|
Whenever anyone innocently asks, “When was your first kiss?” I make up a story or deflect and change the subject. I will forever remember my first kiss as being non-consensual, humiliating, and traumatizing. It was an experience that shaped how I would view men and relationships for a long time. I didn't realize what had happened until I graduated high school. I thought it was normal and that it didn't count because I wasn’t raped, no one who watched protested it, he was a friend, and I was wearing a Halloween costume with heels. I was only 14 and it was my first Halloween party at a friend's house. Unknown to me, she invited my recent ex-boyfriend who I had broken up with after he cheated on me because I would not be intimate with him in any way. The night was over and I went into her room to change into comfortable clothes. While changing, he banged on the door commanding it be opened so he can see me while I changed. I locked myself in the closet as my girlfriends held the door closed. He backed off after being unsuccessful and I proceeded to lay on her bed and relax since I was sleeping over. Some people who hadn't left came in, some were older and smoking or drinking. We all just sat around talking and relaxing. My ex came in and decided to sit on the bed next to me. I gave a concerned look at my friend as I moved to the opposite side of the bed and backed myself into the corner against the wall, getting as far away as I could. He moved closer and closer despite me telling him to stay away. He then started touching me and asking for me to kiss him. I denied him verbally and physically pushed him away. He became very aggressive and threw himself on top of me before I could get up and walk out. He pinned me down and started kissing me while ripping my jacket off and touching me all over. I quickly fought him off and got up to leave, but to my surprise some people in the room were just staring and others continued on in their conversations as if nothing happened. I glanced at my friend who was smiling while some even giggled at the incident. I then doubted myself and questioned whether or not this was okay after all. I ended up staying and just moving far away from him. Once again he aggressively pinned me down and did the same thing, successfully tearing my jacket buttons open and grabbing my breasts. I fought harder and ran out angry without my bag or shoes, frantically calling my mom to come pick me up. Of course I did not tell her the truth and just made up a reason for cancelling the sleep over. My friend ran outside after me begging me not to leave. He came after her, I don't remember what he said, only that I instinctively slapped him across the face and then stormed off into the street as I waited for my mom. After getting picked up, that night was never spoken of again with my friend or anyone else. It wasn't rape or a violent assault as I know many girls and women experience. It did however shape my view on what sexuality and intimacy looks like, which led to many relational complications later on in life. It also caused me to mistrust other women as I did not feel they would believe me, stand up for me, or have my back.
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
Towards the end of my senior year my friends and I started partying. We were just trying to have fun, most of us had never even drank before. It started out all fun and games, just making memories that could last forever. We all graduated together and partied even more, but enough background story. One night I ended up losing my virginity and it was exciting and sad altogether. So I told my mom and went and got on birth control. Well my best friend Jon and I had been fighting. He stopped talking to me. He and I being best friends since sophomore year, I took it hard. We'd almost dated a few months prior. Well I went out and slept with 3 more guys within 2 months, just trying to have fun. Well one night my friends and I were having a group call and out of nowhere Jon (my ex best friend) called me a whore on the phone, and I just hung up the phone. Just taking in the concept of someone I used to be so close to calling me something I never wanted to become hurt. I cried every day for a while. The rest of my friends never said anything. They didn't comfort me or say, "He didn't mean it" or "It's not true." They never said one thing to me for months. I felt betrayed and lost. I felt like every one of them thought I was a whore. He even tweeted about me that same night, calling me a whore and a slut. Telling me I probably couldn't even name all the guys I'd slept with or that I couldn't count them on my fingers. Every comment filled my heart with more and more sadness. And because this town is small everyone saw the comments being made on Twitter and everyone knows what happened. Rumors about me to this day still go around. People still ask about me or bring it up when I walk by and it's been a year. Ever since then when I hang out with my friends I feel like they still think I'm a whore and that they talk about me behind my back. Nothing is the same anymore. But your story and your project has filled me with happiness. To know that others have experienced similar things and that someone cares enough to start a project that helps other girls so they don't have to be alone like I was and is trying to change the way people define each other means so much. You, Emily, are my personal hero and you have forever impacted the way I think about myself as a person. Thank you for just being you and sharing your story with the world and starting this amazing project. Much love for The UnSlut Project and thank you for reading my story. - Shania
