Yes I trusted the wrong person and I felt guilt when people found out, but I learned to not care.10/28/2019
It all started in middle school. 6 years ago I'll never forget. I was an antisocial nerd that just enjoyed video games and wrestling. I wasn't even sexually active. I only had one boyfriend but that relationship wasn't even serious. I was 13. I was in 7th grade. My story is probably one of the worst, I wouldn't wish this on anyone. So let's start off, shall we? I was bullied in the beginning of my 7th grade year for something completely unrelated to sex. I was bullied in my class because I was different. My uniform was nicely pressed and not trendy like the girls around me. They teased me because of how wide my pant legs were. They said I looked cheap. I was so depressed, everyday I had to brace myself for some more foolishness. Then another girl joined their little group. She went right along with them and she didn't even know me! Why am I saying this you ask? Because those same people "slut" shamed me and got the whole class to do the same. There was a kid in my class named Bobby (not his real name). He was mischievous. He always got in trouble at school. He thought that he was cool. One day I was in class and I bent over to pick up a book. He was gyrating behind me and I had no knowledge of it. The whole class called me a slut because they thought that I wanted him to do it but I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT HE WAS DOING IT! So the girl that I talked about earlier in the story, Alexia, was the first to shout out "Hoe" and the rest of the class followed through. It was a ritual for them to tease me daily. I didn't seem bothered but I was. Then my reputation was so tarnished that in April of 2010, a boy forced me to perform oral sex on him. His name was Johnathan. I didn't want to do it so he grabbed my hair and forced me. I struggled. He was then unsuccessful and threatened to tell everyone that I did it just because I didn't want to. On that day my life changed forever. Everybody including my big brother called me a slut. I tried to kill myself twice. Why you may ask? Because I told the guidance counselor and the teachers and they took no action! That was sexual harassment and it happened on school grounds. I was still a virgin. I wasn't promiscuous. I had no one to turn to. I looked in the mirror and said to myself that I can make it through it all. I went to school everyday. Slut was basically stamped on my forehead. So I wrote 4 books. These books were over exaggerated stories of how slutty I was. I made up fake sexual experiences since people wanted to believe it. I said that I fucked this guy and he didn't even exist (joke's on whoever believed it). I was entertaining the rumors basically because they wouldn't believe me if I denied it. In 8th grade those rumors stopped. Almost everyone that bullied me no longer went to that school. It was like a new life. I dated my long time friend (we lasted 3 1/2 years). Life got better. Until high school... In my senior year I broke up with my boyfriend that I dated since 8th grade. It was my choice actually. So since I was single I wanted to mess around so I slept with a long time friend that went to my school. He lied to me and told me that I could've trusted him and he wouldn't expose my business to everyone so I had sex with him. He told all of my ex's friends including my ex. My got into a new relationship and his girlfriend was spreading these rumors too, but she kind of added more to it. She said that I slept with all of his friends but it was only that one guy. I got into a fight with her over the rumors and ever since then, they ceased but I learned to never be ashamed of being sexual. Yes I trusted the wrong person and I felt guilt when people found out, including my ex, but I learned to not care. I am me. I am not really promiscuous but I love sex. We as women shouldn't feel shame for wanting sex. I was even shamed before having sex! When I actually had sex I was in my mid teens (16, 17, 18) and it wasn't with a lot of people and even if it was, I still wouldn't feel shame. I don't feel guilty that I slept with him because it felt great. I just wish that I could've trusted him. Please don't kill yourself. Please don't feel ashamed! Sex is a part of nature and both sexes are welcome to engage in that activity! Unfortunately for me and where I live I couldn't freely fuck guys without being shamed. It's my vagina, I don't need permission from society to use it. I don't need permission from society about how many people I can use it with. As for my ex, I am not sure if he actually "slut" shamed me but he was disrespectful for even telling his new girlfriend about a lie and allowing her to shame me. He changed as a person. He was such a gentleman when we were dating. Now he's just a horrible person. Never allow your ex or anyone to shame you! - Lynn Joseph
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
I'm from Raleigh, NC. Freshman year I was in marching band. I was the only girl in the saxophone section and it sucked. Fast-forward toward the end of first semester. I'm sitting on the floor in the band storage room minding my own business, when a boy named John walks up in front of me and starts Magic Mike air humping his junk in my face. Then another boy joined in. His name was Rasheed. While they were doing this I kept telling them to leave me alone. Then I tried to kick them away. One of them laughed when I stood up. John said, "She's not going to do anything." I was so upset I screamed at them as I got to the door. I grabbed my things and ran out to avoid the confused looks I was getting from the other students. When I got home I told my parents and my mom call both of their parents. John's mom told my mom that I was lying and that her son would never do that. She called back after calling other band kids and asking their side of the story, which were all her son's friends, so they lied for him. Then John's mom called back telling my mom what the other kids said. When my mom called Rasheed's mom, she didn't even question it and she confronted her son. The next day at school every single band student had found out John's version of the story and they were alienating, "slut" shaming, bullying, and calling me a liar. Some people even confronted me and called me these things to my face. They would text me repeatedly the same word, calling me "thirsty." Meanwhile John would send me overly sexual texts asking me to do things that were degrading and belittling.
