside. - Katie Traugh
It was Valentine's day 2 years ago and I had lost my keys, my friend kindly let me stay at his place. I was pretty drunk but we stayed up for a bit talking and watching videos. When I tried to go to sleep he started kissing me. I pushed away and told him "no". He kept asking why and telling me how he'd always wanted to. I kept coming out with excuses like "I like someone" "I only see us as friends" etc. He told me that no one would find out and he did let me stay at his house, after that he kept kissing me and I just said yes because I knew he would do it anyway. During it, I'd tell him to stop but he wouldn't listen. The next day I was sober and realised my "friend" of 4 years did not listen to me. My "friend" betrayed my trust. I reached out to a couple friends about it and asked if it was rape, a couple said yes. I started to slowly accept it a few months later and stopped having panic attacks, but someone told him I said he raped me. He was incredibly rude whenever he saw me and glared at me and barged into me. That's when I decided to go to therapy, after my friends had stopped speaking to me. Since I was sleeping around, people thought I lied because I "was a slut". I was suicidal and began leading a reckless life of drinking and sleeping around even more. Two years on, my friends have apologised and I do feel better, I have my bad days but I have a good life now. I still panic when I see him but I can put it behind me and just use my experience to try and help others going through the same or to at least take away a little bit of the stigma.
I was a cheerleader in 9th grade and that allowed me to mingle with guys that otherwise never would have talked to me. One of the track super stars J.M. asked me out to a party with him. I had never been on a date before so I said yes and we went. He kept giving me drink after drink and eventually took me upstairs. He took off my shirt and started groping my chest. All of sudden his friends burst into the room and I got dressed. I went downstairs and he followed. I was standing outside and then went over to him and said, "What are you going to say about me?" His friends made comments, asking if I blew him, and I said no. I said, "I want to go home now." I started to give him the cold shoulder and his sister even confronted me in front of a bunch of people, saying I was a slut that broke his heart. I still think of him every so often, and wonder if he thinks about what he did that night (or other nights with other girls), and if he has any remorse at all.
I was raped and brutally assaulted the summer going into my senior year of high school. For weeks after the incident I kept it a secret for fear of judgement, but eventually the fear of pregnancy or disease was too great that I told my mother and was taken to the hospital for a rape kit. I chose not to press charges because I didn't want it to get in the way of my senior year and college application process, but more so because in the back of my mind, I thought it was my fault. Society had taught me that no matter how many bruises and cuts I had to prove the assault, that because I was intoxicated it was just as much my fault. For anyone considering pressing charges, please do, it is my biggest regret. Rape is the only crime where the victim can be blamed, don't let this continue. Rape is rape and we need justice. - Megan K.
This was an era before cell phones so I couldn't imagine it happening in this day and age.10/17/2019
This is going back into the 80s. My sister and I were tall, long-legged identical twins in grade 9. One weekend, we had gone to a barn party in the country with a few older guys and friends. Alcohol was introduced that evening and everyone had a bit to drink. On Monday at school I recall sitting in chemistry class when the boy in front of me turned around and said, "I heard you F'd so and so standing up on the weekend". I wanted to die. The whole class was laughing and labelling me when essentially it was bullshit. This was an era before cell phones so I couldn't imagine it happening in this day and age. Needless to say it was bullshit, as that evening it never even progressed to sex, just heavy petting. The guy just wanted to become a self-proclaimed stud. It didn't really matter. The slut label held all through high school. In fact all through high school we were called the "twiggy twins" and our nick names were Moaning and Groaning. Our real names are Rhona and Mona. I hated high school. I tell my kids this story so they realize what lies and bad choices you can get yourself into. I also recall later when I met a girl who had been younger in high school and became friends. She said everyone had said we were sluts, but at the time we were virgins, long after all of the popular girls lost their virginity in high school. - Rhona