The first time I was raped, it was when I lost my virginity. I was coerced into doing it with a guy who I thought was my best friend. He was no friend. He was manipulative and cruel. I was told that your first time always hurts, you always bleed. It did hurt, and I did bleed - for two days in fact. I know now that that is a lie. Your first time doesn't have to hurt. If it does, you are probably not ready and willing. You are scared. And I was scared. I didn't want to do it. Looking back, I so wish I had said no. The second time I was assaulted, a guy at a party pushed me to the ground and forced oral sex on me. My crime? I was wearing a bikini and "let" him forcibly touch me in a hot tub. The third time, I was in college. I needed stitches after this encounter. And that is all I will say. The fourth time, I was drugged and remember none of it. I feel blessed that this time, this time I was at least spared the shame of remembering. Each time it happened, I shut off. I checked out. I day dreamed while it happened and cried in the shower after it was over. I have always repressed these memories. I did anything I could to convince myself this was all my fault. And I punished myself for it. I starved myself. I cut myself. I burned myself. I suffered crippling anxiety, to the point where I would rip out my hair and nails. It was only when I started reading this blog, and taking classes on feminist theory, that I realized it was not me. I was not the problem. We live in a culture where men see us as objects, where they feel entitled to our bodies. I was not assaulted multiple times because I was a slut or a freak or anything else. I have been assaulted multiple times because our culture said that was okay. And it's time for that to end.
The past two days I have felt belittled by peers because of my intolerance of "slut" shaming. I go to an all-girls Catholic school, which is very conservative. I am enrolled in a course called "Catholic ethics." In this course we talk about the pros and cons of many controversial subjects. The subjects we discuss include the death penalty, abortion, gender, sexuality, etc. Yesterday my teacher brought up the subject of glorifying abusive relationships, specifically she was talking about "50 Shades of Grey." Everyone in my class is a senior in high school and is 18 years old or will be turning 18 by the end of the year. Most people have either read the books or seen the movie. Recently a large amount of girls at my school got in a lot of trouble for going to a party called "CEOs and office hoes." Personally I was not in attendance. Although I didn't go many of my friends in my ethics class went and got in trouble by the school. My ethics teacher brought this party up in class and began to talk about how as young women we must love ourselves, and it does not look like we love ourselves when we dress as an "office hoe." She also began to speak about a girl who prostituted her body to pay for college and she didn't want it to happen to us. She also said something along the lines of, "If you go around having sex you don't love yourself." She also began to speak about how awful the party, "50 Shades of Grey," and meaningless sex was. Many of the girls in the class were not virgins, loved 50 Shades of Grey, or went to the party. The teacher's initial point about glorifying abusive relationships was valid, however other points were not okay. I am not a virgin, and I like "50 Shades of Grey," and when she spoke she made me feel ashamed of who I was and what I liked. I'm 18 years old and I have made my own decisions and she made me feel lesser than other people who waited to have sex. She made many girls in my class feel uncomfortable and ashamed because they attended the party even though they had fun. A lot of girls in the class began to feel ashamed for decisions they made that they previously didn't feel shame about (me included). After she spoke I shot my hand up and when I was called on I said something along the lines of, "'Slut' shaming is a real thing and just because you have sex doesn't mean you don't love your self. I'm sure many girls in this room feel ashamed because they went to that party and are not virgins. Even though they made decisions that you don't agree with, doesn't mean they are bad people." Then the teacher started to apologize and back track, talking about how "CEOs and office hoes" glorifies "50 Shades of Grey" and how people shouldn't strive for abusive relationships and how she wants us all to be safe. After she said this, many girls in my class spoke up and I felt personally attacked after I was vulnerable and shared my true opinion. I was told that I was in the wrong, I was offensive, the teacher did nothing wrong, "slut" shaming doesn't even apply, people make the decision to have sex and they have to deal with the repercussions of it, I was rude, and my personal favorite: "Why did you bring this up, it's not guys' fault for doing the things if we dress like office hoes." Reminder, this is an ALL GIRLS school. Young females reacted this way when another girl (me) brought up a prominent issue that all girls should be aware of. After we talked about that in class, girls began to talk outside of class and make statements along these lines: it's so slutty having sex, you shouldn't have casual sex, did you hear she got herpes from doing oral, she is such a dirty virgin, she doesn't even count as a virgin, only really slutty girls give head, ew I can't believe people think it's okay to have one night stands in high school. When I heard these things I felt awful, I started to cry and couldn't believe what was being said after I tried to stand up for what I believed in. I felt so ashamed for my beliefs and my actions until I realized that I was being "slut" shamed for talking about "slut" shaming at an all girls school. The irony of the situation has become so frustrating and it's come to the point where I can only talk about this with a few girls to avoid getting attacked. I think this needs to be addressed, I am afraid to say something again, and so many girls are so naive about the situation that it worries me. Education about "slut" shaming needs to become more clear and accessible to young women, and I want to help spread awareness about such an important issue. - Erin A.
