|
On December 26, 2014, I met this guy who I reconnected with from grade 8 and we had feelings for each other back then and gained them back. We kissed for the first time and it was like magic, like any first kiss would be like.. Over a month later, I noticed some changes in his personality. He started getting really controlling... when I wasn't with him he would text me 24/7 and ask where I was. If I didn't answer, he lost control and got really angry. Did I mention he had anger issues? Him: "Where are you? Who are you with? Why are you out? How did you get there? Why aren't you texting me back?" Like, I got that he was protecting me, but OVER protecting in a bad way. Weeks passed and he was at my house for a bit longer than normal... that's when he raped me and he got to the point where he was verbal abusing me. I was scared to continue this relationship, yet I was so attached to him and his charms. Later on in February of this year, I attempted to commit suicide because I felt there was nothing here for me anymore and nothing good was happening. I was broken and hurting inside and out. My parents found me and took me to ER. I spent the weekend there. Blood work, gross food, and sleeping all day... I loved that part. Weeks passed and I finally came out to my family, telling them what I was hiding: I was pregnant and had lost the child. I was afraid to get close to a guy again. I stopped dating and focused on ME. Months passed and it was April. I was doing better. Self-harm free for weeks and I was starting to slightly smile again. I met someone online that changed my life. We shared stories with each other and gained feelings. She was understanding. YES, SHE! We started dating on April 24th. We made each other happy as can be. She made me feel better as a person and that I am no longer attached to men, period... end of story. We are currently still together as of today, September 16, 2015. We are both in different countries, but we have made this long distance relationship work! I am so happy, I can be who I want and my family accepts me for who I am... no more hiding.
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
My name is Amy. I am a survivor of many forms of sexual assault, but the one I'm going to talk about today involves slut-shaming, and still to this day rattles me whenever I overhear a certain movie. My co-workers at the time, who I'll refer to as J and A, decided to invite me to hang out with them and their good friend, G. We were going to watch movies and relax after a long, busy day at work. I agreed since I'd been stressed out that day. We got to G's house and decided to watch The Crow and The Crow 2 since it was all we could agree on. We started the movie and J realized she needed to go home to feed her animals. A decided to go with her. We were about halfway through the first movie when G decided to move closer to me so we could talk. "So you're a lesbian?" he asked. I nodded and said "My partner C and I have been together for about three years and are pretty happy." He moved closer and asked if I'd ever been with men. I didn't realize it at the time but now know it was a red flag and I should have tried to get away from him. Then he pushed me down into the couch and pinned my wrists over my head. I tried to push him up off of me. He smirked and said "I'm going to make you never want women again, I'm going to turn you straight." Then he pushed up my skirt and pulled my underwear down, and I disassociated, and didn't really remember what happened next until recently. (I knew I'd been raped, just didn't remember details.) I ran outside sobbing, and waited for my friends to return. They showed up within ten minutes, but it felt like I waited forever. A asked if I was alright. I told her I wasn't and whispered "He raped me." She told told me she'd take me to the hospital right away. J looked as if she wanted to laugh. "Oh, like it was rape, you've told us you haven't gotten any from C in ages, I bet you really enjoyed it." I wanted to punch her but I didn't have the strength, instead A and I got in her car, and I decided not to go to the hospital. I got home and immediately hopped in the shower, scrubbing my body so hard that my skin felt almost raw. I knew that now I couldn't report it, but I didn't care. I'd felt so dirty and had to wash any traces of him away. Sometimes I wish I'd reported him, and I know I still can but I most likely never will. Since it was late, I decided I would wait until the next morning to call C since we both had to work the next day. Since I'd decided to take the day off and I knew she went in around noon, I called her. The conversation went like this: "Hey babe I need to talk to you about something important." "Okay, go ahead." "Uhm, I don't really know how to say this, but... uhm I was raped last night." She began to laugh, "Right you were raped, I'm sure of it. Even though you and I haven't had sex in ages, you have a high sex drive, I bet you begged for it." I hung up and immediately felt ashamed and like a slut. It felt like that night all over again. We broke up shortly after that conversation. For a long time after that, I constantly questioned my sexuality. I was a lesbian who liked it when someone used a strap-on, so did that mean I had wanted it that night? Since I'd been denied sex, didn't that mean I had wanted it? I felt like a slut, even though I logically knew I wasn't one. I'd been slut-shamed. I want those reading this to know that your sexual orientation doesn't matter when it comes to sexual assault. Neither does having a partner or being single. Just because someone doesn't believe you, I do, no matter what your story is. These days, I've reclaimed who I am, and no longer question my sexuality. I'm proud to be a lesbian, and proud to be a survivor. It's been a long, hard road but thanks to people like my survivor sister Nicole, good friends, and an amazing former therapist, I feel good about who I am. I'm hoping that by writing this, I can help others and finally put this completely behind me. - Amy M
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
When I was in primary school I was going through a very hard time. I would get verbally abused to my face, being called a slut, bitch, and I even got told to go and kill myself. I cried myself to sleep every night. I even faked I was sick so I could stay home, but even at home I couldn't get away from it - I was also getting bullied online on the school website we had, where we could talk to each other or send comments. I hated it. Someone thought as a joke it would be funny if I was with a guy. We dated, but then he broke up with me cuz he couldn't handle everything going on. He told everyone, and I was the laughing stock of year 7. I went home sick that day. This year in grade 9, high school, I still get bullied. I get called a slut, bitch, even get pushed around so that I had a bruise on my right side. My parents still don't know. I've come out as bisexual to a few of my friends. They accept me and support me whereas others don't, and there are rumors going around the school. But I have a lovely girlfriend who tells me it will all be all right, but I've tried to commit suicide 4 times. It sucks that I've turned to cutting but I'm trying to stop, and to stop throwing up after every couple of meals. So what I've leant from bullying is it ruins society and little minds. That felt good to get of my chest :) - Olivia Celeste