My story is the ironic counterpart of slut shaming. When I was a teenager through my early twenties, I was heavily involved in a drinking lifestyle. One of the quirks I developed was a tendency to enjoy kissing boys, but I never wanted more. My friends nicknamed me the kissing bandit because I would just kiss the boys and run away. It all seemed very innocent to me. Very quickly, I became a bit of a game for my friends. They would make bets about when I would have sex. Soon, I was called a "tease" on a regular basis. Even one of my closest friends (who was a little more promiscuous) told me she would hate me if she was a guy because I'm such a dick tease. I handled it playfully for the most part, knowing it just wasn't I wanted. It was fun to be affectionate with boys, but I knew my limits. I felt "why shouldn't I be able to just kiss boys?" It didn't seem so bad to me. I would even tell them ahead of time that I didn't plan on sleeping with them, just so they couldn't call me a "tease" and act like I led them on. I was a virgin until I was raped at 21. By this time, I felt like it was my own fault because I was such a tease. It was a man I was dating and he insisted he "had to" after I said no countless times during an up-till-that-point enjoyable make out session. Just the night before I had told him I was a virgin and didn't want to have sex with him. He said it was fine and he understood. I went into the date feeling confident and safe because he knew my limits and respected my boundaries. I drank too much and couldn't defend myself. I never called the police because I felt like I deserved it, like no one would care or believe me because everyone knew what a tease I was. Within a few months of this incident, I checked myself into rehab after falling into a devastating spiral of depression and drowning myself in alcohol. But, I couldn't drink away the memories. Not of the bets, the names, the constant outside interest in whether or not I had sex yet. Now, in my 30's, it still hurts to look back on. You are a slut if you do, a tease if you don't. We need to stop paying so much attention to each other's sex lives. I guess I don't understand when it became anyone else's business whether I'm having sex, much less how often. Or why people feel it's their job to tell you what they think about your sexual decisions. One thing is for sure. It never had anything to do with my sex life. It had everything to do with other people being judgmental assholes. - Anna D.
Never in my life have I been branded a 'slut' or a 'whore' or 'bitch'. Nothing like that - because my mother would've found out and definitely put a stop to it. Sure, I have been bullied, but not like that. Because I live in such a small town - everyone in my year have known each other since we were born. It isn't a bad thing, but it isn't a good one either. When I was 16, I had no friends. This was because I was the new kid, and everyone had formed friendships at least over 10 years before I came. Half-way into the year I met a girl (let's call her Evelyn) and we quickly became very good friends. She was pretty, nice, had lovely friends, and was really popular. I was set. In October we were invited to a Halloween party. This wasn't uncommon, but exciting. We arrived and immediately I knew that it felt wrong. I wanted to leave but Evelyn wanted to stay. So I shut my mouth and did as I was told. When everyone around me was tipsy at about midnight, they formed a circle. Evelyn had been making out with a hot guy, and he stopped and threw her into the middle of the circle. They started to remove her clothing, one piece at a time, all whilst calling her names. Disgusting names were called out and spat in her face. Eventually I got through the crowd and took her home. On Monday, everyone had seen the video. Of them taking her clothes off. Of her naked. She was called a slut by her own best friends. Evelyn took her own life a month later. Please, don't slut shame. It is wrong. And if you are a victim, please tell someone so they can help you. If you see it happening, try to help. This needs to be stopped, because it is wrong and disgusting. - Lily Faulkner
I was a camgirl for several years and I was open about it with my boyfriend. He was supportive of me and my expression of my body, he never acted judgmental or degrading towards me. Camming made me feel strong and sexual and dynamic and I enjoyed it. It was safe, legal, and a good source of income in college. One night my boyfriend invited me to a friend's house for a game night, proceeded to get me very drunk, and ended up sharing me with a number of people at the party. I am still not sure how many people. He video taped it and weeks later decided to show it to me as a surprise. He thought I'd like it because I was a camgirl. He thought I'd be okay watching myself get date raped because I took my clothes off on camera. His response when I screamed at him and left him was that if I had a problem being naked and sexual on camera I shouldn't be a camgirl. I quit camming, I've had impossible trust issues ever since, and what is worse is that his words affected me so deeply that I have never felt like I deserved to try and go to the police about it. I feel like I let other women down by being another woman to keep it as my dirty little secret. Well, I'm writing it now. Camming made me feel strong, like a virile sex goddess completely in control of my own body, with control over who had access to it. I let someone take that from me and it took ten years to get it back. Never be afraid to claim your body. Never be afraid to want sex, any way YOU want sex. It's yours. You belong only to you. And anyone that tries to take it from you, or make you feel guilty for claiming your sexuality, they deserve to feel shame, you deserve to be proud.