Things only got worse as it progressed to sophomore year. My instrument was being tampered with almost bi-weekly, they stole my personal items like scarves and jackets that people knew I owned, or they'd destroy my stuff. The band director made an effort of saying going into sophomore year that he didn't care what was going on, but it wasn't going to happen during his band stuff. Though most of the time it felt like he was either making an example of me or trying to punish me. He blamed me for having a maggot in my mouthpiece... When I took it to a professional shop they looked at my case and instrument and told me it was impossible and that it had to have been tampered with. But the worst part happened when my test anxiety evolved. First my hands would shake or I'd get a nervous stomach. Soon after I started having anxiety/panic attacks, at least two every week. I remember each one I had. I remember at one point blaming myself, crying myself to sleep if I was lucky to get sleep, having nightmares every night without fail, insomnia, waking up with red, irritated, puffy eyes and thinking sometimes to myself that I wanted to disappear or be home schooled. Within that time I was diagnosed with anxiety and medicated. The summer going into junior year my mom and my principal, who was sick of hearing my name so often, managed to get me transferred to another school. The most shocking thing that happened was when I went through psychological re-evaluation (which is a common thing for kids with ADD/ADHD). The new doctor diagnosed me with anxiety, PTSD, and insomnia along with having trust issues. When I found out, I was the idiot, thinking, 'Oh my gosh, it was that bad on my mental health,' in an awestruck way. This upcoming year I will be a senior in high school and when I think back on those two years of torture it really shaped my final decision on what I want to do when I get older. I am going to share my story of bullying with you. I hate to say it, but in this story, I am the bully. This story starts back in daycare. In daycare I became friends with a kid named L. We were both the same age and we played a lot together. We had a great time with each other until we drifted apart and I started hanging out with other kids. When I got into grade school, I went to an after school program run by the daycare I went to as a toddler. I didn't see A that much anymore, but I met M. M was another girl like me. At the start, M and I hated each other... and I mean HATED. There were seriously times when we talked about killing each other. It was bad. As time went on, M and I started to like each other more and more. M and I found out that we were really alike and we became fast friends. Around this time I started to develop a crush on my friend from daycare, L. I think it was in Grade 4 when I really started to have a crush on L. I would think about him a lot, and I finally got the courage to ask him out (with M by my side). L said yes, and I was so happy. My relationship with L lasted a whopping 1 day. He was my first boyfriend, so I got over him pretty easily. I ended up dating one more guy before I started having feelings about L again. Now, flash forward 2 years to grade 6. I was still best friends with M, and I was starting to become really good friends with L too. I had told basically all of my secrets to M, so she knew that I was obsessed with L. Then one day, L asked M out. I was pretty upset when I found out that M said yes. M didn't even like L yet she was going out with him. With time, I became accepting of M and L's relationship. I told myself excuses like "they'll break up soon" and whatnot, but they didn't. The pair was inseparable. This relationship was lasting a lot longer than I thought it would, they were dating since the start of Grade 6 and it was now the middle of Grade 7. I decided I would do something that I told myself I would never do. I tried to split them up. I started to try to split them up by telling M how she could do so much better or by telling her that L would look at me or grab for my hand walking home. It didn't work. M would just brush off all of the comments saying that he was joking around. When this didn't work, I started to go further. I started to say that L had tried to kiss me on a snow day or that he would flirt with me walking home. Now M started to notice. The thing is, M was pretty much the perfect girlfriend and would talk it out with L. Nothing seemed to work. Then I got an idea, an awful idea - I would start to target M. I was ruthless with my rumour spreading. I would tell L that M called him stupid, even that she never liked him (which was partially true - M had developed feelings for him by now). At this point, I should have just stopped and apologized. I should have turned away and admitted defeat, but I didn't. I kept on going even though I knew that they had both clued into my scheme. Again, nothing was working. So in a last ditch attempt, I told L that M liked one of his friends more than him. This time L payed attention. L ended up breaking up with M and I was pretty happy. (I know I'm an awful person, I have come to terms with it by now.) But, just like our relationship in Grade 4, that decision only lasted a day. I am thankful that me being a bully stopped by the end of the school year. I am now in Grade 8. M and L did eventually split up, and now M is with another guy in our class. I know that this may not seem like a horrible act to some, but you have to understand that M was going through others bullying her as well. When I - one of her friends - bullied her, that gave another crop of a-holes like me an excuse to bully her as well. The names that I called M sometimes still come up today, more than a year after the bullying stopped. I hope that my story both prevents others from bullying, as well as sheds light on why people bully. I would like to apologize to everyone who has been bullied in any way, I am thankful for those who were strong enough to withstand it, and I feel the pain of those that couldn't. Thank you. Sincerely, Moira
I've always been one to stand up for myself. I'm so thankful for a strong, proud, loving mother, who taught me to value myself, that my words and thoughts are valid, and that my body is my own. In elementary school, I first encountered sexual bullying. It wasn't being directed at me, but one of my best friends, who had developed large breasts at an early age (around 5th grade.) Boys and girls called her a "slut," and talked about her body freely. It got to the point that she was afraid to even go swimming with me without wearing a big, opaque t-shirt. I experienced bullying in different forms at the time, so while I identified with the pain bullying caused, I couldn't identify with the type of bullying she was experiencing. It wasn't until I was in 8th grade that I started to, sadly, understand what she'd gone through. Boys began thinking it was funny to "snap" a girl's bra clasps and straps. One boy, who I considered a friend, walked by me in the very crowded hallway one day, and pulled back on my bra, hard. I instantly became enraged, and slugged him in the arm. I felt so violated, not just because of the physical and sexual nature of the act, but because it violated the trust I had in him as a friend. I started to develop a reputation as someone not to be messed with, due to my confidence and ability to stand up for myself and other people. Most people thought I was much tougher than I actually was in school, and it's a little sad to think that the negative side of that kind of reputation may have caused some people not to want to get to know me, because they thought I was a "bitch." In high school, I experienced unwanted touch, like an ambush kiss in the hallway, and the occasional sexually explicit comment. For the most part, the incidents were mild. I think it's probably because I wasn't a very sexual person at a young age, and wasn't necessarily "girly"; I was more focused on school work and art than relationships, and didn't even begin wearing makeup or styling my hair until my junior year in high school. It was that year that