My father for many years would sexually, physically, and verbally abuse me. At school I was seen as a slut. Many of my peers saw me as attention wanting and some thought I was lying (I was just really good at hiding the bruises). At the age of 13 I fell into a deep depression and began to seriously self harm and about three times I tried to commit suicide. When I reached high school my father became more aggressive with his abusing because I came out as homosexual. My girlfriend at the time was very caring and called the police on my father. It was only after I went to the station and told them myself and showed them the bruises, that they finally locked him up. I lived with my grandma since my mother died with I was 2. While looking through Wattpad, I discovered The UnSlut Project diary entries. I read them all in one sitting and I was so moved by them. I then watched the TED Talk and some other clips. When I reached this website I was comforted to know that I'm not the only one out there. So I'm here to say thank you. Even though I'm still struggling with depression and self-harming. I will never forget how there are people out there who are feeling the same way - and that gives me comfort. - Jamie
I'm going into high school next year. I've always had a hard time in social relationships. I've been bullied since I was in 3rd or 4th grade by many different people for many different reasons. In 3rd-6th grade it was honestly just stupid, worthless bullying that I wouldn't let bother me. That is, up until about halfway through 6th grade when my sister passed away. All of a sudden I was weak and couldn't handle any of it. The bullying got worse and turned into girls calling me a slut to my face and guys coming up to me and directly asking me what I would do with them. It continued through 7th grade and through this year. I'm bisexual, but everyone at school now thinks I'm a lesbian. Because I told them so. I wore low cut shirts because I felt comfortable in them. I've always been comfortable with my body, but now I wear sweatshirts almost every day. Guys were getting too close to me and I'd rather identify as a lesbian than have people know I'm bi. I'm left alone more often now. No one dares to call me a slut, at least not to my face anymore, but I'm scarred. I'm not confident in my own body anymore and I'm in therapy for being suicidal.
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 belong to a conservative family in India where even talking about your periods is taboo. No boys, no movies, no pornography - that was the theme of my childhood and early teens (that rule is still in force). I went to an all-girls school, had few friends, as my parents are quite racist and passed judgments on others based on social background rather than intrinsic goodness. My parents were determined to send me to another state (within India) for higher education and after graduating from 12th grade, I ended up in a university in a big city. I was assigned a room in one of the dorms, which I had to share with 3 older girls belonging to other disciplines. I made friends with them, one of whom was named 'A'. She was from the same state as me and hence we decided to stick together. Within a week of my arrival, my roommates and their friends called me and 'A' for an 'introduction' aimed at getting to know us. This is one of those dreaded rituals for freshmen, as the so-called seniors can fire any embarrassing questions that you have to answer on the spot. One such question posed to 'A' was, "Do you have a boyfriend?" She answered no, and replied that usually boys were rowdy and therefore she preferred the company of girls. There were many giggles among the girls after this, and one of them loudly told me, between giggles, that I should not hang out with 'A' or I might end up liking girls, too! Needless to say, both 'A' and I were crushed at their cruel words. 'A' looked at me accusingly as it was one of my roommates who had declared her as a lesbian. And both of us could not protest against them. Freshmen who went against seniors had to face consequences. A year later, one of the girls in my class asked me for help with her studies. She was slightly disabled and belonged to a poor family. She had no cellphone, and therefore handed me a letter, where she had frankly written about her handicap, her family condition, as well as her request to be tutored by me. Out of embarrassment, she implored me to read her letter in privacy. However when 'A' and my new roommates saw the letter, they started giggling and declared, "Looks like a love letter, or else why would the girl ask you to read it in private?" I smiled at them but was deeply hurt - without reading the letter, how on earth could you pass a judgment on the sexuality of a person? The three years spent in the university were hellish - I encountered perverts who made lewd comments about my body and clothing, and occasional flashers who stripped before me abruptly when I was on my way to class early in the morning and vanished before I could call the university guards. 'A' told me not to tell these matters to my parents; it was part of the Honour Code – you did not want to frighten your parents and thus cause them grief and give a bad name to your university. And caught between "Good girls don’t get boyfriends and wait till marriage to have sex" and "She has no boyfriend and hangs with gal pals only - must be a lesbian," I sought the refuge of my textbooks. I could not spend the evening in the nearby park, as dangerous people loomed nearby (personal experience) nor hang around trees (evil spirits were supposed to haunt them in the evening!) nor use the washrooms in the park (gay men supposedly lurked in the washrooms of both genders and assaulted people who wanted a bathroom break!). The haunted trees and psychotic gays were of course rumours, but then nobody was willing to test these rumours and determine the truth. What I want to stress by my story is that a person’s sexuality is not a plaything. It does not matter whether you make fun of people on a mere whim - it hurts deeply. And if a straight person like me had to face ridicule on alleged lesbianism, one can only imagine the predicament of queer persons and transgendered people who face shaming. The UnSlut Project is one forum where I've found friends like Emily Lindin, who is willing to read into stories of countless women. So friends, no matter where you are residing, what your background or educational qualifications are - if you want to pour out your heart in a story, then please do so. Nobody is here to judge you based on looks and sexuality - we know what it means to be a loner, to be slut-shamed and ridiculed to the point of extreme depression. And if your gut feeling says to stay away from certain persons, then please trust your gut.
