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So I was 14 when I first had sex, and I thought it was amazing and the boy generally liked me. I hadn't realised the turning points e.g. he'd ask to be snuck in, get drunk, he'd smoke in front of me and never wanted to meet my mom. He blocked me on everything the night we did it and then I went to school. People turned and stared, yelled at me, called me a slut and showed me a video. I didn't know he had recorded it. I moved schools but that doesn't leave you, apparently. After, people continually asked for sex or nudes, all were answered NO. Then my mom started being off with me after she'd seen the video. I had explained what'd happened and she didn't believe me. Then at 15, I came back on snapchat and met someone that meant a lot to me. He didn't live in the same area as me but I'd met him before. He never asked for nudes, but at 15 you're exploring your body more. Masturbation is a fine thing and sometimes, I thought that I'd take photos, and I never sent them. I'd learnt my lesson on that 100%. About 8 weeks later my mom came in. Well, she had my phone, she knew I liked this boy and she'd seen my nudes. She then labeled me a slut and an embarrassment. I understand why she's angry but hearing those words from your mother isn't the nicest, I'll admit. I'm nearly 16 and that's actually the legal age to leave home if you wish and she said well in 7 months, you can f*ck off. -- Purdy
Hi, my name is Katherine, I am 15 and from Canada. I’d like to start by thanking you, Miss Lindin, for everything you are doing for us and for creating this ‘community’ for girls and sometimes even boys, like us, where we can share and understand each other’s experiences and learn for them, and to finally be able to speak about it. Before reading The UnSlut Project I had never really given a thought to the concept of slut shaming. I don’t think I had ever heard of it either. It made me think twice about what I said to others, especially girls, who are most affected by this. As our body changes we sometimes feel vulnerable or powerless towards what happens to us, and a lot of times our confidences decreases immensely and self-consciousness takes over our lives. I had never been a target for bullies. If you would’ve told me last year that I would get bullied I would not have believed you. I had the reputation of a person not to be messed with, but not in a bad way. I just did not let people screw with me or my life and I wasn’t shy to tell you if you did something wrong or if I disagreed with you and if you stepped over the line you would earn a very polite version of go to hell, I do not need people like you in my life. I was very proud of that reputation. Last February, I had my first boyfriend ever. I had never been kissed and the most intimate thing I had ever done with a boy was hold hands… in kindergarten. I did have a couple of friends that were boys though and they were a funny bunch. Back to the point, I had my first boyfriend, and he was wonderful. Very romantic and funny and kind. I think I really did love him. The only thing I did not like was that he smoked pot. Don’t get me wrong I’m not against it; it’s just that I’d rather he did not smoke. The first weeks were wonderful. We shared half of our second semester classes, which is how we met, so we spent almost all day together. Now fast forward to the middle of March. I was leaving on a trip to Scotland and then England, which I had signed up for the year before with a few of my friends. 40 students were selected to go, accompanied by 5 teachers and we were to leave 2 days before March break and come back 2 days before school started again. The trip was to last 9 days. Before I left, I went to say goodbye to my boyfriend, let’s call him Alex, and left for the airport. He promised me he would Skype with me every night and every morning, which he did. The trip was wonderful, it had been my dream to go since I loved and still love English history. But although I was living my dream all I could think about was my boyfriend at home, whom I missed a whole lot. Boy, was I happy to come home. I saw him at school that Monday and I couldn’t have been happier. Only that happiness did not last. The next day I learned that the day before I came back he had slept with some other girl, whom everyone considered the school whore. Honestly, I had talked to her a few times and she was really nice. Only she was very open about what she liked in bed, but who cares. Anyways I learned from my friends, who had been told by the girl in question that I had been cheated on. I was heartbroken and I felt sick. Alex wasn’t saying anything and I couldn’t believe it. I felt like my whole world came crashing down on me faster than I could get cover. The next day, I heard tons of people whispering about what happened and some people even came to me and told me to not worry because ‘they were on my side’. What did that mean? There were sides? The whole situation went out of control and very soon the girl Alex had slept with started getting bullied. ‘Slut’. ‘Whore’. ‘Bitch’. You name it they were all thrown her way. People made it their duty to hate on her in revenge for what had been done to me. I did not like it and honestly, she had and still has the right to do whatever the hell she wants with her body and even if she went and f**cked with a thousand men that wouldn’t have been anybody’s goddamn business. After about a week, of which that girl was absent for half because of the situation, she changed schools because the bullies were too much. Now she is happy and she has a girlfriend and they’re really cute together. I haven’t had the guts to talk to her and apologize for what happened, but