I was drugged at a party and sexually assaulted in college. The combination of drugs in my drink resulted in long lasting memory problems and the entire experience increased my anxiety and the frequency of panic attacks. I feel horrible asking my professors for extra help and special accommodations because of what was done to my brain by those drugs I never consented to taking. I feel afraid to ask them for help because I am afraid they will judge me. Everyone seems to blame me for taking a drink I was offered by a guy I thought was nice. Guys always say we judge them all too harshly, that not every guy is a rapist, yet when I do trust a man to give me a drink, he drugs it. And it's still my fault for taking it. Do men really not see the paradox here? I'm supposed to trust every man as a good guy, or at least not believe he is a bad one, yet when I do that and he hurts me, it is still MY fault!? It is infuriating. I carry a bitterness in my heart for the "good guy" who forever affected my education because he saw me as nothing more than a sex toy. Well, I will show him. No matter what he gave me, I will graduate with honors. He does not define me, I do.
This summer, I was super drunk at a party and I had sex with a boy in a bathroom. The only boy I have ever had sex with before was my then boyfriend of 9 months. I'm 18 and single. I kept the incident to myself. The boy didn't. The following weekend I was at a party and my friends began shoving their iPhones in my face telling me to look at Snapchat. A boy at the party took a picture of me when I wasn't looking and in the caption he put my hookup's name and called me his "slam piece". Immediately I looked for this boy who posted this. He disappeared. The surrounding boys saw the picture and were laughing at me. Some of my friends looked at me differently and I felt their shame. I ran to the bathroom and started crying of embarrassment. I've never felt so belittled. If the situation was reversed and I was a boy, I would get a pat on the back. Instead, I'm looked down upon as a slut. Fortunately, I leave for college in 6 days and nobody will know who I am. Sad that this is the reason I'm excited to leave this town.
I found this page a while ago and it struck me because I never thought that slut shaming was a thing. In my culture, apparently, it seems normal to have an opinion of the sexuality of every female. More than once I had thought of myself as a slut, just because I like more than one boy at a time, and sometimes I like girls. When I read about this project I learned not to feel guilty about it. Or I thought so. So here is my story. I’m an engineering student so most of the time I’m surrounded by males. Most of them I consider my friends, but sometimes they can have slut shaming attitudes like calling a girl "puta" because she has big breasts or saying that the only way a girl can agree to be in a threesome is if she is a slut. One night after drinking, I told one of them my experiences, and he was surprised that I had so many (according to him), I told everything, everything I haven’t told anyone because of fear of been called a slut. Later that night he tried to kiss me and do other things, I told him that I was too drunk to make a decision, that I didn’t want this to happen but if he kept pushing I wasn’t going to be able to stop him. I remember that he promised me that if I didn’t wanted to, we weren’t going to have sex. However later that night he kissed me again, put his hand in my pants and took me to the bathroom where we had oral. Fortunately I was conscious enough to stop him when I saw that we didn’t have a condom. Now I feel guilty and used at the same time.
I was "blessed" with an hour glass figure: big breasts, tiny waist, big hips. This figure started developing when I was very young and by the time I reached seventh grade, I was a C cup. I was 12 years old and men in their 20s were hitting on me because they couldn't see the child's face past the woman's body.