I had the most disturbing experience with a classmate, a boy, in one of my classes. He was a goth kid, shy, smart, and nice to me. I wasn't attracted to him, but I enjoyed talking to him, so when he asked me to a dance, I said I'd go with him as a friend. We agreed to meet there, and we just hung out for most of the dance, since he didn't actually have any interest in dancing. After the dance was over, he tried to kiss me, but I moved away. He asked if I wanted to go out on a date with him, and I, politely as I could, said that I wasn't interested. The next week at school, a friend came running up to me saying that he was telling a group of people in the courtyard that I was a bitch for rejecting him, and that he was going to slit my throat. No one, to my knowledge, had ever threatened my life before, and this boy was so angry that I wouldn't kiss him or date him that he was telling everyone who would listen that he was going to kill me, and how. I remember putting on a brave face, and telling my friend that I wasn't afraid, but I was. I believed that this boy would hurt me if he got the chance. I even wished that I had allowed him to kiss me, so that he wouldn't be so angry. I honestly don't remember which adults I decided to tell about his threats, if any, but, thankfully, he never attempted to harm me. It was the first time I'd ever really rejected someone's advances, and I found out instantly how dangerous that can potentially be. It was a turning point for me, knowing how far some people are willing to go when they don't get what, or who, they want. Later in school, I would go on one date with another boy who I liked, but after going out, didn't want to pursue a relationship. I turned him down when he asked me out again, and he told people that I had "led him on," and called me some names. I would think that it was hurtful, but that it could be so much worse. - Chelsea Keesler
Everyone believes them and that's it. Period. There's no asking me. My answer doesn't matter.10/23/2019
During my whole high school career I had tried to avoid being "that" girl. The girl who puts out easily,who everyone hates because of how many guys she talks to and for some reason people think she has slept with everyone. Going into my junior year of high school, I started to go out and become more social. The first week of the school year I had gone out and got a little bit drunk for the first time. One of the guys there came up and started talking to me and asked if I wanted to go to his car. At the time I didn't know that that meant he wanted to do other things so I agreed. While sitting in his car I started to get sleepy and close my eyes. All of a sudden I felt him get on top of me and start kissing me and touching me. I remember that I didn't really know what was going on because I wasn't completely sober. Fortunately, he did not force me into sexual intercourse. The Monday back after that weekend, a particular guy in my grade who was there at the party and who I think at the time liked me, told everyone what had happened between me and the other guy. I have never felt so ashamed of myself while walking to my other class while this guy and a group of other guys looked and even pointed at me. It was the worst feeling ever. After that time I had gone out with other guys and it was a one time kind of thing, but they had always encouraged the idea of us having sex. I was still a virgin and they knew that. Of course I would say no, and they wouldn't force me into anything, but after a couple of days, there would be talk that I did have sex with them. To me, it was incredibly unfair. I had tried so hard not to give them what they wanted but in the end it was their word over mine. I also felt slut shamed because I didn't do what they wanted me to do, and for that they said that I did do these things. After a while I finally found a guy that I respected and I felt he respected me. We weren't going out for a long time when I decided, at the age of 18, to have sex with him. It was something I chose to do. I knew we weren't in love but we respected each other and that was more important to me. Before having sex, I knew that he heard the rumours of me sleeping with other guys, but I had told him that I was a virgin because that was the truth. When having sex, I didn't really act like the stereotypical "virgin". I wasn't scared of the act and I felt ready for it. After that we stopped talking to each other and I had found out that he had said that he didn't believe I was a virgin, especially after us having sex. It was another moment where I couldn't believe what was going on. Because these other guys just say that I had sex with them, everyone believes them and that's it. Period. There's no asking me. My answer doesn't matter. I want this to stop because it is very unfair that I get blamed and I even feel bad for things that I didn't do! It is an unjust world where in this specific topic, the girls are to blame. - Daniella
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 perky girl who loved herself slowly turned into the perky girl who pretended to be happy.10/17/2019
I couldn't wait to start 7th grade, gone were the backstabbing best friend and the horrible things that were said. I no longer wanted to be that quiet, easy to bully girl, so I became perky (without noticing it) and if someone said anything bad about me I would laugh it off. Till one person called me a slut for wearing a skirt. I had NEVER been called a slut so I was completely shocked about this. I had thought that the bullying was done. I couldn't tell anyone because I didn't want to appear weak and needy for help. So this girl continued to call me names "Slut, Bitch, Hoe" and soon I began to believe the words. The perky girl who loved herself slowly turned into the perky girl who pretended to be happy. All because of words that weren't even true. I am naturally skinny but this girl would tell me that I starve myself and that I was ugly. I soon developed anxiety and would stress about going to school. But one day a girl I never met saw the girl calling me a slut and a bitch. And went on a full rampage. Saying stuff like, "The only bitch around here is you." That girl has become one of my best friends and the happy perky girl is back and isn't leaving. - Zoe
Back in my hometown in Upstate New York, I didn't really have a problem with any bullying or slut shaming. Sure, there were a select few, but because I lived in a small town and grew up with a close-knit circle of friends, they protected me and never let it get me down. But when I was in my Sophomore year of high school, my parents told me I was moving to Maryland. I was devastated, as were my friends. To this day, I only talk to two of my closest friends from back home. When we finally settled into our home in the summer of 2012, I was actually excited to get a fresh start, to redefine myself like I've always wanted to. That was very quickly shut down within the first month of attending a new school as a Junior. Everyone else around me was preppy and very clique-y; they didn't want to accept the new kid who was very laid back and was more of a "T-shirt and Jeans" kind of girl. But none the less, I tried to fit in and started dating. Within the first year of living here, I had dated four boys, three of whom were younger than I was, and each relationship lasted no longer than 2-3 weeks because they bored me. I didn't see it as an issue since it never got past a kiss, I didn't do anything sexual with them. I just saw it as going through a deck of cards to find my ace, to find "the one." But nobody else saw it that way. I was labeled as a whore. A slut. A succubus that everyone had to stay away from. Rumors flew around school that I had blown this guy, f*cked that guy, slept with half of this team, flirted with half of that team. In my senior year of high school, destructive behaviors began. How could I have been a slut when I've never slept with anyone in my life? What did I do to deserve that reputation? I made myself mute in high school and began going to college part-time just to get away from it all. I