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I was in sixth grade when I first questioned my sexuality. I wasn't exactly in a safe place to do so, though, because I live in the Bible Belt, which means that I see a lot of "Pray the Gay away" and "Marriage=wife+husband" stickers on cars. So my friend also questioned if she was straight or not, and we constantly looked up different terms and sexualities that could apply to us, and soon found out that we were bisexual. Over time, I developed the biggest crush on her, and nearly a day after I told her about my feelings, she said that she thought she was straight. Of course I was a little heartbroken - who wouldn't be?! - but I knew that I had to accept her like she accepted me. And I thought she was my friend, honestly, I mean, she wouldn't tell anyone, right? Wrong. The next year (I told her in May), the beginning of seventh grade, I came back to people chanting "BISLUT!" at me in the hallway and "WHORE" and "SELFISH BISEXUAL" written on anonymous notes, which annually appeared in my locker. I had nearly no friends. All of them were either afraid of me falling in love with them or they didn't want to be around the "whore" or "slut". Over time, I thought I'd get used to it… but I didn't. The name calling went on and on and it never was normal. So I picked up a blade. I would cut nearly everyday, and try my best to hide it from the people who didn't want me doing it. I didn't tell anyone. Months passed, and I fell into depression worse than ever. My mother gave me my pills every single day, and carefully watched me. But I felt like living wasn't worth it. And then, I swallowed fifteen sleeping pills. I would've died right then if my mother hadn't walked in on me to give me my antidepressant, and worried, she took to me to the hospital. Okay, so if you have a failed suicide attempt and you're taken to the hospital because you have a very small chance of living, you probably will end up in a psych ward, which is what happened to me. I was in there for two weeks, and I made amazing friends. I dealt with my sexuality, and I learned that just because I'm attracted to both doesn't mean I'm a "slut". (No one is.) Now, let me say this. Mental hospitals really aren't that scary. They're very plain and dull but not scary. The nurses aren't mean and the patients aren't going to murder you in your sleep. You're safe there. Trust me. I met a really nice lesbian who was in there because of her grandparents' emotional abuse towards her, which led her to self-harm. I met a girl who suffered from a bipolar disorder who also was bisexual. Over all, there was just a lot of amazing people. And the next year when I went to a different school, I was welcomed for my sexuality, and even had a girlfriend, which was my first openly gay relationship. What I'm trying to say is be yourself. There's no one more beautiful. - Sarah
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.
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.
I was 17 when I first met him. He was tall and extremely handsome, well spoken and had just finished his CPL (Commercial Pilots License) training. But I thought nothing of it, till few months later we met at my university. He was a charmer. But there was no connection. I had never had a boyfriend before and just wanted to concentrate on my education. He invited me to join him and his friends to watch Joe Satriani play and since JS was one of my favourite musicians, I didn't refuse. From then on, his friends became mine and our social circle emerged. Few weeks after my 18th birthday, my mum told me his family had asked for my hand in marriage. (It's quite normal to have an arranged marriage in my culture. I am part Pakistani and part Indian.) My father wasn't too keen but my maternal family pressured my mum into getting my dad to agree. I said yes. He was extremely caring and thoughtful at first. He would drive me to university and even pick me up. On the weekends we would hang out on campus. However, I wanted to do things on my own and he didn't like that. We hadn't had sex. We were Muslims and I thought Muslim girls should have sex after marriage. (I was not taught this by my parents, though.) He would get sad if I suggested we should not hang out every weekend as I wanted to study and sometimes hang out with my other friends. At first I thought he loved me and wanted to be with me, but slowly I began to realise, he's actually controlling me. One weekend I went home to my parents and texted him to say so. He replied Okay.xx and I thought nothing of it. But when I went back to campus, I realised nothing was okay. He was angry and abusive and I couldn't understand why. 'How dare you go without my permission?' By then, he had isolated me from most of my friends, and the ones which still stayed around were his best buddies. I felt trapped and abused. I told him he was scaring me and he would always make promises to not do it again. He would promise to build my dream home, take me on trips to anywhere in the world; we are not taught to look at these behaviours as signs of manipulation. But soon, it wasn't verbal anymore. My best friend invited me to a halloween party and I dressed up. As soon as he saw me, he dragged me by my arm and pushed me into his car. In the car he slapped me. That was the first time he had hit me like that. I didn't know who to tell. I felt if I told my parents I would be in trouble. I am not sure why I thought that because my parents were both feminists. But I was scared. I was an 18 year old, scared to death by a man who she was engaged to marry. However, the next day he was apologetic again. The same evening, he came into my place and started to touch me. We had kissed, but this was more intimate and I told him, I didn't want to have sex. That was the first time he raped me. And it went on for 2 further years. Every day he would make me give him a blowjob. But his real pleasure came from me blowing him whilst crying. If I didn't cry, he would slap me and continue to slap me till I did. This stopped only when my father found out. You see, my ex fiance was not a British citizen. He was here to study and was originally from Pakistan. When my father found out and confronted him, he left England and went back to Pakistan. It took me 6 years before I dated again. Only to be emotionally be traumatised again. I am 28 years old now. I really don't think I can ever trust a man again. - Maheen Najeeb
I come from a Vietnamese Catholic family, so purity is a major thing for girls and women.10/15/2019