I was a cheerleader in 9th grade and that allowed me to mingle with guys that otherwise never would have talked to me. One of the track super stars J.M. asked me out to a party with him. I had never been on a date before so I said yes and we went. He kept giving me drink after drink and eventually took me upstairs. He took off my shirt and started groping my chest. All of sudden his friends burst into the room and I got dressed. I went downstairs and he followed. I was standing outside and then went over to him and said, "What are you going to say about me?" His friends made comments, asking if I blew him, and I said no. I said, "I want to go home now." I started to give him the cold shoulder and his sister even confronted me in front of a bunch of people, saying I was a slut that broke his heart. I still think of him every so often, and wonder if he thinks about what he did that night (or other nights with other girls), and if he has any remorse at all.
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
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
Never in my life have I been branded a 'slut' or a 'whore' or 'bitch'. Nothing like that - because my mother would've found out and definitely put a stop to it. Sure, I have been bullied, but not like that. Because I live in such a small town - everyone in my year have known each other since we were born. It isn't a bad thing, but it isn't a good one either. When I was 16, I had no friends. This was because I was the new kid, and everyone had formed friendships at least over 10 years before I came. Half-way into the year I met a girl (let's call her Evelyn) and we quickly became very good friends. She was pretty, nice, had lovely friends, and was really popular. I was set. In October we were invited to a Halloween party. This wasn't uncommon, but exciting. We arrived and immediately I knew that it felt wrong. I wanted to leave but Evelyn wanted to stay. So I shut my mouth and did as I was told. When everyone around me was tipsy at about midnight, they formed a circle. Evelyn had been making out with a hot guy, and he stopped and threw her into the middle of the circle. They started to remove her clothing, one piece at a time, all whilst calling her names. Disgusting names were called out and spat in her face. Eventually I got through the crowd and took her home. On Monday, everyone had seen the video. Of them taking her clothes off. Of her naked. She was called a slut by her own best friends. Evelyn took her own life a month later. Please, don't slut shame. It is wrong. And if you are a victim, please tell someone so they can help you. If you see it happening, try to help. This needs to be stopped, because it is wrong and disgusting. - Lily Faulkner
I was a camgirl for several years and I was open about it with my boyfriend. He was supportive of me and my expression of my body, he never acted judgmental or degrading towards me. Camming made me feel strong and sexual and dynamic and I enjoyed it. It was safe, legal, and a good source of income in college. One night my boyfriend invited me to a friend's house for a game night, proceeded to get me very drunk, and ended up sharing me with a number of people at the party. I am still not sure how many people. He video taped it and weeks later decided to show it to me as a surprise. He thought I'd like it because I was a camgirl. He thought I'd be okay watching myself get date raped because I took my clothes off on camera. His response when I screamed at him and left him was that if I had a problem being naked and sexual on camera I shouldn't be a camgirl. I quit camming, I've had impossible trust issues ever since, and what is worse is that his words affected me so deeply that I have never felt like I deserved to try and go to the police about it. I feel like I let other women down by being another woman to keep it as my dirty little secret. Well, I'm writing it now. Camming made me feel strong, like a virile sex goddess completely in control of my own body, with control over who had access to it. I let someone take that from me and it took ten years to get it back. Never be afraid to claim your body. Never be afraid to want sex, any way YOU want sex. It's yours. You belong only to you. And anyone that tries to take it from you, or make you feel guilty for claiming your sexuality, they deserve to feel shame, you deserve to be proud.