drowned myself in school work just so I could have an excuse not to talk to anyone outside of my family. In October of 2013, a boy I fell in love with broke up with me the day of our six month anniversary all because I was "too emotional" and "he couldn't take that I didn't have any friends." That was my breaking point. I began cutting my thighs, slowly cutting myself off of food, and obsessed over how bloody and irritated the skin around my cuts were what I thought was "beautiful" at the time. My parents found out a month after and helped me stop, helped me to realize I didn't have to do this on my own. It took me a year to fully recover from all of the depression and suicidal thoughts. At that time, I found the man that I'm in love with today. He treats me like a princess, makes sure that I'm happy, and makes it a point to help me work on my communications skills (as you may have put together, I don't like talking to people about my issues as a result of the bullying). My point in my tale is this: It will get better, even if it may not seem like it now. I've been through it all. I know what it feels like to not want to be here anymore. I still have days where I get depressed, but I'm lucky enough to have a supportive family and a supportive, loving boyfriend. I am 18 years old now, and I do not let my bullying experience and slut shaming high school years define the woman I am today. - Miranda Cardillo
My name is Koriander. My pen name is Codename Sailor Earth. And I am not ashamed to be her. If you Google my maiden name, which was "Koriander Ake", you will likely see a page called "Encyclopedia Dramatica" and you will see a poorly photoshopped picture of a penis on my face. The trouble all started when I posted a video on YouTube, of a CGI girl dancing. I was using the software MikuMikuDance and I had edited a model someone sent me of Hatsune Miku. Since I love Miku and I love Hello Kitty, I re-dressed her in a Hello Kitty outfit, and did a three minute animation of her dancing. Two weeks later, I started getting death threats, because the model my friend had sent me, was made by some blogger named "Saboten". Never heard of Saboten before, but once the video was up, Saboten posted a hate blog against me, calling me an evil woman. Saboten played the victim card and encouraged his fans to shame me. After that, I started getting harassing and threatening emails from a 4th grade algebra teacher, calling himself "Damesukekun". He and his friends started posting all kinds of lies about me, and three times since 2010, Damesukekun has made fake copyright claims against my website and even photos of my face, claiming he had the right to my image. I had to fight a DMCA claim, because a total stranger is trying to claim a right to my face. Soon, Encyclopedia Dramatica had a hate shrine devoted to me, and members started trashing me everywhere, and they even went so far as to stalk my mom and brother. After that, they hacked my ODesk page, and posted my now deceased grandfather's home address as my own, claiming I posted this as my address, and that I deserve to die and be raped for the evil I am. I lost three job offers because potential employers Googled my name and saw the hate. One woman actually told me that if I'm this much of a "dirty slut" then maybe I deserve it and should hang myself. She was fired not long after this, but the damage was done. While this is going on, another group on Facebook found out I love wrestling, and found out I have friends who are pro wrestlers. Next thing I know, all of us are getting tagged in gay pornography photos. While reporting the pictures to Facebook, I got hacked, and two men posed as me, two via my account and a new account on Facebook, and one on DeviantArt, and the three men started tagging my entire family in pornography under my name, and then harassing my friends on the two websites. And yes, I've been slut-shamed also because of my addiction to video games. If I'm not a "slut" because I love Nintendo, then I'm called one for playing "the wrong game" or for enjoying playing a game that "TCH only REAL MEN like, NOT guuuurls" and yes, I've been called names I can't even type here, just because I'm pretty good at Street Fighter. Nothing quite like being called a "whore" by a 10 year old boy on XBOX Live.
Since 2010, I have had strangers harass me, slut shame me, post lies about me, and attack my family and friends. Each time, I have gone to FBI and Police officers, only to be told it's my fault, that I never deserved the right to post my name online, and I deserve and asked for what I got, despite the fact that the two states I lived in while this was going on ~ Kentucky and Indiana ~ actually do have decent laws against this level of harassment. Our laws are fine. But finding officers who will enforce them is a nightmare. Nothing like feeling slut shamed by both male and female officers, simply because they didn't want to help me, nor did they understand the internet. In 2013, I worked for a wrestling company here in Kentucky known as PWF. We had three bookers, all three of which never treated me as their equal, or even as what I was, the wife of the promoter, their boss. I was always put down, because I'm a woman, which automatically makes me a "whore" despite the fact that my husband is the only person I've ever gone to bed with. On my wedding day, my now husband kept getting texts from his third booker, begging him to back out of marrying me, because I'm a ball and chain. After we were married, I had a falling out with that last booker, and he threatened to spread a rumor on Facebook that I had slept with five different wrestlers, three of which I have never met before, and the other two I only know on Facebook, just because we had a fight. Of the other two bookers? One posted a slander video against my husband and three other people who fired him, the other eventually backed off, when he realized I was no longer going to act as a free babysitter to his kids. While I have had wrestlers show me respect, and it isn't hard to find a few that appreciate a woman's advice, these three bookers felt that my plumbing made me inadequate as an adviser, or even as a friend. I've had people on Twitter, Facebook, MySpace, DeviantArt and Tumblr try to tear me down and slut shame me. And yes, having non-stop harassment from people you don't even know DOES affect you. You start to wonder if you even deserve a place in this world, when so many people attack you. I'm not ashamed to tell you I've cried, I've screamed, and I am not at all afraid to tell you I thought of suicide before. But stopping me was the love of my now husband, at the time, "BFF" John, who made me see the value in living as myself, despite everyone's best efforts. My husband was originally my best friend on MySpace, and the first person, and many times only man, who really had my back each time I was hacked and doxxed. He stuck by me, even when his own friends wanted him to abandon me. And through his support, and the support of true friends and my mom, I realize that I never should have been worried about how the world will see me. The older I get, the more absurd this all seems to me, and the less the taunting bugs me. I can get angry at the comments, but I realize now that the people who slut shame really don't have lives. In fact, I pity them, for this is all the fame they can ever see. So let them tell lies. Let them slut-shame. These people can't amount to anything, so this hate is all they have to live for, and nothing more. So without another thought, I can say with pride, I am Koriander Bullard. I was once Koriander Ake. I am Codename Sailor Earth. And I am not ashamed to be her. 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