My younger sister just called me a slut because I show normal affection to my boyfriend whom I love. Seriously, what is wrong with a girl hugging, playing with, and kissing her boyfriend? He is my first boyfriend too, so it is a new experience for my family to go through. I have never displayed it publicly to the most extreme degree. It sucks since I have never been called that by anyone else, not even from strangers. Out of all people, my own blood would say something that vile about me to my own face. If strangers say that, they don't really know me so they would judge however they want, but family who have been with me since birth should know me better. It hurts that they are the ones who say it since they should know and believe in me the most. And she wonders why I "never" talk about anything with her. Of course I would, being her older sister, but she is too closed-minded. It is hard to get through people who push you away. I'm fortunate enough that his family is accepting and understanding while my family is more traditional and believes that purity makes a person good and doing something 'impure' makes them bad. I come from a Vietnamese Catholic family, so purity is a major thing for girls and women. Although my parents understand that times and people have changed, the only people that bother me are my younger sister and grandmother. My grandmother called me a slut for wearing shorts in my own home. What have I done to her to be disrespected? When I do things for him, I do it by choice and not because I have no self-respect nor self-control. Of course I have my own voice and he respects that too, it's just too bad my own family doesn't. Whatever happens between us should not concern anyone else unless it concerns our own and others' safety. Whenever I want to just be in the moment with him, to be happy, their words just haunt me and it makes things difficult for me to do anything. Whenever this happens, he feels as if I'm rejecting him or losing interest, which is untrue. My feelings still grow as I am with him but their firm views and opinions are making it difficult for me to be open about it. They make me feel shameful about myself and my actions. He makes me feel happy and loved. I have no problems with him but they just need to shut up. Being affectionate should not make anyone feel guilt. No one should have control over what I choose to do or how I feel. If there are people unhappy about me, please do not hate or show disrespect to me. I would prefer if they just ignored me. It would benefit both sides since I don't need anyone to bring me down and they gain nothing but bitterness if they continue with this.
I am from India. A country which is bound by certain restrictions which are considered a part of our culture. We need to think twice before falling in love with someone, be it in high school or after graduation. Arranged marriages are a common norm here, wherein the parents decide the spouse of their son or daughter. Although this norm is changing with time, as the parents are becoming more open to children finding their own partners, the concept of 'dating' someone is a HUGE deal here. I feel people don't really get the meaning of the word 'slut'. It is a curse which you can just give a girl. There was a girl in my school and rumour had it that she had dated about five guys, she was labeled a 'slut'. She never made out or slept with anyone. But yet, she was 'the slut'. No one talked to her and she was deserted for no fault of hers. No one knew or even gave a thought to her side of the story. Why do people take this word so lightly. Calling girls 'slut' and 'prostitute'?! We need to bring changes in our attitudes towards girls. Unless we know their story we HAVE NO RIGHT to judge them. I strongly resent this.
My bullying story isn't much. It never was, and it never will be. I just want people to know that this is a type of bullying, too. My friends and I were never popular. We were the left overs. We weren't the wildflowers, or the bad kids, we just weren't anything. The other kids ignored our existence, unless they needed homework answers or something, which we gladly gave them. We, or at least I, was happy this way. It started in seventh grade with one boy and his friends in particular. I was in math class, and I didn't have too many friends. First, they found out I was left handed. They called me 'God's deformity', and when my friend tried to back me up, they laughed at her. I ignored them. Then, they found out I was half Jewish, and made fun of me for that. My friend told the teacher, and the teacher did absolutely nothing. They started making fun of my two friends as well as me. They called one of my friends fat, and one of my friends (you guessed it) a slut. They called me both. I never had the guts to stand up, but my friends kept telling the math teacher. Each time they told her, the teacher did nothing. I lost all courage. When I rose my hand to speak, I'd stutter and my voice wouldn't come. I'd pretend to be someone I'm not, even around my friends, so they can't make fun of me. If I wore a tight shirt, they called me fat. If I wore a loose shirt, they called me a slut. One of my friends was so destroyed by all of this, she started cutting. At first, I was the only one who noticed because she hid it well. Then, one of the teachers saw and sent her to the guidance counselor. The bullying all stopped for a while, until one day, the guidance counselor called one of the teachers, asking for my friend. The teacher told her, and she asked to take me along. It started up again. They called us "attention whores" and sluts, and every name they could think of. Eventually, after a year of flat out ignoring them, they went back to ignoring us. My courage is still gone. I can't even look anyone in the eye in fear they'll judge me for something I can't control. What I'm saying is that if there's a problem, you should attack it right at the start. Don't let it eat away at you like it did to me. Don't be a coward. The teacher who did nothing was fired when other teacher found out about it. Do something. - Lily
I just wanted to share a quick story about a new girl that came to our school. I won't say her name because of personal privacy but here's what happened. I go to a Christian school. Most people think of Christians as goodie-two-shoes and that we never have fun. Well, part of that is true but just because you're a Christian doesn't mean you never do bad things. We're all human. There was another school up the road from our school. Our school was a private school while that school was public. A girl from the public school transferred to our school. She was really shy and really fun to be around, but people would sometimes refer to her as a "slut" just because of the school she had come from! (And I admit, at first I was a part of this.) She had also had more boyfriends than most do the girls in my grade... And that added up to about 10. (Not a lot of the girls date in my school till grade 10.) In the end, once people got to know her, nobody called her a slut anymore and she became well liked by all. My point that I'm trying I get across with you is that it's wrong to judge someone just because of where they come from, or what they have done. It's mean, totally rude, and it's bullying.