It was seventh grade when the rumours started. A few of the significant ones I remember are of me apparently having a video of me stripping on Youtube, that I got naked on webcam for anyone and strangers, that I wasn't a virgin, and that I stuffed my bra. I had never even kissed a boy. The middle school guidance counselor didn't help either. She was constantly harassing me about my inappropriate clothing. I wore the same clothes as everyone else, from the same stores, but somehow they were inappropriate because I had a form for them to fit. I was constantly sent home, called in to the office, and forced to wear clothes from the lost and found. It was humiliating. When I asked why I got in trouble when other girls wore the exact same shirt, I was told that I just didn't have the body for it. It seemed that the school wouldn't be happy unless I dressed like a boy. It was eighth grade when things got way worse. During the summer, I had my first boyfriend but he was from a different town (my grandparents lived there and I had spent the summer with him). Everyone either thought that I made him up or that I was doing horrible immoral things with him. Since being a "slut" wasn't the only thing I was bullied for, people found it hard to believe I could get a boyfriend. The second favourite insult of my tormentors was "fat," since they were too young to notice the waist in between the hips and breasts. Someone found my Yahoo! answers account where I had gone to ask questions about my body, and they twisted things around and told everyone that my vagina smelled like cheese. For the rest of the year, people constantly yelled "cheesy odour" at me. On New Years (still grade 8), my older friend took me to a party. There was drinking involved. One of the guys there took an interest in me and we ended up having sex. I had only ever kissed a boy before so I didn't understand what was happening until about halfway through. The rest of the time I remember sitting there wishing it would be over but not wanting to be rude. My friend went back to school after the break and told the entire high school what had happened. After that, I would have random girls on the street or the bus or the mall yell at me, call me a whore, accuse me of having STDs, etc. I got another boyfriend in March of grade 8. My "best friend" made up countless rumours that were absurd, but everyone believed anyways. She said that she had came over and there were used condoms all over my room, that I had sex with my boyfriend in my front yard, and other things to that effect. The summer before high school, my older friend got mad at me and turned everyone in the high school against me. I also got black out drunk at a party and when I came to, I was in some guy's backseat bent over puking out the door and he was inside me. After that, I didn't believe that I had the right to say no. I'm not going to lie, there have been countless others and to this day, I'm not sure how many of them would even be considered consensual. They would beg, and I would give in. The times I did say no, they told everyone we had sex anyways. I felt like I owed it to them, to anyone who wanted it. I couldn't say no. Ninth grade started. My older friend kept trying to fight me. There were countless rumours of STDs, pregnancies, countless sexual partners, and anything that also degraded me (bestiality, threesomes, bondage, cheating). I had friends but they all talked about me behind my back. I think my "friends" were responsible for more rumours than anyone else. One girl kept trying to fight me over rumours. She would chase me through the mall, or come punch me, or harass and accuse me of things. People yelled things at me, harassed me online, threatened me. At one party, two girls tried to beat me up and push me in the bonfire. At another, I fell asleep and woke up to people kicking me, pissing on me, and T-bagging me. No one had stood up for me. There was an older guy (21) who came to the school and fell for me. When I rejected him, he came to the school with a knife, threatening to kill me. The police were called. After that, things got worse. I was a slut and a narc and I was in danger, so we moved to another town. I went to this school for a year. I got a boyfriend and things were mostly fine. There were a couple rumours: some girls said they saw me giving him head in the parking lot. But for the most part, no one took them seriously. It was always there in the background but it was easy to ignore until my boyfriend and I broke up. Things got bad again, people were threatening me, so I ran again. I actually had to finish the last couple months of my schooling from home because it wasn't safe for me at school. I started a new school for grade 11. This time no one even tried to get to know me. My first couple weeks were filled with random girls accusing me of trying to steal their boyfriends and trying to fight me. Things calmed down and I was invisible. I literally did not have one single friend. I started dating a boy who was also new and things got bad again. People were yelling names at me, making up rumours, saying I gave my boyfriend a hand job in health class. They carved "health class hand job" onto the doors of the gym, screamed it when I walked past, whenever they saw me in town. It was basically like that all of grade 11 and 12, except this time, I didn't even have fake friends. I was completely isolated. No one had ever even bothered to talk to me unless it was to bully me. The boy I dated ended up being a jerk and contributed to a lot of it. He cheated on me all the time, but somehow I was the whore. It was just unbearable. It was everywhere I went and I had no one to talk to. I was completely alone. I broke two months before I graduated and tried to kill myself. I took a lot of pills and it made me sleep for days and really sick but I lived. After that I realized that I couldn't kill myself because all of those assholes would be the same ones posting on Facebook about how it's such a tragedy and they don't know what went wrong. I couldn't give them that satisfaction. I graduated high school and thought it was over, but it has followed me. University is filled with my bullies from every