The UnSlut Project
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These experiences, shared by people of all genders and backgrounds, demonstrate how the issues of sexual assault, harassment, and "slut" shaming affect our lives. Use this collection to expand your understanding and share it with those who need to know they're not alone.
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SHARE YOUR STORY

Was I about to slut-shame my own daughter?! I took a step back and realized the script I was playing into.

10/10/2019

 
I remember when my daughter received a hickey from her first boyfriend, it was in a very obvious spot on her neck. I was upset, even though I thought I would be a lot "cooler" about her foray into sexual experiences. But I wasn't, I was concerned about what people would say to her, or about her - she was 15 years old. On the tip of my tongue, I remember thinking in my mind, "People are going to think you are a slut!" And then I stopped... was I about to slut-shame my own daughter?! I took a step back and realized the script I was playing into. My daughter was not a slut. She was experimenting with sexual things with her first boyfriend and she hadn't realized that a mark was left. We talked about hickeys and what they are, why people give them and why they receive them, and I was honest about the possible backlash that she could encounter if people noticed that she was beginning sexual activity. And in the context of this very conversation, I talked with her about "slut-shaming" and what it meant to be "a slut" and how these ideas are shaped by the mixed and confusing messages young women receive about being a sexual person in today's society. Even for myself... how hard it was to go against that script when all of a sudden it was my daughter showing the beginning of her sexual self. Thankfully, I used this opportunity to really talk about these issues with her. It was also an eye-opener for me, because I've always thought I'm very open minded about sexuality and feminist issues. But... these things run deep. The best tools against this insidious mental conditioning are education and communication. Kudos to The UnSlut Project for opening up and continuing a dialogue about this issue.

School was torture. My home was torture.

10/10/2019

 
Hi I'm Gisela from Argentina. I suffered not only sexual bullying in my school, but also something very sad at home. When I was 12, there were several boys who liked me, but I was still very innocent so I didn't pay much attention to them. Eventually I fell for a boy... I saw him at school and held hands... We kissed and stuff, but sex was a very distant idea for me. Anyway, by the end of the year, this boy dumped me, and he and his friend from another class started calling me a slut and worse. They called me at my home, and my mom thought I was dating one of them and she started calling me something like a "horny slut", sorry there's no translation from Spanish for the word that she used with me.... So, since I was 12 until I turned 19, my mom treat me like that, I couldn't do anything, not even go to my friends' houses. School was torture.. my home was torture... I think my teen years sucked, but I know that that's the reason I'm a very compassionate person, because I know what is like to be insulted and to be alone. - Gisela

I had decided to stop fighting it. I almost accepted the label they were putting on me. That I was a slut.

