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This year in school, I'm in 8th grade, they've branded a 7th grader with the name "The Thot Of The School". They say nasty and hateful things about her and they've started rumors about her. They've said that she's sent nudes out to boys she had recently just started dating and that she's given someone an oral in public. I know people who WERE her friends, now that they've heard she was the 'thot' or slut of the school, they go along with it and she now has fake friends who talk shit about her. It's bullshit how people decide to do this to people. Even if they don't know if it's true or not, they go along.
This was my life through all of 7th and 8th grades, back in 1982-1984 there was no name for it. I was a slut, a whore and a lesbian all before I had even kissed a boy - forget about the bases. All because I "blossomed" in puberty, far out pacing the other girls in the bra department. Sadly I don't think those other students will ever realize the amount of stupidity they displayed by using what were using opposing/conflicting slurs. She does everyone, she only does it for money, and she only does it with women. OK, morons, why don't you pick ONE and stick with it. To this day I have a very cynical outlook when it comes to people's behavior. Observed or unobserved, online or in person, I am disgusted by the other beings calling themselves "human". I have never been ashamed of my sexuality, even when I did finally find it. - K.H.
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
We forget that emotional stresses and traumas related to feelings of shame, or guilt, can often have physical consequences that are very real, and detrimental to our health, sexually, and otherwise.
Growing up, sex was treated as a dirty word in our household. There was no particular reason for this, other than the fact that I grew up with a parental figure who held to old-fashioned notions of what was appropriate or acceptable. Certain subjects were taboo, and sex, or anything having to do with sexuality was definitely taboo. As a result, there were never any conversations about what to do, or not do, or how to deal with the changes that one deals with in going through adolescence. When sex education began in 5th grade, I brought materials home that were deemed to be completely inappropriate and thrown away. As a result I felt ashamed that I was even being subjected to such information at school, but at the same time relieved that I was learning something about this mysterious aspect of human life. When I was fifteen, I remember watching a nightly news show with my family when there was a guest speaker brought in for an interview who was a sexual expert. She was discussing various aspects related to sexuality that were often misunderstood, one of which was masturbation. I was immediately told by my parent how what I had just heard I should forget about completely, and the only thing I should remember is that masturbation was a bad thing and I should never do it. When I was sixteen the blockbuster movie Titanic came out. I went to see it with my family, and was asked to cover my eyes every time there was a scene of a sexual nature. I had to leave the room whenever we watched a movie and anyone started kissing. I felt embarrassed, and confused as to why this obviously natural part of life was something that I couldn’t be allowed to experience in any way, even as a spectator. I lived a very sheltered life, and was homeschooled for a portion of my middle school and high school years, and had a practically non-existent social life until I was in college. When I was nineteen, I was still living at home, but attending a community college full-time. I finally had my first boyfriend and my first kiss. When we started dating seriously, and the relationship became sexual, and my family found out, I was accosted with screaming fits and called a “slut.” When birth control pills were found in my dresser drawer, I was subjected to looks of great disapproval for even possessing something like that. And I overheard a phone conversation where a family friend said, "If she were in my home and had done that, she would be kicked out." I was an outstanding student - straight A's, honor's list, and ultimately graduated summa cum laude, while working full-time all the way through school. I reasoned with myself that I should disregard the disapproval I was receiving, and the shaming I was experiencing, because I really was a "good kid." I was a hard-worker, and not falling into a life of depravity, simply because I had a boyfriend and was sexually active. Even though I could reason logically, it was hard to completely dismiss the nagging voice inside that was recalling everything I had heard growing up that was telling me I must be doing something wrong. I must actually be a bad person, and a slutty woman. Over the years, when I realized that I wasn’t going to get any sexual education from my family, I had tried to educate myself through reading, even if it was a romance novel I found in the bookstore, or research I did online. By the time I was an adult, I felt that I was strong enough to overcome the years of sexual shaming I had experienced, and was determined not to let it govern my life moving forward. Even so, I was filled with a lot of internal confusion, and ingrained subconscious shame about being sexual. So when I was called a slut at age nineteen, it hurt deeply. Years of repressed sexuality, and unintentional shaming from someone who loved me and thought they were doing what was right did take a toll. It has taken years for me to work through subconscious psychological issues that have also resulted in physical manifestations in my body. We forget that emotional stresses and traumas related to feelings of shame, or guilt, can often have physical consequences that