I'll never forget the first time someone called me a slut. It was 8th grade. I heard whispers from the boys, the girls, and my "friends". That was 10 years ago. It's funny how a word like that can define you, or at least you think it does. It stuck with me for many years. In fact, 5 years ago when a friend was advising (read: judging) me on an enjoyable sexual relationship I was having, I straight up said, "Well, you've always considered me a slut..." It wasn't until then that I realized some people see sexuality differently. My friend may have considered me a slut from the time we were in 8th grade, but I saw it as experimentation and enjoyment. See, I'm from a small town, where the label didn't disappear when I went to high school. Though I had a steady boyfriend for all 4 years and only slept with him, the one time I made out with another boy, the label crept up again. Oh, and college wasn't much different. The label, slut, stuck with me. It wasn't until I started to embrace it that it no longer bothered me. Now, people can call me a slut and I don't hear it. Trust me sweetheart, I've been called that enough times that it doesn't really mean anything to me anymore. It's true, I enjoy sex (when done safely!). I like it this way and that way. I like it with one boy or two boys or no boys. I like the way it feels. And it makes me feel good too. It can be empowering for me. I sleep with people on the first date or without a date. I like one night stands and I like hook ups that last for months...or years. I can still count how many people I've slept with and usually their names. Even if it's a made up one, like "That Guy From the Bar". So sure, I'm a slut, whatever that means to you. To me, being a slut means sexual freedom and personal pleasure. Men can be as sexually active as they please, yet no one judges them. In fact, they are, for the most part, praised for this behavior. But when a woman acts similarly, she is punished with hateful words and labels. So let's change the conversation. Instead of punishing girls for being sexually active, let's make sure they're enjoying themselves safely. Safe sex is fun sex. - Ali
Ever since I can remember, I have been the odd one out in the midst of my extended family. I am the only child of my generation to have tattoos, to be anything other than heterosexual, to express my sexuality outside of monogamous heterosexual relationships. My adoptive father began sexually abusing me before I turned 1 year old. When I finally came clean about this to other members of my extended family, they flat-out refused to believe me. Moreover, they made it clear that my membership in their clan was predicated upon my adherence to their party line. He was the golden boy - the one with the doctorate, the successful boy made good. They immediately began to ostracize me while adopting an external attitude that I was a victim of insanity, that my mind could not be trusted. My mother, meanwhile, acted as though I was some seductress whore who had fantasized the whole thing. To this day, I do not feel comfortable expressing my sexuality with men. I hate being stared at; I am afraid even to leave the house for fear of the flashbacks that come from my interactions with men. I have spent years trying to ease the hatred I developed as a teen for my body, believing it to be the site of all this pain. My mother still refuses to believe me, all the while actively trying to quite literally talk me out of my own memories. Though no qualified professional has reported me incapable of recognizing reality, she persists in her determination to rid me of my last sense of security - my trust in myself. Thanks to all of this, I have come to realize that I do not have parents - that I in fact never did. Rather, I have two individuals who I cannot trust to have my back or to take care of me. I am alone. One day, I know I will be able to ease my way to the other side of this. However, I also know that I have lost years of my life to events that I had no control over. Thanks to feminism, I am beginning to recognize that no one "asks for it." Women who wish to have sex freely say so; women who are raped are never given a chance to say one way or the other, or are not listened to when we do. It is not our faults. It never was. - Bekha Scharlach
On August 8th, 2014 while I was still 17, I was sexually assaulted, assaulted in one of the worst ways possible, and I didn't know what to do. I was so angry at myself and so disgusted, I felt worthless, I felt like piece of meat, I still do. I felt as if I was just a vagina to men, that they only wanted me for my body, that I wasn't even a person, like I was just an object. I didn't want to report it, I was trying to move on with it on my own and find my inner peace and harmony since I'm a Taoist. I worked so hard to forget the horrible crime done to me, I built the highest walls trying to forget the memories from the evening. I tried so hard, so hard. But I couldn't beat it, everyday flash backs would come back and I would lose myself, I would cry, I would get so angry, I got disgusted at myself for letting a horrible thing happen to such a strong person like me. I had told few people about my rape because I trusted them, and one day I told my friend because her father was in the same fraternity he's in and she was beyond upset, upset to the point that she dragged me to Victim Services and had me report it. And, I can not explain how grateful I am to her for that. Reporting was so hard and scary, having to relive and remember that night is so sad and heartbreaking. Having to retell the event to strangers isn't easy. It's SO HARD. It's hard because of the fact I'm still scared, I'm scared of men, I don't trust men, I fear walking places and I fear so much. But I'm so glad I did. We got the ball rolling on my case and 2 days ago, we had the hearing and he got away with it. He got away with doing one of the worst crimes ever. It was so hard to see him, to watch him lie about that night, to watch him try to diminish my character, when my character had nothing to do with him raping me. I felt and still feel injustice. I did all I could, I did EVERYTHING I could. I told my story, I went to higher power people to try to help me and I got nothing from it. I'm not bitter, well I am. But there's nothing I can change, the verdict was given and I have to go on with my life. I'm not the same person I was before, I'm forever traumatized, it sucks. It really does. But I'm a firm believer in "the way" and life is going to come back at him and bite him in the ass so hard for the things he did to me. It may be years down the road but he is going to get what he deserves. I can't dwell on the past, all I can do is move forward and live freely. Rape is horrible and it ruins people, it ruined me. - Gabby Winkler
When I was eleven, I understood sex, I had a group of friends who also understood it and if my classmates who didn't understand it, I was the one who explained it to them. (My name is Naomi.) I explained BDSM, fingering, dry humping, and much more. But there was only one classroom in my school, so in all classes I was seated in the very back of the west side of the classroom. The girl seated in front of me was the vice- president of our class (I'll call her Susie), and beside her was one of the most respected girls in class (I'll call her Amy). They both hated me with a passion, they tripped me over, pushed me, slapped me , called me a whore and slut, they said I had sex with half of my class - when I'm a virgin. One day the girl who sat beside me was absent, so my best friend (I'll call her Christy) sat on the empty chair, and Amy turned around and said to Christy, "You better stay away from Naomi or else you'll lose your virginity." Amy thought of me as a sexual predator, like I'm an animal. Susie slapped me many times, Amy peeled off some of my skin on my arm, and laughed at me when my face fell flat on the floor. Amy told Christy many times that I would rape her. Susie complained about me talking, even if she was really loud in talking with Amy in class. It started to become daily and they started to make rumors that I'm lesbian (I studied in an all girls school). I was scared to tell a teacher since Amy was a teacher's pet but I told a teacher anonymously, and it all stopped. Even if it's been a long time since it happened it still stings, so if you are being bullied tell someone, don't let them win, prove that you are stronger than them no matter what.