10/10/2019

 
My name is Ashley Hooper. I am 15 years old but my slut shame started when I was in middle school. In 6th grade I would constantly change from boyfriend to boyfriend just because I knew I could and that it wouldn't really matter, I mean, it was just 6th grade. But because of that I started hearing every now and then that people were calling me a slut. I didn't think much of it because I had a lot of friends backing me up. But, it really made an impression when my math teacher decided to start in on the "joke" too and made up a math problem about me. Calculating the number of new boyfriends I would have in 8 weeks. But again I just brushed it off and went on. In 7th grade, me and a bunch of my friends joined the track team. Not knowing at the time that one boy I was hoping to avoid my 7th grade year had joined the track team as well. He and I had never been on good terms. During one of our track meets he came up to me and stuck his hand down my shirt in front of everyone. I was so embarrassed. I immediately called my parents and told the track coaches. At that time I still had many friends backing me up. A lot of the other guys on the track team threatened to beat him up for me. In no way at all did I want or hope he would do that to me. I definitely didn't like it. But other people's thoughts remained the same. I was a slut to them. In 8th grade I started falling for the "bad boys." Liking the kind of guys that got drunk and smoked weed as part of their lifestyle. I became a bit envious of their life. Getting to do whatever they want, whenever they want. They influenced me and later that year I found myself at a party. It was two of my best girlfriends and I. All surrounded by quite a few other boys. Though most of them had been drinking and smoking weed, that was one thing I did not partake in. But when it was time for us to go home we let a boy drive us that was under the influence of alcohol and weed. I know it is only by God's grace that we did not get in any kind of wreck that night. News of the party spread quickly around the middle school and high school. Rumors were made up about my friends and me. Nothing we did or said could change their minds. They were sticking with what they heard. We were sluts. I lost a few friends that year.
My freshman year started out pretty good. I had started talking to this guy who was 2 years older than me. He was  very nice, my parents were fond of him and we got to hang out a lot. But for some reason, we didn't think just hanging out on the weekends with our families was enough. So I let him sneak over to my house a couple nights. That was when I lost my virginity. My parents eventually found out and we had to have a talk with my family and my boyfriends family. We stayed together for a while after that but he became very controlling of my life and we broke up just a few days before our 6 month anniversary. A while later I started hearing about all kinds of rumors. That another guy had been telling people that I gave him a blow job in a bathroom after school and that he was going to have sex with me, too. I got asked about it for 2 weeks before it finally became old news. Then I started getting texts from a guy that happened to be best friends with the guy who started the rumor. We met up at a basketball game one night and snuck off and got on a school bus behind the gym. I was a little nervous about being alone with him and was afraid we would get caught. But despite my feelings, I let him talk me into having sex with him right there. He had promised me that he would never spread things about me. But the very next day at school, it started. This time I had decided to stop fighting it. I gave everyone the satisfaction they wanted. I almost accepted the label they were putting on me. That I was a slut. I just went with it. It didn't take long for my parents to find out about that situation and they tried in every way to help guide me.
This year, my 10th grade year, I signed up for a teen living class where we learn about skills and things we can do to better our life. Our teacher had us make a map of our life and write down our "road blocks." So I included everything on mine. Even my sexual mistakes. The boy sitting beside me quickly turned my life into a joke. Up until this very day, he has been calling me a whore, a slut, and saying that I'm easy. He was texting me expecting me to give him blow jobs and do other sexual things with him. But because I had so accepted the label of a slut I didn't just say no. I would send mixed signals because I knew I didn't want to be a slut but I didn't think there was any way possible to change that so I didn't try. But the other night my mom read my text messages and read what had been said. She sent him a message telling him what could happen if he continued this. Today was the first day I saw him in that class since it happened and he never said a word. It almost felt kind of difficult for me to have to ignore him and maintain my distance, but I just kept reminding myself that it was best for me. I would much rather have to ignore someone than have to put up with being called those kind of degrading names. Because now I know that I am NOT a slut.
P.S. My mom watched your interview with Katie Couric and found your site for me. I admire how you were able to overcome what happened to you. You are an inspiration to me. It's nice to know that it is possible to stand up against what people are saying about you and use your experience to help someone else rather than harm yourself.

I had been called a slut and a whore so many times (and knew how much it hurt) that I adopted it, and used it to hurt someone else.

10/10/2019

 
I don't remember how many people called me a slut, or how many times it happened. I do know that, as bad as that made me feel, I now feel even worse for having used that "weapon" against someone else, years ago. I lived in a small, conservative town. I don't even remember when I was first called a slut, or by whom - possibly when I was 12, and my mom found a condom in my then-boyfriend's wallet? He was my first boyfriend, and we did nothing more than kiss and hold hands - I think the condom was more about wishful thinking, or bragging, or something - but he never tried to put pressure on me. My mom forced him to break up with me (I only found this out many years later). She would continue to accuse me of being a slut and a whore for the majority of my teenage years. In high school, I was one of those kids who walks the line between being popular and unpopular. Some people loved me, many more hated me - but for some reason, everyone had a strong opinion about me. Even if I'd tried, I couldn't have slipped under the radar. It didn't help that my parents were supposedly "prominent" figures in the community. I was accused of a sometimes paradoxical set of things during high school: being a slut, a prude, a lesbian, a Satanist. This came from friends, family, my mother (especially), teachers, and other students at my school. Most of my friends were male (I'm female), and living in hostel. At some point, a teacher from the hostel told one of my friends that they shouldn't come visit my house on "town" days anymore, because having a number of boys visiting me regularly made me look like a slut. I had a boyfriend at this point. He supported me then. Years later, long after we'd broken up, he raped me - but that's another story. The thing that bothers me most is that there was another girl in my class whom I tried to shame. She and I detested one another - I'm still not sure why. Some of my friends made a poster pronouncing her "slut of the year," and had me print it. They put it up at school. When it was found (fortunately before many people could see it), I got all the blame. I felt resentful, because my so-called friends shifted all the responsibility to me, and because this girl and I had openly called each other sluts a number or times. A few years later, she and I became friends - we still are. I apologised for my part in the poster. To this day, I am sad that I did that - partly for her, because it was such an incredibly mean thing to, and partly for myself, because I had been called a slut and a whore so many times (and knew how much it hurt) that I adopted it, and used it to hurt someone else. I'm very grateful that the girl and I have been able to make amends since then.