I was drugged at a party and sexually assaulted in college. The combination of drugs in my drink resulted in long lasting memory problems and the entire experience increased my anxiety and the frequency of panic attacks. I feel horrible asking my professors for extra help and special accommodations because of what was done to my brain by those drugs I never consented to taking. I feel afraid to ask them for help because I am afraid they will judge me. Everyone seems to blame me for taking a drink I was offered by a guy I thought was nice. Guys always say we judge them all too harshly, that not every guy is a rapist, yet when I do trust a man to give me a drink, he drugs it. And it's still my fault for taking it. Do men really not see the paradox here? I'm supposed to trust every man as a good guy, or at least not believe he is a bad one, yet when I do that and he hurts me, it is still MY fault!? It is infuriating. I carry a bitterness in my heart for the "good guy" who forever affected my education because he saw me as nothing more than a sex toy. Well, I will show him. No matter what he gave me, I will graduate with honors. He does not define me, I do.
This summer, I was super drunk at a party and I had sex with a boy in a bathroom. The only boy I have ever had sex with before was my then boyfriend of 9 months. I'm 18 and single. I kept the incident to myself. The boy didn't. The following weekend I was at a party and my friends began shoving their iPhones in my face telling me to look at Snapchat. A boy at the party took a picture of me when I wasn't looking and in the caption he put my hookup's name and called me his "slam piece". Immediately I looked for this boy who posted this. He disappeared. The surrounding boys saw the picture and were laughing at me. Some of my friends looked at me differently and I felt their shame. I ran to the bathroom and started crying of embarrassment. I've never felt so belittled. If the situation was reversed and I was a boy, I would get a pat on the back. Instead, I'm looked down upon as a slut. Fortunately, I leave for college in 6 days and nobody will know who I am. Sad that this is the reason I'm excited to leave this town.
I was "blessed" with an hour glass figure: big breasts, tiny waist, big hips. This figure started developing when I was very young and by the time I reached seventh grade, I was a C cup. I was 12 years old and men in their 20s were hitting on me because they couldn't see the child's face past the woman's body.
It was seventh grade when the rumours started. A few of the significant ones I remember are of me apparently having a video of me stripping on Youtube, that I got naked on webcam for anyone and strangers, that I wasn't a virgin, and that I stuffed my bra. I had never even kissed a boy. The middle school guidance counselor didn't help either. She was constantly harassing me about my inappropriate clothing. I wore the same clothes as everyone else, from the same stores, but somehow they were inappropriate because I had a form for them to fit. I was constantly sent home, called in to the office, and forced to wear clothes from the lost and found. It was humiliating. When I asked why I got in trouble when other girls wore the exact same shirt, I was told that I just didn't have the body for it. It seemed that the school wouldn't be happy unless I dressed like a boy. It was eighth grade when things got way worse. During the summer, I had my first boyfriend but he was from a different town (my grandparents lived there and I had spent the summer with him). Everyone either thought that I made him up or that I was doing horrible immoral things with him. Since being a "slut" wasn't the only thing I was bullied for, people found it hard to believe I could get a boyfriend. The second favourite insult of my tormentors was "fat," since they were too young to notice the waist in between the hips and breasts. Someone found my Yahoo! answers account where I had gone to ask questions about my body, and they twisted things around and told everyone that my vagina smelled like cheese. For the rest of the year, people constantly yelled "cheesy odour" at me. On New Years (still grade 8), my older friend took me to a party. There was drinking involved. One of the guys there took an interest in me and we ended up having sex. I had only ever kissed a boy before so I didn't understand what was happening until about halfway through. The rest of the time I remember sitting there wishing it would be over but not wanting to be rude. My friend went back to school after the break and told the entire high school what had happened. After that, I would have random girls on the street or the bus or the mall yell at me, call me a whore, accuse me of having STDs, etc. I got another boyfriend in March of grade 8. My "best friend" made up countless rumours that were absurd, but everyone believed anyways. She said that she had came over and there were used condoms all over my room, that I had sex with my boyfriend in my front yard, and other things to that effect. The summer before high school, my older friend got mad at me and turned everyone in the high school against me. I also got black out drunk at a party and when I came to, I was in some guy's backseat bent over puking out the door and he was inside me. After that, I didn't believe that I had the right to say no. I'm not going to lie, there have been countless others and to this day, I'm not sure how many of them would even be considered consensual. They would beg, and I would give in. The times I did say no, they told everyone we had sex anyways. I felt like I owed it to them, to anyone who wanted it. I couldn't say no. Ninth grade started. My older friend kept trying to fight me. There were countless rumours of STDs, pregnancies, countless sexual partners, and anything that also degraded me (bestiality, threesomes, bondage, cheating). I had friends but they all talked about me behind my back. I think my "friends" were responsible for more rumours than anyone else. One girl kept trying to fight me over rumours. She would chase me through the mall, or come punch me, or harass and accuse me of things. People yelled things at me, harassed me online, threatened me. At one party, two girls tried to beat me up and push me in the bonfire. At another, I fell asleep and woke up to people