are very real, and detrimental to our health, sexually, and otherwise. It’s so important for our society to have an open dialogue about this topic, because often sexual bullying doesn’t even come from external society – it can start right in our own homes, with our own family, because parents don’t understand how to approach a topic that should be as natural as any other aspect of growing up. Anyone who has a need to call a female who is younger than 18 a slut has problems. I've had my own personal experiences with wrongful slut shaming. The first time was when I was 11, in 5th grade. A girl called me a slut for not having a boyfriend (obviously she needs to go find out what it actually means) and for the next few years I was pressured into thinking not having a boyfriend was bad. In 6th grade, I was deemed a slut by my ex-boyfriend for wearing a pair of shorts that reached mid-thigh. The most recent one, in 8th grade, was cursed at me from a fellow female who was jealous that I could be simple friends with a group of guys and claimed that I was secretly planning on seducing them with witchcraft (someone really needs to lay off those fictional romance novels). I dealt with them with a mixture of telling my mom (sometimes it's awkward telling your dad or your 40 year old male principal) and getting support from my friends, both male and female. I would just like to say that calling someone a slut is always hurtful, no matter your age or the situation it is being used in. If anyone ever feels uncomfortable, say it. Don't keep those thoughts to yourself- otherwise you'll start believing in them. - Myra Sangster
Though I myself have never been called a slut, I have witnessed the pain and developing insecurities of friends that have been called one. In middle school, back then I had a friend that went out with many boys every month. Though no effects appeared right away, she became bitter and lost control over her actions with boys, making it worse. I have one thing to say about girls who have been called a slut - It's just a word that other people say, usually not meaning it, to take you down. They only want to take you down because you're high above them.
The shift from elementary school to middle school can be very traumatic. Girls can be very mean, especially girls in Junior High. I was twelve years old and kind of a loner. I became friends with this girl Lisa who was confident and dressed in fun, flamboyant clothing. We had a blast expressing ourselves though our clothing. We loved Hollywood, bright colors, vintage & leopard print, we also loved feathers and glitter. Neither of us had breasts so there wasn't any cleavage involved. We didn't pay attention to boys because we were too busy having too much fun. We were unique and I guess people didn't like that. The first comments we heard were that we were lesbians. This was in 1973 during a time when people were very closeted. Then another group started spreading a rumor that we were sluts and whores. The truth of the matter is that neither of us had ever even kissed a guy and we had no interest in each other like that. Lisa left that school the next year. We continued to be friends (and still are). I remember feeling very isolated and out of place. I continued at that school for two more years. I was very depressed. I wrote poems, I remember part of one: "they treat me like I'm from Mars but, I'm not! I'm human, I have feelings too." I used to think about ways that I could kill myself. Luckily, I was never successful. I had very low self esteem and nervous ticks. My mom took me to a therapist who prescribed Valium. This label of "slut" stuck with me internally and later in my life, I was free with my body. I was looking for love but at times I was used. It took me many years to battle my depression and low self-esteem. I am 54 now and I can honestly say, I've managed to heal myself. I am a strong woman and I no longer have negative self talk. This is a terrible thing that children do to each other. My daughter was bullied this way too but, together we worked through it and she is a strong, happy and successful woman. - Cynthia
I'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
Unfortunately I have several stories of sexual harassment, abuse and assault. I was sexualized as a young girl, where people would comment on how cute my figure was, even before puberty, before any development. In Jr. high I was constantly referred to as "the wall" for not having developed larger breasts, by one particular boy. I am sure there were others as well. I will never forget him or his name. On Halloween in his neighborhood he cornered me and sprayed shaving cream up my skirt. I was bullied by two eighth grade girls because I wore high heeled shoes and threatened with beating me up. In 8th grade I went from being popular to being an outcast for becoming friends with a boy who broke up with his girlfriend and began paying attention to me. I had never been kissed. All of my friends turned against me, calling me a slut. I was threatened again with beating me up. I turned to alcohol and drugs, partying. I was assaulted many times while too intoxicated to physically stop what was happening to me or not knowing what I was doing. Photographs were taken while I was held down, too drunk to resist. This was before cell phones or the internet, thank goodness. I attempted suicide twice. I got sober, got help, got better - but this is when I began to remember all the assaults. I didn't even know that is what they were until years later. Now, I am a counselor. We must share our stories with young women, to know they are not alone. We can make a difference in the world and help one another. No one should have to be pushed to end their lives by bullies or perpetrators. Thank you for this project, for your courage and allowing me to share my story. - Kate G.