There was this one girl at my school who didn't really have any money. We soon found out that she was a prostitute, and only thirteen! Nobody wanted to be near her, people said she had AIDS, and there were more cuts on her wrists than I could count. She was the school slut. Guys still dated her, but only because she was "experienced". We all hated her. I started to feel bad for her, so I sat with her. She had told me that she was going to commit suicide, but she that had second thoughts after I became her friend. Then, rumors started spreading that we were dating, and sexually active. Now, she and I both were the school sluts. Ten years later, we are both still close friends, married to wonderful men, with children. When we showed up at the reunion, people were shocked, and nobody said a word to us. My middle school and high school experience was hell, but you can get through it if you have good friend(s). - Clarah May
I was either classified as a prude or gay (bear in mind, it was hard enough figuring out my sexuality without having people submissively label me) in middle school and high school. One of my first boyfriends would talk about how "hot" other girls were and who had the "nicest body," which naturally made me feel insecure. He ended up breaking up with me, his idea of affection ultimately involving more than kissing or treating someone right. In high school, my guy "friends" would ask me personal things regarding how far I would go with someone, I didn't answer and I was labeled prude, lesbian (once again, not an insult), and somebody even told the boy I really liked that I had "baggage" due to that previous relationship. I ended up going out with this boy and I really trusted him, I didn't feel comfortable doing certain things and he claimed he understood. I felt like there was something wrong with me. It wasn't natural for me to hold back. Eventually, he cheated on me with a senior. That was a great way to spend my freshman year. After being put on the spot about my sexuality at a party, I stopped hanging out with these friends and did successfully forget about this ex-boyfriend, but this bad experience led to my knowledge about slut shaming and sexual bullying. I am not prude for not wanting to do certain things, a guy isn't gay for respecting a girl and nobody should be judged or degraded due to their sexual activity.
Well, it all kind of started in 6th grade, when my ‘friend’ Allie had told everyone at my lunch table that I fingered myself. I told them I didn’t, but they believed her a little bit. Then I started going out with a guy and when I dumped him, he called me a slut, even though he was the first guy I went out with. At one point, he pushed me into a locker, for no reason. He was never caught. I went through a tough time at one point, and I turned to my online friends, and then he somehow got to talking to us, and threatened multiple times to tell people (the school, actually) that I’m bi, and tell them a bunch of other things that no one else but him knew. To this day, I don’t fully trust him, but we are friends. Allie and I, however, don’t speak anymore.
Like many girls I know, my harassment began in the 6th grade. Incessantly taunted not only for being a “slut” (though even currently I’ve never had any close contact with a boy) but also a “homo,” “faggot,” and “lesbian bitch” because of my short hair, my self-esteem endured a hard plummet. I was admitted into a governmental health facility for emotional rehabilitation that included therapy sessions and medication. An additional result of bullying, I also developed a dietary disorder. Recently, though, I’ve begun to gain a reputation for my intelligence rather than my tomboyish style and sexual involvement (though nonexistent). Though I felt defenseless and overwhelmed by the sexual harassment that occurred at the time, I gradually overcame its harshness to redeem my confidence and intellectual reputation, something that I’m very proud of.
I pushed away two of the most potentially amazing relationships because of my mom’s constant repression of my sexuality (one was a girl) and openness to religion (one was Muslim). I wasn’t 11 when I pushed them away, but the beat-down from my mom got really strong around that time. To get back at her for pushing her beliefs on me, I became the school ‘slut’ when I was around 12. Reading through this is like reading through one of my old diaries, but I feel like I was a lot worse.
I too kept a journal, although my sexual awakening came around 8th grade. Bonus twist! I was coming to realize that I was bisexual and had a number of mini romances with various girls in my social group. We were definitely the outcasts, so our exploits weren’t as noted as yours. However, when parents found out about my having made out with the girl I dated for the longest, I was immediately banned from all future birthday parties and sleepovers. Which yeah, ended up in my attempting suicide.
|