kicking me, pissing on me, and T-bagging me. No one had stood up for me. There was an older guy (21) who came to the school and fell for me. When I rejected him, he came to the school with a knife, threatening to kill me. The police were called. After that, things got worse. I was a slut and a narc and I was in danger, so we moved to another town. I went to this school for a year. I got a boyfriend and things were mostly fine. There were a couple rumours: some girls said they saw me giving him head in the parking lot. But for the most part, no one took them seriously. It was always there in the background but it was easy to ignore until my boyfriend and I broke up. Things got bad again, people were threatening me, so I ran again. I actually had to finish the last couple months of my schooling from home because it wasn't safe for me at school. I started a new school for grade 11. This time no one even tried to get to know me. My first couple weeks were filled with random girls accusing me of trying to steal their boyfriends and trying to fight me. Things calmed down and I was invisible. I literally did not have one single friend. I started dating a boy who was also new and things got bad again. People were yelling names at me, making up rumours, saying I gave my boyfriend a hand job in health class. They carved "health class hand job" onto the doors of the gym, screamed it when I walked past, whenever they saw me in town. It was basically like that all of grade 11 and 12, except this time, I didn't even have fake friends. I was completely isolated. No one had ever even bothered to talk to me unless it was to bully me. The boy I dated ended up being a jerk and contributed to a lot of it. He cheated on me all the time, but somehow I was the whore. It was just unbearable. It was everywhere I went and I had no one to talk to. I was completely alone. I broke two months before I graduated and tried to kill myself. I took a lot of pills and it made me sleep for days and really sick but I lived. After that I realized that I couldn't kill myself because all of those assholes would be the same ones posting on Facebook about how it's such a tragedy and they don't know what went wrong. I couldn't give them that satisfaction. I graduated high school and thought it was over, but it has followed me. University is filled with my bullies from every school I attended, I can't go to the bar without being harassed, people bully me online, whenever they see me in public. I can't escape it. I'm 20 years old and people are constantly messaging my boyfriend to tell him how bad of a person I am. That's the worst of it. Everybody thinks that I'm the bad person. Countless people bullied me, even more stood by and let it happen. These same people go on Facebook crusades about how wrong bullying is, but no one cared when it happened to me. But I'm the bad person. Because I'm a slut. Because people turned me into a self-fulfilling prophecy, and made me believe that I wasn't worth anything more, that I owed men sex, that I didn't have the right to say no because sluts don't say no. Because I developed curves a little bit too early. I don't know how to escape this. I can't make friends. I can't get a boyfriend. As soon as people hear I met someone, they flock to tell this person why they need to avoid me. And it's really, really hard to have absolutely no one. I'm ashamed of my body, I'm ashamed of my past, of my number, and I don't think anyone will ever accept me for it. I'm 20 years old and still being judged by rumours people made up when I was 14. The truth? Almost every guy I have had sex with has coerced me into it when I had originally refused. Some of those guys didn't bother coercing me and took what they wanted regardless of what I said. I have been in 3 serious relationships. I have never cheated. I dated my high school boyfriend for almost 3 years, and my last boyfriend for 7 months. I have not had sex in 6 months. I have probably had sex with between 60 and 70 people. I was a very awkward and socially unaware child, which naturally escalated when I hit puberty. I had always been bullied for a variety of things. This wasn't helped by the fact I grew taller than all my friends, had very thick, frizzy hair, and my breasts suddenly developed. However despite this, at the age of 12 I found a group of friends. I cut my hair and straightened it, and by 13 my new friends and I would go out drinking every weekend. Boys in my school openly mocked me for how I looked, that I was tall and fat, and I was desperate to lose my virginity in order to get some validation. If I couldn't be accepted at school I would a least gain value from boys outside of school. I did lose my virginity, which no one seemed to find out about, however at 14 I slept with a 17 year old Marine my best friend fancied. I was very drunk at the time and hardly remembered the experience, but I told my friend because I knew she would find out eventually. All of our group of friends stopped speaking to me, all the details of my sexual experiences became common knowledge and people I didn't know from my school would call me a slut and whore when they walked past me at school. My friend told everyone I had slept with her boyfriend, and how much of a slut I was. The school became aware of it and I had to defend my actions to my teachers, who thought I'd brought the situation on myself. It became a self fulfilling prophecy and as I felt continually pushed out at school, I started associating with more and more people who were completely disconnected from my educational system and taking drugs. I was so desperate for what I perceived to be positive validation, I slept with a lot of people just to feel wanted and attractive. I recently met a boy who called a whore from my year at school on a night out and he told me he'd said those things cause he wanted to sleep with me and secretly thought all the other boys had said it as well, cause they wanted to have sex. I don't know how I felt about that. During the aforementioned time, my dad told me all I'd ever be useful for was my cunt and when I asked him for money one he he told me I should 'turn tricks for money like the other whores.' I was 15. I've now somewhat made peace with how I acted when I was younger, but still feel resentful for how I was bullied and treated because of it.