I still struggle with some things today, but have kept up the fight to make myself stronger.10/17/2019
I'm not sure when or how it started, but I do remember that I was bullied and outcast in a small school. I think I was in 3rd or 4th grade when the tag "Slut" was placed on me and I would hear people laughing and talking about me and calling me a slut. I went through the rest of that school and into high school with that label, amongst many others. I had to fight back and I made the same kind of comments to others to get them to stop. But what they don't know is during that time in high school I was suicidal and became a cutter. I showed up with a "happy" smile, hoping I was able to hide the hurt but wishing I could die almost everyday. I still struggle with some things today, but have kept up the fight to make myself stronger and to better myself for myself and not anyone else. And I am finally getting a tatoo worthy of covering my scars from when I cut. A Phoenix rising from the ashes as I have risen above the pain and hurt of my past. - Jennifer Collins
As a seventh grader and a new kid in my school, I was labeled "slut" for not liking a boy back. I had not even had my first kiss. The bullying seriously impacted my desire to go to school and interact with my peers. In high school I was broken up with and labeled a "prude" for not wanting anything to go beyond kissing. I was afraid of being called a slut and still I was made fun of for another reason! A group of adults also labeled me a slut for being closer with the boys on a leadership council. Adults!!!! I cried for weeks. As a freshman in college, I was drugged at a party, brought back to a senior's apartment, and raped. The only person I tried to tell called me a slut. I struggled alone for 5 years until I had the courage to talk about it with my best friend and mom. The word "slut" has seriously impacted my life. I am now a middle school teacher who is committed to stopping bullying and finding ways to make kids feel great about themselves. - Catherine
When I was 11 years old and in 6th grade, I had my first real boyfriend. It was very innocent between us, just holding hands and kissing. One day, my boyfriend was hanging out with some older boys and they asked him if we had had sex and he just laughed, but never denied that we hadn't. Well, word spread fast that I was no longer a virgin and it didn't help that when an 8th grader asked my best friend if I was a virgin, she responded, "I don't know", which was taken to mean that I wasn't. I remember hearing older kids refer to me as a slut or "hooker" when I was around them. I will never forget walking down the hall by myself to go to the restroom during class time and the 8th grade girls were working on a project in the hall. I thought about turning back but I knew that they saw me and I really had to go pee. As I approached them, I avoided all eye contact and looked straight ahead because I could feel my fear about to turn into tears at any moment. As I passed them, I could hear each of them call me "hooker" and "slut" with an emphasize on the "t". I could feel the lump in my throat about to burst and I did all I could to make it to the bathroom before the tears started to flow. I stood in that bathroom until they left. I had to tell my teacher why I took so long in the bathroom and started to cry. I remember she yelled at my boyfriend and my brother because my brother was part of the 8th grade class that was calling me names and he said nothing to defend me. I never understood why my boyfriend or best friend would allow people to think I was sexually active. I hate those 8th grade girls to this day and was so happy to see them graduate...from Catholic School.
When I was 11, I started to experiment with make-up at school due to the images of females I grew up with by watching movies, TV and reading in magazines. It started with a little dab of eye shadow, some lip gloss and wearing a tank top (in the summer). I was quickly called a slut and a whore; yet I had never even kissed a boy! Let me tell you, it was confusing and hurtful for my 11 year old self to put together. Kids can be incredibly mean, nasty and terrorizing. I was simply a preteen wearing things I saw on TV and in magazines, yet I was shamed, humiliated and degraded by my peers. It was also my first taste to cyber-bullying back in 2000 with nasty, and threatening e-mails from an e-mail '[email protected]', I still remember how scared, shocked and hurt I was and how the 'lead' bully called me a 'horr' because she could not properly spell whore. These experiences have turned me into an advocate against bullying. In university I volunteered for a on-campus group and taught an in-school children's conflict resolution and anti-bullying group and I also mentored a group of at risk preteens in an after-school program. - Laura Scott
I was called a slut when I was just 12 years old. The girl was mean and brutal and recruited more mean and brutal girls in her plight to break me down. This continued through junior high and most of high school. Daily these girls would corner me and do things like slam my head into the water fountain as I was drinking or body slam me as I walked past them in the hall, head down praying for God to just make me invisible. They were relentless. It was every single day. Not a day went by that they didn't in some way brutalize me and humiliate me in front of everyone. I went running out of classes crying and I would end up being the one in trouble for leaving class. I didn't understand why the adults in charge couldn't see what was happening. They down played it and convinced themselves that "kids will be kids," like it was some kind of rite of passage that everyone goes through. It made every single day dark and heavy and uphill. My grades slipped, I didn't want to go to school, I would skip if I had a chance. And the thing about it is that when this bullying began, I was not a "slut." Not even close. In fact, I was a virgin.