I live in a small town. I am currently 14. My story started in fourth grade when a girl from a big city moved here. The boy she had a crush on liked me so she told everyone I was a slut. All my childhood friends believed her and joined in on calling me a slut. This killed me inside. In sixth grade when everything got worse, I told my mom about what was going on. We put a stop to it but apparently that didn't last. When I went into seventh grade everything got worse because we don't have a middle school - we get thrown right in with the high schoolers. So when I started dating a guy a grade above me, all hell broke loose. The girl who started the rumours ganged up with my boyfriend's ex who was two years older than me. They started some of the worst rumours I've heard about me. Those rumours sent me into a deep, deep depression. I told my mom about everything and all she did was tell me she raised me to be stronger. It was terrible. I never got any help so my cry for help was telling someone I wanted to kill myself. My parents found out and were devastated. I was on suicide watch for a year. That is the year I figured out my life wasn't really just my life. My life is also my parents, my friends, and everyone else. So here I am a year later with the same rumours getting spread around about me but I don't let it get to me. I hope eventually they'll go away but at this point I'm more worried about making sure I don't fall down into a depression again and so far I've been doing fine. So there's my story.
When I was 14 years old, I was gang raped by 4 older boys who went to my high school. A few of which I had really trusted and thought of as my friends. It totally destroyed me. I didn't want to tell anyone what happened but when the men started telling their side of the story, that I was a slut, I told my best friend what really happened and she convinced me to go to the police. I tried, they tried, but ultimately there wasn't enough evidence to press charges. I lived in a small town at the time - everyone knew everything and everyone in my town was convinced I lied about being raped. They ripped me apart. Brianna Lumb became a household name, the definition of slut. I couldn't go to a party without being bullied right back out of it. I dropped out of school because I couldn't take all the whispers and the pain of everyone thinking they knew me. I was afraid to leave my house, when I used to go out with my parents I would literally hide in the back seat of the car because I was so afraid of being seen. Even now, almost 7 years later, people still think of me that way.... It never goes away once you get that reputation. But what has changed is me. Even if the people in my town haven't. I don't live there anymore, I am traveling, seeing the world meeting good people who love me and respect me and BELIEVE ME. The people in my town might never change but my hope is that some day soon, slut shaming will stop and no girl will ever have to feel the way I felt in high school because it changes you and sometimes it makes you stronger, but sometimes it also kills you. - Brianna Lumb
At the age of eight I was introduced to the world of sex among other things and ever since then I have been labeled a slut. I have been called every single bad name you can think of. Now ten years later I finally lost the name and it feels as though a major weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. People don't realize just how much a label weighs on a person... and over the years they just kept adding on and on and last year I even attempted suicide... more than once. But I came to the realization that it is not what I have done that has gained me the labels, but what people thought of the acts I have done. They judged me before they knew me (sorry using a Shrek quote here). I was lost in a world where people told me over and over what I was, but in actual fact it is not who I am. I rise above those labels and name calling. I rise out of the ashes of my shed tears and broken spirit. I rise high above them, because I know in my heart that I am not a slut. What happened to me does not define who I am. It does not tell me who I am supposed to be. I know of many girls who go through this, being labeled and name called. We don't deserve it and I just appreciate you speaking out about this. I know now that labels do not define me nor do they set my future. I decide that for myself. - Anika
When I was in 3rd and 4th grade, I had a boyfriend who went to a different school (didn't really matter, wasn't a real relationship). Let's just call him John. After two years of 'dating', I broke up with him. I am going into high school this year. Ever since 4th grade when I ended things, people have been calling me 'John's girl', and telling me to get back together with him so that he and I could f***. This has been ongoing for five years, and he is going to my high school this year, so I am quite scared of how that is going to go. Another 'boyfriend' I had, was in 5th grade. Let's call him 'Will'. He had liked me since 1st grade, so when we finally went out, people would always make fun of me, and say that I was just leading him on, when I actually did like him. They called me names and everything. When I ended things and we went into middle school, we were joined by another group of elementary school kids that I never met before. That first day of school, people I didn't even know the names of would tease me and make fun of me for going out with Will, who was a good kid! I didn't know why people would do that. Every time I would have a thing with another guy, they would practically treat me like a slut and say that I was cheating on Will. One guy moved to our school from Georgia, all the way across the country, and the first thing he said to me was, 'So, you and Will got it on, huh?' I have never even had my first kiss yet! It got so bad that people would text me on unknown numbers saying inappropriate things claiming they were Will, and they would do the same to Will claiming they were me. They would post things on social websites anonymously. Will and I finally talked to the counselor, who said he would give detention to the next person who did it. When people still bullied us and we reported it, he never did anything about it except for once. Once people heard I reported it, I was known as the tattle tale, and goody two shoes. I can't seem to get rid of the reputation I have, which is so dumb because I was 11 when it started. It is still going on, making me quite scared of what will happen in high school. It's better, yes. But still happening. I would like every girl on here to know that you need to report or talk to an adult who is trusted. Sometimes, you can't handle everything on your own, especially, like in my case, when you have a whole school against you. It will get better, though. I am scared for this school year, but am hoping and am optimistic that it will get better. My story may not seem like much compared to others, but it is a form of sexual harassment that is hurtful to me. Stay strong, and stand up against bullying, ladies. - Emily Crose
People often think that rapists are strangers in dark alleys; they aren't. My rapist happened to be one of my closest friends. He felt guilty, not for raping me, but for cheating on his girlfriend, so he told her we had sex. More and more people found out and soon the whole school was calling me a "whore" and a "slut" and tweeting about how disgusting I was. How was I supposed to tell my school full of strangers that I had been raped and didn't deserve the name calling? Victims should never feel more ashamed than the rapist. After being called these names, I realized no girl deserves to feel that way. You never know what she was pressured into or what she didn't agree to; you never know her side of the story. Regardless of if a girl is raped or if she willingly partakes in sexual activity, she doesn't deserve to be called a slut. If a girl wants to have consensual sex, she should be able to without being bullied. - Taylor