I’ve never been the pretty girl of the class or even the beautiful one, but when I turned sixteen, I changed. I had boobs, I was skinny, and I had a pretty face. I started to go out, went to parties, drinking, and met boys. I was a virgin when I was 17 years old, but everybody call me a slut. Why? Just because I had a "slut face," just because I liked to dress in a sexy way. Just because they could do it. They could go out and say: do you see that girl? She's a whore. And everybody would believe it unquestioningly. At the start it doesn’t hurt. I knew that I didn’t do all the things they said. But then it changed. I liked a boy. The kind of boy that makes you feel sexy and then makes ten other girls feel sexy, too. The kind of boy that doesn’t want more than sex. I’m not blaming him. I knew that when I went with him. And I used to think that I wanted it too, because I didn't deserve more. Or if I deserved more, I'd never have it. And I had sex with him. I had sex with a boy that thought I was a slut. But I was virgin, and he never knew it. But he went out and told everybody that wanted to listen that I was "bad in bed." That I was a "rookie." Everybody still called me slut behind my back. I know what I am and what I’ll never be. But it's still happening. Boys that hardly know me think I’m a whore. But I’m not a slut or a saint, I’m a person. And nobody should expect anything from me because I have nothing to prove. I’m a person. I’m a woman. And even when they call me a slut for doing what I want to do, even when it hurts, I’m still a person. I deserve to be treated with respect and the people who don't respect me, doesn't deserve to be in my life. I'm not a slut. I don't have a "slut face." I'm a person. And I know it even when the rest of the world doesn't. - Carla
When I was 15 I went to a party and someone who I thought was my friend decided to pin me down and touch me without my consent. I managed to get away from him before anything more could happen but it was still pretty scary. Though no one ever directly called me a slut after, I was still made to feel like I had done something wrong. When I would share my story with people, the first thing people would ask me were things like if I was drunk, what I was wearing, or why I didn’t fight back more. These are all things that I have no bearing on the situation and only serve to make me feel like it was my fault; like somehow HIS decision to assault me was something I was asking for. It took me an unnecessarily long time to really understand that it was nothing that I had done wrong, and feeling like it was my fault is a horrible effect of our “slut” and victim shaming culture.
I was 17 at a party. There were about ten of us sleeping on the floor of the room. At about five in the morning when everyone had just got to sleep, I suddenly woke up being touched by a boy, he had his hands under my shirt and was trying to get into my trousers. I started shouting at him to stop touching me, but he wouldn’t, so I hit him lightly at first, but then, when he still wouldn’t stop, I hit him really hard and he let go of me and walked away crying. Now, this never resulted in slut shaming. I was very vocal about him being a rapist douche bag, expelling all my shame and anger at him. In fact, I wish I had gone to the police, but I just didn’t think of that. I was by no means very popular, but people still sided with me rather than him. This isn’t a story of slut shaming, but perhaps may help some girls experiencing similar attacks. Don’t be afraid to get angry at them, hit them back and openly tell people what they’ve done and tell them how horrible they are for doing it. And tell your parents or the police, as some of the attacks described on this site are of obvious criminal nature. I know it may be difficult, but that’s a way you can fight back, as people like to abuse those they think of as weak. Just ignoring and bearing it simply doesn’t work. This obviously wouldn’t work in all cases, but I hope it may in some. Remember, sex is great and don’t let anyone tell you you’re bad simply cause you’re a sexual human being.