But the result was devastating, though. I became a "slut." I wasn't having sex with everybody, but damn close. If a boy wanted to put his hand up my shirt, I would let him. If he wanted to put his hand down my pants, sure, why not? I know now that what I really wanted was the love and respect of someone, anyone, but I just didn't know how to go about getting that. I thought if I let them put their hand up my shirt then they would give me what I needed. Then when I was 16 I made the fateful decision to sneak out of the house to go hang out with a much older boy, who was actually in his early 30's. At the time that didn't seem disturbing to me at all. I had no idea of the sinister plan that "Bobby" had for me that night. He was going to carry out his end game with or without my consent. That night I was raped. That was the beginning of the end for me. I developed a heroin habit that stayed with me for 17 years. Fast forward and I was released from prison on February 27, 2011. Since then I have been clean & sober for 5 years and have grown exponentially. I wish I could walk into every junior high, every high school, and into every insecure young girl's life and make them see their value. I wish I could make them know that they are worth so much more and that there is so much more to life than that moment and those few years. I wish I could teach them to hold their heads up high when they walk. I wish I could tell them that if they don't want to give their bodies away, they don't have to. I wish I could tell them that the problem is with the girls calling them a slut and not with them. I wish I could prevent those deep psychological wounds from ever being gashed wide open. I know they are hurting, I know they cry alone, I know they sometimes think about ending it all because they can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. I can still vividly recall those feelings as if it were yesterday. Pain and torment like that doesn't ever seem to truly go away, or at least the memory of it doesn't. I don't know why girls make the decision to be cruel but I know that teenage girls can be some of the cruelest creatures on earth. If I could say anything to the girls of the world that suffer the bullying and slut shaming the way I did, it would be to tell them how beautiful they are and that it's okay to talk about what's happening to you. Talk about it to anyone who will listen. Take the power away from the bully. Tell your parents, tell your teachers, tell your principals, tell your friends. Tell someone, anyone. It doesn't make you uncool to tell, it makes you empowered. It sends a message that you will not stand for this treatment and sets the tone for how people will treat you for the rest of your life. You are worth so much more. Does the world really see me, the girl who hasn't even had a first kiss at 14, as a slut?10/17/2019
At my school a lot of the girls wear shorts and tank tops. Some people I know would call them sluts including my best friend. I personally didn't care, so I never gave it much thought till eighth grade summer, me and my friends were all going to different high schools, and I started wearing spaghetti strap shirts, and thought corset shirts were cool as long as they didn't show your breast line. I always hated shorts, but I started liking boots with heels. My best friend considers girls with heels and corset tops sluts, which is why I'm afraid of wearing heels and corset tops, because I don't want to be called a slut. I also tried shorts and they were quite comfortable. The reason I like these clothes is because they're comfortable, not to show my body. As a matter of fact I feel uncomfortable showing skin, and have worn jeans 90% of my life. I have very little self confidence, and am trying to become confident. And whenever I wear tank tops my friends' eyes widen like if it's wrong. Are they being too uptight, or does the world really see me, the girl who hasn't even had a first kiss at 14, as a slut? Like seriously I haven't even had my first boyfriend.