that doesn’t matter now. She is happy. The bullying might have stopped there for her, but it only started for me. I tried to remain friends with my ex; that’s what we were before dating and it was good. At the end of March I met my current boyfriend and we started dating at the end of April. Alex got a girlfriend too. Everything was fine and we still talked until the end of school. One teacher asked me on the last day if I knew how to reach him so he could come by and do some make-up project so he wouldn’t fail his English class. When I texted him he started calling me a dumb bitch and annoying and other things which kinda hurt. He’d never really talked to me that way before. My boyfriend, Ben, saw that I was upset about it and asked Alex why he did this. That’s when Alex started saying I was a whore and a slut and a bunch of other mean things. He threatened to beat us up, me and Ben, if he ever saw us in town. The whole summer went by with no word of them which we were really happy about. Until school started this September. The first incident was when Alex’s girlfriend, Mary, tried to push him into me in the hall. I didn’t think much of it; it was just some stupid thing. Then on the second day as they walked past my locker I heard them say: ‘Oh, look! There’s the ugly fat bitch.’ For the rest of the week every time I happened to cross them in the hall, which is very easy because our school is shaped like a square, the called out insults at me. ‘Bitch’. ‘Fat f**k’. ‘Whore’. The next week I got an appointment with the principal. She told me she would talk about it with the educators, but they didn’t do anything. I told my parents and they said it was really not okay. That same night Alex texted me I was a ‘F**king bitch go check yourself at the veterinary’ or something like that. My parents then texted him and told him they would press charges. I don’t where you’re from, but here that kind of bullying is considered harassment and it is NOT okay! To this day they haven’t dared to talk to me. I know that probably some of you have gone through worse, but what happened to me still hurt. I just want to say that I love every one of you who wrote their story on here and have given me the courage to share mine. Thank you. Stay golden, my friends. - Katherine Roy
Yes I trusted the wrong person and I felt guilt when people found out, but I learned to not care.10/28/2019
It all started in middle school. 6 years ago I'll never forget. I was an antisocial nerd that just enjoyed video games and wrestling. I wasn't even sexually active. I only had one boyfriend but that relationship wasn't even serious. I was 13. I was in 7th grade. My story is probably one of the worst, I wouldn't wish this on anyone. So let's start off, shall we? I was bullied in the beginning of my 7th grade year for something completely unrelated to sex. I was bullied in my class because I was different. My uniform was nicely pressed and not trendy like the girls around me. They teased me because of how wide my pant legs were. They said I looked cheap. I was so depressed, everyday I had to brace myself for some more foolishness. Then another girl joined their little group. She went right along with them and she didn't even know me! Why am I saying this you ask? Because those same people "slut" shamed me and got the whole class to do the same. There was a kid in my class named Bobby (not his real name). He was mischievous. He always got in trouble at school. He thought that he was cool. One day I was in class and I bent over to pick up a book. He was gyrating behind me and I had no knowledge of it. The whole class called me a slut because they thought that I wanted him to do it but I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT HE WAS DOING IT! So the girl that I talked about earlier in the story, Alexia, was the first to shout out "Hoe" and the rest of the class followed through. It was a ritual for them to tease me daily. I didn't seem bothered but I was. Then my reputation was so tarnished that in April of 2010, a boy forced me to perform oral sex on him. His name was Johnathan. I didn't want to do it so he grabbed my hair and forced me. I struggled. He was then unsuccessful and threatened to tell everyone that I did it just because I didn't want to. On that day my life changed forever. Everybody including my big brother called me a slut. I tried to kill myself twice. Why you may ask? Because I told the guidance counselor and the teachers and they took no action! That was sexual harassment and it happened on school grounds. I was still a virgin. I wasn't promiscuous. I had no one to turn to. I looked in the mirror and said to myself that I can make it through it all. I went to school everyday. Slut was basically stamped on my forehead. So I wrote 4 books. These books were over exaggerated stories of how slutty I was. I made up fake sexual experiences since people wanted to believe it. I said that I fucked this guy and he didn't even exist (joke's on whoever believed it). I was entertaining the rumors basically because they wouldn't believe me if I denied it. In 8th grade those rumors stopped. Almost everyone that bullied me no longer went to that school. It was like a new life. I dated my long time friend (we lasted 3 1/2 years). Life got better. Until high school... In my senior year I broke up with my boyfriend that I dated since 8th grade. It was my choice actually. So since I was single I wanted to mess around so I slept with a long time friend that went to my school. He lied to me and told me that I could've trusted him and he wouldn't expose my business to everyone so I had sex with him. He told all of my ex's friends including my ex. My got into a new relationship and