There is one specific story, one specific day, that stands out when I try to remember the bullying I had to endure at age 14-16 (oh, do I wish I kept a diary at that age, now). It is not one of the harshest, maybe not one of the scariest, but for some reason it's been stuck in my mind since then... for ten years. It was the day after a night at my friend's house. She had a very open dad, who really didn't care what we did, as long as we didn't do drugs and didn't leave the house, so we loved spending the night there, drinking and whatever. That night a guy, a friend of my friend, had to spend the night there, in the basement where we used to hang out and watch movies... So we started watching a movie, and slowly everyone started to leave, go to bed, go home, etc., so that only he and I were left on the couch. I knew perfectly that he was not interested in me, just bored, I guess, and I really didn't want to do anything, but the last friend to leave told me I HAD to stay, and it was going to be great, so I just went with it. He started reaching under my pants with his hand, and it felt weird. Weird and uncomfortable, until I finally just stood up and left for bed, out of weirdness alone. Still, the next day the rumours were crazy. I remember a guy out of my class actually asking if this guy had fingered me and not denying it. I didn't think I had to, it seemed absurd to lie, especially when everyone was doing it. Still, the rumours kept growing, and as school ended that day and I was waiting for the bus, two boys sat down next to me and started asking about it. The conversation I can't get out of my head went something like this: Boy 1: "So, did you blow him?" Me: "What? No." Boy 2: "Of course not, how could she do that with a bag over her head? And she had to wear one if he dared to finger her." To this day I don't know how I let that conversation affect me so much. I knew those guys were assholes, and the guy who had actually been with me that night didn't react like that at all. He was actually friends with me for a long time after that, and he acted like what we did was completely natural, and okay, and not a big deal (so, he acted like a normal person!), but still. Thinking and hearing that affected every intimate relation I had for a long time, and made me unbelievably insecure for a long time. I had never shared this. With anyone. Not even back then, when I wanted to act like I didn't care. Thank you, I'm glad to realize now that sharing stories like this, putting our names and faces on it, showing people that they can get out of it...it helps. - Ro
I have survived. It has been hard. Let me start at the beginning: I was a happy child of high school sweetheart parents with a happy childhood. I started developing quickly at 11, completely bypassing the training-bra stage and about a foot taller than my classmates. I had frizzy hair, glasses, and a body I didn't know what to do with. I covered myself in baggy T-shirts and pants as much as I could. Partying wasn't in my mind, I did my homework, went to dance class and enjoyed time with my family. School was a torment, teachers loved me, but classmates despised me. One boy, Preston - ugh it still shakes me to this day - filled his sweet time in our math class by slipping his hands across my thighs and 'accidentally' getting good handfuls of my chest all while lowly chanting, "You like that, don't you?" I quietly told him to stop, but I wasn't the type to make a scene and he fully took advantage of that. He liked to whisper about it in the halls to his equally scummy friends when I would walk by.
I did not date until later in high school, the first being a new boy from Arizona who, frankly, I was equally attracted to and scared of, mostly because I had never dated before. He pursued me for an entire school year. I fended off his advances, but his charm finally stuck. He was supposedly a "nice Christian boy," so I after I got my drivers license that summer I went to see him. He told me his parents were home. As he rushed me through his house into his room, I didn't get a chance to see if his parents were absent but I figured they were. I was already feeling put-off. Once in his room he awkwardly sat me on the bed and pushed me down, kissing me. I did want him to like me but I was so disconnected, the innocent kissing quickly turned into his hands down the front of my jeans, which he didn't even bother to unbutton. I lay there completely frozen for what seemed like hours, but it was probably more like 10 minutes. I shot up and out of his house, hopped in my car and went back home, not sure what to do with myself. I was inundated with many angry calls and texts from him telling me to get back there. I finally answered him and said, "No, I'm not comfortable." I cried all night, not sure if what I did was good or bad, maybe I should have stayed, is that what other girls did? It didn't matter. He managed to tell everyone in our circle of friends I was "easy." It escalated from there. Guys were giving me sly grins and girls I had never talked to gave me dirty looks. AIM and MySpace were just beginning and my inbox was full of comments that I deleted left and right. Then and there I chose to never date anyone from my school, quickly changing their harsh comments from "slut" to "tease." Even though it seemed like a lesser term, it still stung. How was I teasing anyone? I started dating an older guy from across town who had already graduated. The slut shaming didn't stop after high school. I went off to college still dating my high school sweetie, but getting restless. I spent my first semester holed up in my dorm room working on art projects. I didn't drink, but I was the unhappy DD most nights for my friends. They berated me and after hearing it for so long I finally said, "Okay." My boyfriend didn't like the fact I was away at college doing God knows what, which ironically wasn't anything at all. So finally I called it quits after 3 years with him during my second semester, and decided to finally have my crazy-college-time. Generally I would wake up in my bed, the sorority couch, or in my car, but there were occasions of waking up next to a male collegiate without his name and my pants either missing or undone and no recollection. This, I assumed, was the "college experience," and for the most part I didn't find it troubling. I had a couple of flings here and there, nothing crazy. One instance, though, will forever haunt me more than the rest. Our annual sorority formal was coming up and I was date-less so the sisters decided to set me up. I knew I could have plenty of fun with just the girls, but they insisted. I met up with him a few days prior to the formal. He picked me up and we went for a drive in his truck and talked for a bit. He seemed cool, but I wasn't really into him. He was quite a bit older, about 33 at the time, back in college after his stint in the military, with thinning hair and a crooked grin. I'm not about stringing guys along but since he seemed genuinely excited to go to the formal, I kept the date. He picked me up in a good mood, from what I could tell. We got there and several of the sisters were already a few drinks in, so they felt I needed to catch up. The night wore on and I didn't manage to drink more than a drink and a half at most, but I was feeling light-headed. We headed to an after party at a frat house and that's where things get hazy. I only mildly recall getting there and nothing about leaving. I woke up in a room I didn't recognize, completely naked, and there he was in the nude lying next to me. I couldn't move for several minutes but when I did, I realized every muscle was sore. I tip-toed to the bathroom in search of my clothes and tried to dress in between getting sick into his toilet. I got out as quietly as I could. It was still in the early morning hours. I went home and quickly tried to put it out of my mind. My grades started slipping, I was drinking every night, slept through most of my classes, and couldn't sleep - pretty much every opposite trait of myself. Finally that summer, I