What's going to happen when the whole school knows? I'm going to be the new slut in school.10/17/2019
This might seem crazy but I'm pretty sure my life's is going to get much worse. There was a boy in my class, we were friends. Then he started saying "Can touch your thighs". I being the dumb ass that I am said yes after a while of saying no. I think about a couple days later he asked me for nudes. At first I said no. Then he started to get annoying. I said yes at the end. I feel so stupid. Three or five days later, the whole class knew. I remember feeling so stupid and worthless. I wanted to kill myself. People didn't talk to me. I was happy I got braces, because it gave me an excuse to not be at school. Saturday, Sunday, Monday I was thinking of suicide. Tuesday was no school. I got 12 different pills, a cup filled with water, and drank it. I was praying I was gonna be dead. I swear I wished I could be dead. I didn't really have friends. I ended up getting real friends. Guys. All the girls in my class are bitchy, fake ass people. Apparently, I thought too soon that everything was over. Some people were finding out very slowly. Today, I guess my guy best friend knows everything. He probably thinks I'm a slut. These other 3 people were asking me who I liked. I already know what to expect. They fucking know. They know and I have a feeling that they're gonna tell everyone. I'm fucking pissed, depressed, emotional. Suicidal. Hell, my best friend is ignoring me. What happened to best friends till we die? Apparently she has new friends. A new life. What's gonna happen. Today at gym one of my guy friends told me someone on his football team said, "I heard a girl in your class sent nudes, I've seen her and I don't have the nudes. I need them in my phone." I'm pretty sure as hell everyone at school is going to know. What's going to happen when the whole school knows? I'm going to be the new slut in school. I'm practically worthless right now. I got my phone taken away. What am I supposed to do now? Just wait for it to get worse. A new kid is coming to my class next Tuesday. I already know the FUCKING BOY IS GONNA TELL HIM/HER. I want to fucking destroy him. But I can't. I don't even know what to do. I pray and hope everything gets better. I'm sorry if this is long but I needed to tell someone about this whole shitty situation and not be ashamed of myself. - Xenia Note to the author: I don't have your contact information, so please reach out to a parent or teacher for help immediately. You are NOT alone, and this is NOT your fault. You can overcome it, just like the women who have shared their stories here before you. Please call 1-800-273-8255. I am always here to talk, as well. Love, Emily.
The most popular girl in the eighth grade at my school has lost almost everything except for her friends, and the only reason they stay is because she's pretty and they "look up to her". They basically wish they had her confidence. She can fake a smile, pretty well, too. But I know she hurts. She must. Everyone in school has been spreading rumors and calling her hideous names. And almost every popular eighth grade guy in the city has seen her nudes. People call her a slut because she has had a lot of different boyfriends. It's gone to the point where people are saying her sixth grade sister has nudes also and sleeps around with ninth graders! At this point, every person in the seventh grade has called her a slut, and some seventh grade boys are beginning to get the pictures sent to them. The office has already found the pictures and tried to stop this, but boys have just been sending them out anonymously and no one will tell on them. They are the most popular boys in school, and who wants to be known as a narc? I wish I could help her, but she only opens up to popular girls. She should know about this site. She should know she's not alone.
Last year, I witnessed two cases of sexual bullying and slut shaming. The first case was around February when a girl who used to study in the same school as me and my friends sent a video of her taking her clothes off to her boyfriend who would later break up with her and spread the video all around our community. Soon enough, all kids from all private schools in the city had the video. I knew it was all wrong. That was her body, not ours and if she wanted to share a video with her boyfriend it was perfectly okay. Sadly, not everyone was as open minded about the video as I was. Despite the fact that the girl was not my friend, I felt the urge to help her. Of course, then I did not know that by sharing the video and posting it on Facebook and many other websites they were guilty for spreading child pornography. Still, I wanted to help her but, sadly, I never got the chance to because I closed my Facebook account and I had no way to contact her in any way whatsoever. The other case happened around May. My friend (let's call her Annie) exchanged sexts with a guy from her classroom (let's call him Eric) and he asked for pictures of her boobs over the bra in exchange for dick pics, but what she didn't know was that she was tricked. His nudes were fake while hers were real. Annie had been sexually bullied for a while because she was D cup and had a conventionally hot body. When she sent the boob pics, the guy she sent them to sent them to a friend who sent them to another two friends and so it goes on. The bullying started on social media. People were starting to send her degrading messages and, later, they started sexually harassing her. I tried to help in every way possible. Since she is my friend, I could easily contact her so I started sending her anonymous messages of hope. Now we're all in eighth grade and she was still recovering. Everything seemed to be all right with her, except it was not. I checked her ask.fm to get a little hint of what was happening. Someone had sent her a message that said "Send me a picture of your big ass." I was immediately disgusted by it and I wanted to throw that person off a cliff, sadly, ask.fm is and will remain to be anonymous. The next day, she shocked me with something even worse than that. Turns out one of the guys in Eric's gang decided that it was a good idea to pinch her butt without her consent. I was upset and I wanted to report it but she told me that it didn't matter because she was used to it. It is sad to see that my generation is just as rotten as any other generation.