I don't know what happened to me. I know what I was told and I know what others object or deny. I was raised being told that I had been abused as a child. I don't remember this. They forced me to go to therapists for this, put me on depression meds and readily sent me to the hospital at any 'sign of emotional distress.' I wasn't allowed to have friends and all I remember from school was the bullying. I looked much older than everyone else and the boys would call me "milk truck" and punch me in the boobs while passing me in the halls. I never had lasting relationships and I taught myself not to want them because they would be undermined by my family to 'protect me.' Religion told me it was my fault and that my isolation and exclusion was my punishment for being sexually abused before the age of 6. I wasn't allowed to wear anything but long skirts and T-shirts that were two sizes larger than my actual size. They would cut off my hair. I never felt like a girl. I never felt pretty. I just felt like a victim, less than human, and never normal. I married a man because he is good and kind and safe and will never control or abuse me. But I have to force myself to let him touch me. I love him but it's not enough to make it easy for me to be with him. I don't like anyone touching me. No one in my family ever touched me if they could help it while I was growing up. I'm better now, stronger. But I have a terrible relationship with my family. They thought they were protecting me, but they made me more of a victim than my abuser ever did.
Before I was raped, I had been fun loving, dated a lot, went out a lot and enjoyed myself, much to the disdain of a large majority of my church community. After my rape (and still now) I don't go out a lot, I haven't had a relationship with anyone and I don't drink, at all. I suffer with crippling anxiety and it just makes it hard for me to do anything. When I finally felt comfortable enough to share with a member of my church that I had been raped, her first words to me were "I know it seems like this was an awful thing that happened to you, but can't you see that God's hand was in this, He brought you back to the right path." As I sat there shocked beyond belief this lady prayed for me, thanking God that he had allowed me to see the error of my ways. I already carried a lot of guilt over my assault, I had been drunk, I was walking home alone and it was late, but I was working through this with my therapist. Now I'm just back in the dark place where I just feel like I brought this on myself, that God himself was so disgusted with me that he let this happen. If I hadn't been so 'loose', so 'easy', this wouldn't have happened. I can't go back to that church, I don't ever leave the house now unless I have to. I only opened up about what happened to me in the hope that I would be able to further my healing, and now I don't think that I ever will.