school I attended, I can't go to the bar without being harassed, people bully me online, whenever they see me in public. I can't escape it. I'm 20 years old and people are constantly messaging my boyfriend to tell him how bad of a person I am. That's the worst of it. Everybody thinks that I'm the bad person. Countless people bullied me, even more stood by and let it happen. These same people go on Facebook crusades about how wrong bullying is, but no one cared when it happened to me. But I'm the bad person. Because I'm a slut. Because people turned me into a self-fulfilling prophecy, and made me believe that I wasn't worth anything more, that I owed men sex, that I didn't have the right to say no because sluts don't say no. Because I developed curves a little bit too early. I don't know how to escape this. I can't make friends. I can't get a boyfriend. As soon as people hear I met someone, they flock to tell this person why they need to avoid me. And it's really, really hard to have absolutely no one. I'm ashamed of my body, I'm ashamed of my past, of my number, and I don't think anyone will ever accept me for it. I'm 20 years old and still being judged by rumours people made up when I was 14. The truth? Almost every guy I have had sex with has coerced me into it when I had originally refused. Some of those guys didn't bother coercing me and took what they wanted regardless of what I said. I have been in 3 serious relationships. I have never cheated. I dated my high school boyfriend for almost 3 years, and my last boyfriend for 7 months. I have not had sex in 6 months. I have probably had sex with between 60 and 70 people. I wrote something to a guy via Facebook that I believe might have been something a little naughty, but I'm not sure because I was drinking a lot back then. A girl that doesn't like me at all for sleeping with her boyfriend got ahold of this message and sent it all over the Internet and now I am getting dirty looks and even rude comments from people and laughing! It's making me sick! I have 2 kids that need me so suicide isn't really an option. I'm starting to feel depressed, anxious and paranoid. Nobody deserves this!! I am a good person. I just made bad mistakes when I drank.
I was a very awkward and socially unaware child, which naturally escalated when I hit puberty. I had always been bullied for a variety of things. This wasn't helped by the fact I grew taller than all my friends, had very thick, frizzy hair, and my breasts suddenly developed. However despite this, at the age of 12 I found a group of friends. I cut my hair and straightened it, and by 13 my new friends and I would go out drinking every weekend. Boys in my school openly mocked me for how I looked, that I was tall and fat, and I was desperate to lose my virginity in order to get some validation. If I couldn't be accepted at school I would a least gain value from boys outside of school. I did lose my virginity, which no one seemed to find out about, however at 14 I slept with a 17 year old Marine my best friend fancied. I was very drunk at the time and hardly remembered the experience, but I told my friend because I knew she would find out eventually. All of our group of friends stopped speaking to me, all the details of my sexual experiences became common knowledge and people I didn't know from my school would call me a slut and whore when they walked past me at school. My friend told everyone I had slept with her boyfriend, and how much of a slut I was. The school became aware of it and I had to defend my actions to my teachers, who thought I'd brought the situation on myself. It became a self fulfilling prophecy and as I felt continually pushed out at school, I started associating with more and more people who were completely disconnected from my educational system and taking drugs. I was so desperate for what I perceived to be positive validation, I slept with a lot of people just to feel wanted and attractive. I recently met a boy who called a whore from my year at school on a night out and he told me he'd said those things cause he wanted to sleep with me and secretly thought all the other boys had said it as well, cause they wanted to have sex. I don't know how I felt about that. During the aforementioned time, my dad told me all I'd ever be useful for was my cunt and when I asked him for money one he he told me I should 'turn tricks for money like the other whores.' I was 15. I've now somewhat made peace with how I acted when I was younger, but still feel resentful for how I was bullied and treated because of it.
The truth is, I don't even know if what I'm saying is correct. When I was little, I was always a little on the pudgy side and my brother used to tease me about it constantly, until in grade six, when I began to use unorthodox methods to shed the weight. All the boys began to notice me and my self confidence started to build, until my brother decided that it was time to get me drunk for the first time at the end of grade seven. We were the only ones at home and I didn't even realise how drunk I was getting until it was too late. There's a lot of blank spots but I distinctly remember my brother undressing me and putting me in the bath, and how I told him that I didn't want to take off my underwear but he wouldn't take no for an answer. I think I remember him trailing his fingers in the water when I told him to leave and how he wouldn't allow me to walk to my room and carried me with his hand conveniently or accidentally resting on my breast. I know it's not the worst thing that can and has happened to many girls, and I'm not even sure if my drunken mind made half of it up but I know that ever since, I can't stand it when people touch my body, even my girlfriends when we share a bed at sleep overs. I've never been able to tell anyone because what if it is all just an unintentional fabrication and I end up ruining my relationship with my brother and his with my family forever? At the end of the day, no matter what happened, I still love him and would never wish to be the cause of any conflict in his life. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to share. - Pia
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