I finally came out and told my mom. She asked why I waited all this time if it happened in late October. I told her I was scared. The next day we tried to press charges, but the police officer practically laughed in my face because I waited so long.
When I was 13 years old, I agreed to go out with a pretty popular boy at school. He seemed like, at the time, the most perfect boy ever, so I felt like I was "forever in debt" almost to him. About 2-3 months into the relationship (so about March or April of 2011) he started to become more and more controlling and started resorting to violence, which I kept telling myself many of the famous excuses, because I didn't want to believe he was doing this: "It was a one time thing..." or later one "I made him angry, so I deserved it.." and many others. By September, I began hearing rumors about him going after other girls (at this point we were no longer in the same school. I was in middle school, 8th grade, and he had moved to the high school, 9th grade) and trying to make sexual advances towards them. He then also began making the same advances towards me, but I blew it off. I was 13, he had just turned 15. I didn't know what that was all about, I believed sex was just kissing and stuff for people who were married, like I was tough being raised Catholic. He seemed to have calmed down for a couple of weeks, no more hitting, no more talking bad about me, and no more "dirty talk". He asked me if I wanted to go to the Homecoming game and dance. Well, of course I said yes. Homecoming and football in general is really big in Texas. Well, when the day of the game rolled around I went over to his house and he had his grandmother help pin a mum his mom made to my shirt. I didn't think anything bad would happen ever again. But when we got to the game, we sat my aunt on the left, me in the middle and him to my right. He started touching me in ways I knew weren't okay, but every time I tried to pull away, he'd tighten his grip on my wrist. After what felt like forever, my aunt said her son was getting tired and cold, so she was going to take us home. I had never felt so relieved, but I never told anyone. I knew that with how I ranked on the social- scale of the Texas City middle school/high school, 1) no one would believe me, and 2) he'd turn it around to make me look like a slut. So, I did the next best thing (well, what I thought was the next best thing). I tried to fake being sick to get out of the dance, but my mom told me, "Come on, Liz. I can tell he really likes you and would be heart broken if you didn't go." So reluctantly, I went. When we got there he immediately found his group of friends and started making sexual comments about them and me. "Wow your girlfriend's so pretty. You're lucky to have her," one said. He laughed and said, "Damn right I am. Just look at her tits!" (I immediately crossed my arms in an attempt to hide them, because I was extremely self-conscious about them, since I was 13 and a 36D.) Long story short, after attempting to make a move on some other girls, he suggested we leave and walk around the area for a bit. Of course, me not wanting any trouble, agreed to go along. So we sneak out the back door, and start walking along the side of the building, towards the front. He suddenly stopped and forced me against the wall, and started running his hands up my shirt. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't. I started to scream because I was scared, I didn't know what was happening, only that I was terrified, and he bit me. Hard. And covered my mouth and very forcefully whispered, "Shut up." And then he raped me... It happened pretty quick, he didn't want to get caught. And when he decided he was done, he told me to fix my skirt, and he pulled me up. He tightened his grip on my wrist and told me to stop crying like a baby. I wiped my face on my shirt and he walked us to his grandmother's car. His GRANDMOTHER'S car. And when she asked how it went, he said "It went great. It really was the perfect night." I started feeling sick all the time, faking sick to get out of school, and just doing everything to avoid people. One day about 2-3 weeks later, my parents had a meeting with the local pastor, and he found out I'd been "sick" and decided to pay me a visit. I opened the door and told him my parents weren't home, that I would be ok and he couldn't stay. I tried to close the door but of course, me being the naive "kid" I was, when he said wait, I opened it again, and let him in. He played it real cool, acting genuinely concerned, but then he flipped and attacked again. When he finished, he said, "Oh, by the way, my mom doesn't want me seeing you anymore. So, this is goodbye." That was the day I started cutting, not to die at first. I ended up in Deveruex, the local inpatient facility for teens who are violent, suicidal, cutting or off their psych meds. I asked hypothetical questions about rape and rapists, but no one caught on, nor did I say anything. I still loved him, and I thought he still loved me, and just didn't want his mom to be mad. I was put in Deveruex in early November 2011, but I was out before my birthday on the 14th. I expected him to call, or message me or something, but I got nothing. I went into Deveruex two more times between December 2011 and February 2012. February 4th or so I finally came out and told my mom. She asked why I waited all this time if it happened in late October. I told her I was scared. The next day we tried to press charges, but the police officer practically laughed in my face because I waited so long, but the reaction from school was a lot worse. I had to drop to home school for the rest of 8th grade. I attempted public school again the next year, but after 2 1/2 months of verbal, mental and physical abuse by fellow students, I eventually went to homebound (teacher came to me), then the principal said "I can't keep you on homebound, and I can't do anything about the abuse. Come back or drop out." So I went back to home school. Then I went to the Connections Academy (online school; 10th), now I'm in K-12's online school (11th grade, yay!) and I'm doing so much better. I FINALLY found a guy worth something (not in it for anything sexual) and we've been together 1 year, 2 years on July 10th, I am doing everything I possibly can do as a 17 year old to educate girls about the dangers of controlling relationships and sexual abuse. I hope maybe someone (or many someones!) will hear my story, and it will help them. Your site and project give me hope <3 - Elizabeth 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.