I belong to a conservative family in India where even talking about your periods is taboo. No boys, no movies, no pornography - that was the theme of my childhood and early teens (that rule is still in force). I went to an all-girls school, had few friends, as my parents are quite racist and passed judgments on others based on social background rather than intrinsic goodness. My parents were determined to send me to another state (within India) for higher education and after graduating from 12th grade, I ended up in a university in a big city. I was assigned a room in one of the dorms, which I had to share with 3 older girls belonging to other disciplines. I made friends with them, one of whom was named 'A'. She was from the same state as me and hence we decided to stick together. Within a week of my arrival, my roommates and their friends called me and 'A' for an 'introduction' aimed at getting to know us. This is one of those dreaded rituals for freshmen, as the so-called seniors can fire any embarrassing questions that you have to answer on the spot. One such question posed to 'A' was, "Do you have a boyfriend?" She answered no, and replied that usually boys were rowdy and therefore she preferred the company of girls. There were many giggles among the girls after this, and one of them loudly told me, between giggles, that I should not hang out with 'A' or I might end up liking girls, too! Needless to say, both 'A' and I were crushed at their cruel words. 'A' looked at me accusingly as it was one of my roommates who had declared her as a lesbian. And both of us could not protest against them. Freshmen who went against seniors had to face consequences. A year later, one of the girls in my class asked me for help with her studies. She was slightly disabled and belonged to a poor family. She had no cellphone, and therefore handed me a letter, where she had frankly written about her handicap, her family condition, as well as her request to be tutored by me. Out of embarrassment, she implored me to read her letter in privacy. However when 'A' and my new roommates saw the letter, they started giggling and declared, "Looks like a love letter, or else why would the girl ask you to read it in private?" I smiled at them but was deeply hurt - without reading the letter, how on earth could you pass a judgment on the sexuality of a person? The three years spent in the university were hellish - I encountered perverts who made lewd comments about my body and clothing, and occasional flashers who stripped before me abruptly when I was on my way to class early in the morning and vanished before I could call the university guards. 'A' told me not to tell these matters to my parents; it was part of the Honour Code – you did not want to frighten your parents and thus cause them grief and give a bad name to your university. And caught between "Good girls don’t get boyfriends and wait till marriage to have sex" and "She has no boyfriend and hangs with gal pals only - must be a lesbian," I sought the refuge of my textbooks. I could not spend the evening in the nearby park, as dangerous people loomed nearby (personal experience) nor hang around trees (evil spirits were supposed to haunt them in the evening!) nor use the washrooms in the park (gay men supposedly lurked in the washrooms of both genders and assaulted people who wanted a bathroom break!). The haunted trees and psychotic gays were of course rumours, but then nobody was willing to test these rumours and determine the truth. What I want to stress by my story is that a person’s sexuality is not a plaything. It does not matter whether you make fun of people on a mere whim - it hurts deeply. And if a straight person like me had to face ridicule on alleged lesbianism, one can only imagine the predicament of queer persons and transgendered people who face shaming. The UnSlut Project is one forum where I've found friends like Emily Lindin, who is willing to read into stories of countless women. So friends, no matter where you are residing, what your background or educational qualifications are - if you want to pour out your heart in a story, then please do so. Nobody is here to judge you based on looks and sexuality - we know what it means to be a loner, to be slut-shamed and ridiculed to the point of extreme depression. And if your gut feeling says to stay away from certain persons, then please trust your gut.
I was sexually abused in my past, many years ago for many years. Yes, I knew the man who did it. My whole family did. Yes we went to the police, but nothing came of it because I waited too long to tell anyone about it. I suffered from a fruit basket of emotional ‘disorders’. I also overcame a fruit basket of emotional ‘disorders’. I was angry. I was sad. I was basically any emotion in the most extreme form, for months when I finally decided to face this. I was forced to face it by an amazing teacher. He was the one who challenged me to tell my family and once I did my life changed forever. Not a single day has passed since I came out with the truth, that I have not been grateful about it. Granted, saying those words to my mother was the hardest thing I have had to do in my twenty one trips around the sun, but it is one of the happiest moments as well.
I have experienced victim blaming, first hand. How can a person blame an elementary school child for being sexually abused? Were my skorts too short? Were my ankle socks too low? Or was it because I was as flat chested as any boy who was in the same grade as me? He called me crazy when I confronted him at the ripe age of 16. He told me I made it up, and again, called me crazy. Then he asked me if I wanted to talk to a pastor about it. A PASTOR. He told me God would forgive me for lying. To this day I stand by my honesty, no matter the ridicule I have faced and may face. I have no idea how this blog post will be received, but I owe it to those who are in a worse situation than me, who still don’t know what their future will be like if they were to tell others about it. If you are in that position I can assure you of one thing, telling a person close to you, someone that you truly love, is the best way to get on a road to heal. I am not telling you to go straight to the police if that is a step you don’t feel that you can handle. Take this in doses that you can. The most important thing that I want you to know is that you are not alone. I stand next to you in this battle. I am there with you through every ache and pain, through all of the tears that you shed. You are not alone. You will never be alone. Stay strong my fellow warrior. You are a survivor, celebrate in that. -Lauren Smiley Being brought in an orthodox family in an orthodox country, I had 0 interaction with boys. However that changed when I had to pursue graduation in another state. I used to keep diaries too, where I wrote down my feelings and later on memories of my dates. Unfortunately my local guardian found out my diary among my books and used it to slut-shame me before my parents, and later on, did not return my diary at all. I felt heartbroken to see some family members slut-shame me around my hometown.
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.
When I was in high school, I was “dating” this boy who once asked me to masturbate for him. I refused. He sat there in silence and then informed me that he couldn’t see me anymore because he was a Christian and I was a Heathen. I dated him the next year for a whole year, and it ended poorly. This was 14 years ago. I’m still struggling with finding a balance of being sexually confident but not letting myself be used as a sexual object.
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