I too was targeted as a school slut, and at first rejected then embraced the role.

10/10/2019

 
I have just read your article in the Guardian UK and it struck a very strong chord. I too was targeted as a school slut, and at first rejected then embraced the role. I too have been fortunate, with no long term ill effects… But I dread the day my daughter may have to face the same, with the hell of new social media which did not thankfully exist in my youth, in the early 90s. Keep up the good work and I will follow your progress. - Tracy

I am 48 and I was a victim of slut shaming starting when I was in 6th grade.

10/10/2019

 
I am 48 and I was a victim of slut shaming starting when I was in 6th grade. My mother had mental health issues and would act out by having sex with men in our hometown… everyone knew except me. I also developed early and was very insecure, so that fueled the fire. Needless to say, I suffered the effects of this “hell” for years; well into my adult life. It has taken me years to recover and develop a healthy self esteem. So many think this is a new trend when actually, it has been going on for generations. I do believe, however, that it is probably worse now because of our society and social networking on the internet. I am so sad to think that so many young girls, with so much potential, have taken their lives because no one listened and no one took action. Parents, it is not just a phase that our children have to endure! Bullying in general will affect your child’s life forever. If they survive, they will carry the scars forever! I am now the mother of a young son, I began early on teaching him that bullying in any way, shape, or form is unacceptable. When he is “of a certain age” he will be told that speaking of young ladies in a derogatory manner is UNACCEPTABLE. To mine and my husband’s delight, our son has intervened in several bullying situations. he is kind and respectful to all people. I want to thank The UnSlut Project for a forum in which to speak openly about my slut shaming. I am here to support your efforts and any young woman who wants to talk. - Carla

My teacher called my mother to tell her that I would likely be pregnant by the end of 5th grade.

10/9/2019

 
I was pretty typically boy crazy in 5th grade - I talked a lot about boys, and “went with” one or two (friends negotiated this, and it typically meant dancing together at school dances, and maybe a little making out in the woods at recess). I was the only girl in my class with boobs at that point, so I got a lot of boy attention, whether I wanted it or not. My 5th grade teacher called my mother to tell her that I would likely be pregnant by the end of 5th grade.

I didn’t even know the meaning of the word slut, but I knew it was really bad.

10/9/2019

 
I’m a couple years older than you, and I was pretty sheltered. Sixth grade was still elementary school and I only knew of one “couple” in seventh grade. I didn’t even know the meaning of the word slut, but I knew it was really bad. One day I was watching a soap opera with my mom (“Days of Our Lives”) and this really conniving character did something super manipulative and antisocial. I said, “I hate Lucas. He’s such a slut!” Then my mom explained it to me. Too bad we can’t easily redefine (and unsex) the word!

I became the school ‘slut’ when I was around 12.

10/9/2019

 
I pushed away two of the most potentially amazing relationships because of my mom’s constant repression of my sexuality (one was a girl) and openness to religion (one was Muslim). I wasn’t 11 when I pushed them away, but the beat-down from my mom got really strong around that time. To get back at her for pushing her beliefs on me, I became the school ‘slut’ when I was around 12. Reading through this is like reading through one of my old diaries, but I feel like I was a lot worse.

My own mother and step brother called me a slut on Facebook

10/9/2019

 
My first slut shame experience was when my own mother and step brother teamed up and called me a slut/whore on Facebook. I would’ve never expected that to happen, and now I decide to educate the people who shame others for their sexual desires.

For me, it was less the comments from my peers and more those of my mother that did the real damage.

10/8/2019

 
This is such a good idea. It’s killing me a little to read your diary entries but it’s also so important that this get out there. I remember the casual ‘slut’ comments in middle school and high school and how its use at a well-chosen moment could just destroy the girl being targeted. For me, though, it was less the comments from my peers and more those of my mother that did the real damage. It got better, but damn I wish someone had told me it would. You are doing an awesome thing.
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