Luckily I had my one friend to get me through it. Truth is, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her.10/15/2019
I remember being a happy little kid. I was an only child and spoiled rotten. There weren't any kids around so it got really lonely. My only friends at the time were animals. I remember the first day of school was so exciting because I thought of all the friends I'd make. I was really nice and I put on my best smile. But I guess going to a school where 99% of the school is white and you're mixed it's a bad thing. I didn't really know what I did to deserve being made fun of and picked on. I always blamed myself, like it was something I'd done. They would call me 'ugly' and 'fat' and after a while I believed it. Through my whole elementary years I was picked on, even when we moved. When my sister was born my mom neglected us, then abandoned us. We moved to another state but at the age of seven I had already tried suicide a couple of times. I also started to overeat with the depression I was in. In 6th grade I made my first friend and in 7th grade I made another. In 8th grade I got my first boyfriend and thought I was in love. I couldn't believe it because I was fat and in the band, and he was cute and on the football team. I thought I was in love but I was blind. He was a jerk and he cheated on me multiple times. I cried many times because of him. What makes it worse is that he started messing around with my 6th grade friend, who was a very fake friend. I almost committed suicide. Luckily I had my one friend to get me through it. Truth is, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. Now in my 10th grade year of high school, I am grateful for her because if it wasn't for her I wouldn't have seen how beautiful life is. What I learned is to not listen to what they say. Whether it's family, kids at school, relationships, friendships, or yourself, don't listen. Fuck them and live your own life. Because I listened and believed it, I now have a weight problem and depression. Don't be like me, block them out and do you.
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.
I'm only 16 now, and I still have a ton to learn about life, but I think I've learned all that there is to learn about sexual harassment. So far, I've grown up in a broken household. My father came to the table with a child that he had already had at 16. My parents divorced when I was three, six months after having my little brother, and cannot for the life of them get along. Through me, they would try to regain power over one another. I was the victim of my parents' divorce. Now, I know, they both thought they were doing the right thing. Mother protected me from father and father protected me from mother, but that doesn't justify your actions. My mother met a man who ended up being a terrible alcoholic. My youngest brother was a product of that disaster of a relationship. My father however, remarried. And then divorced. And recently remarried again. I have no problem with my new stepmother. It's just... I don't... know her. She kind of showed up one day. Growing up so far, I've been pretty artsy. And when I wanted the sketch book and art kit set, my brother got it for his birthday. When I told everyone I was going to grow up to go to Julliard School of Acting, my mother told me it wasn't enough. I never ended up taking the classes I wanted to. My older brother has never been around much. When he was 17, and I was 9, I met his girlfriend. She was naked in his bed. It didn't really bother me much. On Christmas of my 7th grade year, I ended up going out with a boy who, for all intents and purposes, will be named Leo. He was really nice to me, and I lied to my mother about where I was going to be so that I could go to his house and just make out. But he really wanted more. There were several occasions where he would try to rip my shirt off, or touch my boobs or get into my pants. Mind you, I was 11 years old. I was scared out of my mind. He would show up at my house and take me back to his, or tie me to his bed and try to rape me. Thank god he never did, but he hurt me pretty bad. When I would refuse to put out, he would slap me. Or grab me so hard it would leave hand prints, pull my hair, and he had even broken several bones in my fingers and fractured my ribs. I thought that was what men expected. Sex. And only sex. I wish someone had told me differently. I think it was because of him that I ended up self harming and doing a lot of drugs. No fear, I have gotten help for it. (However, anyone experiencing feelings of depression or thoughts of suicide or self harm, please contact a suicide hotline or tell a trusted adult and get help.) When I finally got the guts to tell him to "fuck off" a year and a half of this torture later, I had already cheated on him several times. And I never held a solid relationship after that. I had many "hook ups," but never a boyfriend. This got me the name "slut." Or "whore." Everyone had their theory, that I paid for it. That they paid for me. And so