Because I was labelled a slut, they assumed I was up for anything. I had never even talked to boys before. At a party they locked me in a closet with an older boy who grabbed my breasts and put his hands down my trousers. When they let me out they all laughed and chanted slut. I was 13.
I’m 15 years old in 9th grade in Northern California. I moved here from the UK last August. Last July, in the UK, I went to a party. I was pretty popular, I had a lot of friends. The boys at this party tried to get me drunk. I had never had alcohol, and I was given lots of drinks that started off being mixed with alcohol, and then became pure liquor. They succeeded with getting me completely out of my senses. About 6 guys made out with me and forced me to touch them, and they touched me. They trampled on me and held me down at points. One guy literally dragged me up the stairs into a room and unzipped my shorts and tried to have sex with me. I told him to not, I didn’t want it to happen. I was on my period. I never found out exactly how close we got to having sex, but it was scarily close. People went round at the party saying that we had sex, and a couple of girls who were my close friends said that I was on my period. I woke up the next day with bruises all over every part of my body and feeling horrible, disgusting. I can’t even find the words to describe how I felt at that time. There had been a Facebook event for this party, and everyone was posting about me on that page, talking about the boy and how he fucked “period girl.” People I didn’t know messaged me calling me a slut and making jokes about periods. I was sent texts by people from my whole school asking if I needed a tampon, or if I was loose enough there already. I wanted to die. I felt dirty and believed everybody. I believed that I was a slut. I was so ashamed, school was hell for me. The worst part was that everyone just didn’t talk about it to me, but no one could hold eye contact with me anymore. I tried to explain to my friends, but they just kind of brushed it off and called me a slut behind my back. I still didn’t tell anyone about what happened, like my mum. But ever since that night I had dreams about that night. I couldn’t stop them, and I was so terrified that I didn’t even know how far we’d been. My nightmares were hell. I want to thank you because your blog makes me feel like I’m not the only person who has been slut shamed and hasn’t done anything to cause it. It makes me so upset that so many people go through being treated like this. Your entries are great, I’m so glad I found you.
In 9th grade, my best friend took a photo of me on his phone in my bra, holding my shirt against myself, while playing strip poker at a party. He showed it around the school and even showed it to my mom. Luckily there was a hot tub at the party so I told her it was my bathing suit. I cried at school and everyone made fun of me. They told me they were doing it to loosen me up. I was bullied after school on MSN. I wouldn’t let my mom go to the principal. We all made up eventually but I don’t remember how.
At a high school party my friend and I were both date raped, but because we had participated in drinking at the party, once the rumor spread about how we had sex with 3 different guys the entire high school blamed us for our actions. Yes, we were sixteen and wanted to drink at the party, but we never planned on waking up naked in an empty room having to piece together what had gone on. The shame and embarrassment kept us from pressing charges. We were called sluts and that night still haunts us both.
I’d never even kissed a guy until junior year. And when I finally did, I liked it. I was studying abroad, and I came back more comfortable with myself. Well, that got me a lot more male attention. But having been raised as anti-sex as possible, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. Now at the end of my senior year, I don’t go a day without someone asking me if the rumour is true. So yes, Internet, I did sleep with that guy at that party. Yes, it was good. And yep, we broke up.
This [diary] rings so many bells. At about the same age, I had a ‘boyfriend’. He and his friends came round one evening to play in the garden. We kissed once, closed mouths. Then we all played strip spin the bottle. I was not the only one that (reluctantly) took clothes off, but when they relayed the story at school, I was the one that got the hassle for it. People would sing the stripping tune at me and ask me to take my shirt off. It was hell, and I couldn’t ask for help because I was humiliated. I haven’t thought about it in a long time. I was considered a slut for ages. But I didn’t have sex ‘til I was 20. Go figure. I had some good times growing up, but this wasn’t one of them. Thanks for this, anyway. You’re brave to post your diary, and ten-year-old me feels a lot less alone.
|