called my parents. I wanted to come home. I hopped around in junior college, still struggling. I also hopped therapists. My first therapist sat me down with my parents and told them about my "alleged rape" and all I could do was cry. I found my third therapist and she completely opened up my thought process. She deals in PDT therapy and works with those dealing with traumatic experiences and she completely helped me save myself. I am now in a successful career as an esthetician, engaged to the most loving and thankful man I have ever met, and I have a bulldog pup that is the light of my life. I still battle demons, but I can tell you IT DOES GET BETTER. - Beth Brasher I still have nightmares. I was 14 when it happened. I had hardly even kissed a boy. It started out like any normal day. I went to school. I remember being in a really good mood. After school, I walked to the park with my "best friend," who was a guy. It was his birthday. We weren't the kind of friends to give each other presents, but what I didn't know is that he expected one. We got to the park and sat at a picnic table near some trees. People passing by couldn't see us unless they looked really hard. But I didn't think about it . He was my best friend . I trusted him. So I went to the park with him alone. For that, I was "asking for it." Then he surprised me: he kissed me. I didn't run away, I didn't stop him. It was only a kiss. He wanted something I wasn't willing to give him. "I'm your best friend, don't you trust me?" He pressured me over and over. I didn't get up and run away. I trusted him. For that, it was "my fault." I said no. Over and over I said no. I was getting ready to go home. I should have gone sooner. And for that, you guessed it. "It was my fault." And so he raped me. Rape. For the longest time, I never used that word. I hated it. I still do. When he was finished, he went to track practice. He didn't understand or care what he had done to me. I walked home, locked myself in my room. The next day at school, nothing seemed different. I went to my classes like normal. I didn't notice people whispering or giving me dirty looks. Then I went to art class, 5th hour. I was trying so hard to not think about the day before. We were drawing animals that day, I think. I heard two girls at the next table fake coughing out the word "Whore." One of them I had known since kindergarten. I looked up and realized they were looking at me. This was the beginning. My "best friend" had told the whole school that I had willingly done a variety of sexual acts with him. And because he was such a nice guy, and well liked, they high-fived him. Patted him on the back. And believed him. But no one high-fived me for what they THOUGHT I had done. I spent the rest of the year being called a whore, slut, anything you can think of. I was the star of half the rumors in that school. I had nightmares, I got anxiety. I finally got up the courage to tell someone. It was my brother, at the same school. He told me it was my fault. I was so relieved when school let out for the summer, because it would all go away and I could move on. But it followed me, online. Anytime someone saw me. There was no escape. I tried to kill myself. It never went away. When I came back for school the next year it was still happening. People I had known for years saw me crying and would say, "It's your fault." Finally, I switched schools. At first, it followed me there. I was hopeless. Then slowly, it went away. But what never went away is the nightmares. The anxiety. Almost every night I see his face in my sleep. I'm about to graduate high school and I sleep with a nightlight, because no matter how much anxiety medicine I take , he's still there. But he hasn't stolen my voice. This is my first time telling my full story. And not my last. The UnSlut Project has given me hope. It isn't my fault. And I am not what happened to me.
In fifth grade I had my first boyfriend (let's call him "A")... We didn't touch or kiss - only held hands once. After two months of dating, we broke up. Then, "A" started spreading rumors about how I kept going over his house and had sex with him and all things related. "A" was a popular boy with a lot of friends, so the false rumors spread quickly. I was labeled the slut and even got in trouble with my parents and the principal! I told them the truth, and "A" got an in-school suspension. The label of me being a slut slowly faded away, and now in sixth grade, I moved from that school and I'm now in a new town with new friends, and still no boyfriend. (I'm too young for it, anyway!) - Samantha
Since "sluts don't get to say no," I didn't even know what had happened until much later.10/11/2019
I'm a 35-year-old woman who still bears the scars from the sexual bullying that I endured for years. I was 12 when it started, long before I had even kissed a boy, and only because I was friends with a lot of guys, and their girlfriends got jealous and hostile. Later people just shared the stories, because that is what you do with gossip. When I finally began to develop it was an overnight thing, one day nada, the next day 36 C, and then people really felt the need to discuss me. The level of rumors that went around stemmed from the relatively normal go-to's of "she's pregnant" or "she cheated" to the completely absurd. I was sexually harassed, sexually assaulted (groped), and even raped, but since "sluts don't get to say no," I didn't even know what had happened until much later. Therefore, when I started talking about it, no one believed me. People also used the story of my rape to further my reputation as a slut, which was re-victimization to a degree that I still don't like thinking about. This went on well past graduation, in fact, when I came home for one of my friend's graduations the year after my own graduation, I was asked by a half dozen people that first day if I was pregnant, because they had heard that I was. I had left home, and they were still talking about me. I stopped coming home to visit, I just couldn't deal with it. My favorite part of the whole ordeal is that people still constantly tell me to "just get over it", like it's no big deal that at the time that I was supposed to be forming my identity, people told vicious lies about my sexual life over and over again, for years, turning me into a pariah! I'd love to ask how you keep that from affecting you? I am stronger for all that I went through, I understand that... However, it has made me hyper-aware of how I'm perceived by others to this day. It isn't that I care about what they think about me or even what they say about me now, and I'm the first person to call out slut-shaming (to the extreme annoyance of everyone that I know), I just can't help but take in the looks and whispers. (I should also share that I had to move back to my hometown recently, bringing it all back to the surface for me, right around the time you started sharing your journals.) The biggest problem for me stems from the fact that it seems like that ugly name follows me without even being said. Men don't want to date me or form a relationship, they only want to sleep with me, and I don't know how to deal with that. It is as if the label permeates to my core, and that scarlet letter glows. Within relatively recent history I have been groped at work, my perceived sex life has been discussed, and I've even been coerced into sexual activity, something that I thought I was past as an adult... What all of this has taught me is that I do not let anyone tell me who I am now. I know that I'm a loyal friend who is intelligent and funny, that I deserve good things from life, and no one can take that away from me. My sexuality is my own, and it is not up for discussion. My history is just that, history, but some of it still stings, as past hurts often do. Unfortunately, it took me a really long time to get there, and there are still times as mentioned above where some of that strength slips from me. Thank you for everything you do! - B
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