on. Just after I broke up with him, I started basically living with another guy at 12 years old, who started doing the same thing that Leo did to me. I don't know why I never told anybody. By the time it was too late to do anything about it, I told a school guidance counselor. I went under intensive therapy for 3 years, and I'm still going through some flashback moments. My very best friend had broken up with his girlfriend at the end of ninth grade. And two days later, he kissed me. I felt really bad because his now ex-girlfriend was my best friend, too. So I told her and she was cool with it. She even told me to go out with him. I did, but I wanted her to know that it if she wanted me to break up with him, I would. A week later every single friend that I might've once had or would've had, disappeared. She told them lies about me. I tried really hard to make it up to them, whatever I had done wrong. But they wouldn't buy anything I tried to say. They even tried to get me to kill myself by sending me nasty messages on Facebook and asking me if I would please, ever so kindly go kill myself because nobody wants a whore around to ruin people's lives. I ended up going to intensive therapy for that, too. Me and the girl have since "made up," but I don't think that we could ever be the same. I've not had a friend in almost two years, and I'm still dating her ex-boyfriend. He knows the story and is very understanding when it comes to my fear of guys and anger in general. I still flinch when someone moves too fast, and it's kind of upsetting. I think it shaped me to be the person that I am today. However horrible the experience, I've made it through and am still working through it. I think I may be for the rest of my life. I just wanted to share my story for the younger girls out there.
Boys started to come up to her and touch her boobs and butt, one even touched her crotch.10/15/2019
Slut-shaming is wrong. Wrong. And being harassed or made to feel uncomfortable about being a woman, about being yourself, is wrong. When immature little boys at my school do it, I get angry. I tell them that, too. My story starts with a girl who is in fact my best friend (let's call her Mia) and she is a beautiful, down to earth person. She is loved by everyone, is popular, and is smart, and gets good grades. One day there was this party and Mia went to it (Mia and I weren't friends until a bit later. I am only in eighth grade, and she is too. And this was two years ago. She arrived and was greeted by her friends and stuff. Immediately, word got out that Mia had arrived, and that wow, her boobs looked incredibly large in that tank top. She laughed and shrugged it off. It got worse. Boys started to come up to her and touch her boobs and butt, one even touched her crotch. People started to try and pull her clothes off, and soon all of the popular people were crowded around Mia. I was at this party and I tried to stop it, but I am ashamed to say, I was called a bitch by someone and decided to go home. Mia was harrased further and eventually ran out of the house in her bra, crying. On the next Monday, Mia was told that her best friend at the time had put all of the popular boys up to it because apparently, Mia had tried to have sex with her boyfriend. Of course this wasn't true. Mia was branded a slut and a whore that apparently slept with 2 guys. She was harassed for having larger boobs than the other girls, having large thighs, butt, etc. Mia soldiered on, head held high through this mess and didn't show anyone that it bothered her. She ditched those girls and came to my group and is now the happiest girl I know. She told her Mum and the principal, and those children were suspended. It really helped. If you are slut-shamed don't be afraid to tell someone. Anyone. Because you are not alone, and people are always there for you no matter what.
In the 4th grade, this girl said to someone that I was "a lesbian and tried to rape her."10/15/2019
"Slut": a four letter word with such meaning. A four letter word that has made people commit suicide. A four letter word used as a label for girls with an open sexual life, or just a girl who nodded at a boy who wore something "sexual" once. I'm Emma, and this is my story. It started in kindergarten. One of the older boys, by at least 7 years, molested me. At first, I didn't know what was going on, but then, it hurt. This went on till 2nd grade. He moved away. In the second grade, I was always the chubby kid. I was the "teacher's pet". One day a 5th grader pushed me down and called me fat and worthless. I started cutting, and it just made things worse. In the 4th grade, this girl said to someone that I was "a lesbian and tried to rape her." I mean, seriously?! I got so much hate after that. I tried to commit suicide. But after I failed, things got much better. I changed schools, got new friends, and even a boyfriend! I want to let you know that it does get better! Please do not kill yourself. You are beautiful! - Emma
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