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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
I was in 6th grade when it started. I was just the "ugly slut" and people said I was a lesbian. I lived with it. When I hit 7th grade it got worse. I had no friends and people were scared to go near me. People were saying I was gay, I had HIV, I was pregnant, and I was a whore. Although none of that was really true, it still hurt. I lived with it. Then I moved schools because I couldn't handle it. My parents never knew I was being bullied at all. I still got hate online but I lived with it. At my new school I started fresh. But then it started again. No matter what I do people hate me. I tried to just ignore it but I couldn't. January 12, 2014 I got in a fight with my mom and I tried to kill myself. I took handfuls of sleeping pills. I have never been so upset and I have never hated myself so much. Luckily my mom found me and rushed me to the ER. I was put on a 72-hour hold in a mental hospital. When I got out I pretended it never happened! It felt like the only way out. That's when I started drinking. I got not only myself but a handful of people in trouble. I didn't have a care in the world. Then I found out I was pregnant and my whole world stopped. And that's my story.
I’ve never been the pretty girl of the class or even the beautiful one, but when I turned sixteen, I changed. I had boobs, I was skinny, and I had a pretty face. I started to go out, went to parties, drinking, and met boys. I was a virgin when I was 17 years old, but everybody call me a slut. Why? Just because I had a "slut face," just because I liked to dress in a sexy way. Just because they could do it. They could go out and say: do you see that girl? She's a whore. And everybody would believe it unquestioningly. At the start it doesn’t hurt. I knew that I didn’t do all the things they said. But then it changed. I liked a boy. The kind of boy that makes you feel sexy and then makes ten other girls feel sexy, too. The kind of boy that doesn’t want more than sex. I’m not blaming him. I knew that when I went with him. And I used to think that I wanted it too, because I didn't deserve more. Or if I deserved more, I'd never have it. And I had sex with him. I had sex with a boy that thought I was a slut. But I was virgin, and he never knew it. But he went out and told everybody that wanted to listen that I was "bad in bed." That I was a "rookie." Everybody still called me slut behind my back. I know what I am and what I’ll never be. But it's still happening. Boys that hardly know me think I’m a whore. But I’m not a slut or a saint, I’m a person. And nobody should expect anything from me because I have nothing to prove. I’m a person. I’m a woman. And even when they call me a slut for doing what I want to do, even when it hurts, I’m still a person. I deserve to be treated with respect and the people who don't respect me, doesn't deserve to be in my life. I'm not a slut. I don't have a "slut face." I'm a person. And I know it even when the rest of the world doesn't. - Carla
It was a long time ago, but when I was 15 I was drunk and was spit on in a club by a bunch of boys, because I've been "easy" and kissed 3 boys from the same school. I didn't start having casual sex after many years. There were only kisses, thank god, because if not, I don't know what they would have said or done to me. All these boys went to a catholic school. My school was much more open minded. It is such a common thing (among women as well) to make nasty comments or undermine women who are open about their sexuality. I wasn't raped, but it doesn't have to go to that extreme for people to make you feel really bad about yourself. I hope all those teenagers out there can overcome the pain they are going through. It does get better. This is a great project. Thanks so much.
I’m 15 years old in 9th grade in Northern California. I moved here from the UK last August. Last July, in the UK, I went to a party. I was pretty popular, I had a lot of friends. The boys at this party tried to get me drunk. I had never had alcohol, and I was given lots of drinks that started off being mixed with alcohol, and then became pure liquor. They succeeded with getting me completely out of my senses. About 6 guys made out with me and forced me to touch them, and they touched me. They trampled on me and held me down at points. One guy literally dragged me up the stairs into a room and unzipped my shorts and tried to have sex with me. I told him to not, I didn’t want it to happen. I was on my period. I never found out exactly how close we got to having sex, but it was scarily close. People went round at the party saying that we had sex, and a couple of girls who were my close friends said that I was on my period. I woke up the next day with bruises all over every part of my body and feeling horrible, disgusting. I can’t even find the words to describe how I felt at that time. There had been a Facebook event for this party, and everyone was posting about me on that page, talking about the boy and how he fucked “period girl.” People I didn’t know messaged me calling me a slut and making jokes about periods. I was sent texts by people from my whole school asking if I needed a tampon, or if I was loose enough there already. I wanted to die. I felt dirty and believed everybody. I believed that I was a slut. I was so ashamed, school was hell for me. The worst part was that everyone just didn’t talk about it to me, but no one could hold eye contact with me anymore. I tried to explain to my friends, but they just kind of brushed it off and called me a slut behind my back. I still didn’t tell anyone about what happened, like my mum. But ever since that night I had dreams about that night. I couldn’t stop them, and I was so terrified that I didn’t even know how far we’d been. My nightmares were hell. I want to thank you because your blog makes me feel like I’m not the only person who has been slut shamed and hasn’t done anything to cause it. It makes me so upset that so many people go through being treated like this. Your entries are great, I’m so glad I found you.
At a high school party my friend and I were both date raped, but because we had participated in drinking at the party, once the rumor spread about how we had sex with 3 different guys the entire high school blamed us for our actions. Yes, we were sixteen and wanted to drink at the party, but we never planned on waking up naked in an empty room having to piece together what had gone on. The shame and embarrassment kept us from pressing charges. We were called sluts and that night still haunts us both.
I was in the 9th grade when I was labelled a slut. I had had boyfriends before the 9th grade, but hadn’t had much of any sexual experience. Then one night, my ‘best friend’ got me drunk, pushed a condom into my hand, pushed me into a bedroom with the boy that I was dating, and told him to be gentle with me. I barely remember the night, but the next day at school, my ‘best friend’ told everyone how much of a slut I was. She later said she just didn’t want to be the only school slut anymore.
"It was a long time ago - 1972 to be exact. I was a freshman in high school, at my first house party when the parents were not home. I had had one drink (with almost no experience drinking) and was sitting in the kitchen talking with some guys, guys I thought of as friends. The subject of sex came up and I (stupidly) made the observation, based on ZERO experience, that it sounded pretty awesome. From that moment on I was a slut; and that moniker followed me throughout high school. It was a long, painful four years. My first name starts with an S so I was “S*** Slut” all thought high school. It was devastating, and surreal that I had gone to being someone who was terrified at the prospect of kissing someone to being a whore.
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