his girlfriend was spreading these rumors too, but she kind of added more to it. She said that I slept with all of his friends but it was only that one guy. I got into a fight with her over the rumors and ever since then, they ceased but I learned to never be ashamed of being sexual. Yes I trusted the wrong person and I felt guilt when people found out, including my ex, but I learned to not care. I am me. I am not really promiscuous but I love sex. We as women shouldn't feel shame for wanting sex. I was even shamed before having sex! When I actually had sex I was in my mid teens (16, 17, 18) and it wasn't with a lot of people and even if it was, I still wouldn't feel shame. I don't feel guilty that I slept with him because it felt great. I just wish that I could've trusted him. Please don't kill yourself. Please don't feel ashamed! Sex is a part of nature and both sexes are welcome to engage in that activity! Unfortunately for me and where I live I couldn't freely fuck guys without being shamed. It's my vagina, I don't need permission from society to use it. I don't need permission from society about how many people I can use it with. As for my ex, I am not sure if he actually "slut" shamed me but he was disrespectful for even telling his new girlfriend about a lie and allowing her to shame me. He changed as a person. He was such a gentleman when we were dating. Now he's just a horrible person. Never allow your ex or anyone to shame you! - Lynn Joseph
You are not the slurs they throw at you. You are not their ignorance, nor their lack of tact.10/28/2019
My marriage ended for many reasons - judgment, condescension, lack of support, and emotional infidelity - but the reason why I finally loaded all of my possessions into boxes and stacked those boxes into my car was because I wanted to stand on my own as a 27 year old woman, to know what it was like to rely on myself instead of any man, and to explore the world on my own terms, instead of anyone else's. What kept running through my head as I drank and cried and said good-bye to my boy-cat (who'd be staying with my ex) was the line from the Sex and the City movie where Samantha says to Smith: "I'm gonna say the one thing you aren't supposed to say. I love you, but I love me more. I've been in a relationship with myself for 49 years and that's the one I need to work on." I may not be 49, but after dating guys back-to-back-to-back for 11 years, the relationship I need to work on is the one I have with myself. So in spite of how dearly I loved (and love) my husband, I let him make me a final Jack and ginger and give me a final kiss before driving east to my mother's place without music, without tears, without any semblance of even being alive. However, that didn't stop me from making a layover that night at a friend's house for seven rounds of sex. Call me a slut if you want to. It's been implied. Tell me that my decisions are fucked up. That's been said. Silently judge me for what I've done. You wouldn't be the first. That's the thing about divorce: once you decide to have one, everyone in your life decides that this deeply personal and heart-wrenching decision is their property, indeed, public property. If you're not constantly a mess, sobbing over love songs and choking down rom-coms with your Ben and Jerry's, you're not "doing it right." If you want to be single, but not celibate, you're the "cold hard bitch" that Jet sang about in the early aughts. There's something about divorce that's supposed to be completely destructive without being restorative. The recitation of vows and the putting on of a symbolically virginal dress are meant to become thorns in your side, rending your flesh every time you try to function as a normal human being. You aren't supposed to do much more than inhale your ex-spouse's clothing until their scent has evaporated. You aren't supposed to get out of your sweatpants. You aren't supposed to sleep. You aren't supposed to find comfort in the arms of someone else. And yet, in the beds of others, I have discovered that my body is beautiful, desirable. I used to listen to the protests of my ex when he told me that a spoonful of peanut butter was chock full of fat, that I should eat fewer carbohydrates, that I should do more yoga because he preferred my body when it was more toned. In the beds of others, I have been stroked, admired, smiled at, ravished. I have re-learned my worth, silly as it may seem, as a woman. Between the sheets of my lovers, there have been comforting cheek strokes from a friend with benefits and forehead kisses from a recent paramour, each a reminder that there will be love for me one day, that this is not the end. There have been drinks and dalliances and flirtations and fucks that reawaken my body to part of its purpose: to enjoy and be enjoyed. And in between, there is sweetness, caring, and compassion. On more than one occasion, there has even been breakfast. Having a sex life after divorce doesn't have to mean taking endless shots, approaching a black out, and falling into the arms of whoever happens to open them - along with your legs. You can choose partners you trust, decide the terms of your encounter ahead of time, and find yourself comfortably awakening in someone else's bed, completely naked, completely blissful, and completely at ease. There will be pain and tears and empty nights that somehow fill with the darknesses of doubt, loneliness, and scratching, aching slashes at your self-worth. But there will also be evenings where you can search out the part of yourself that is capable of happiness, enjoyment, and worthiness - with friends, perhaps, or at work, but sometimes that fulfillment will come in the arms of another, and it is nothing to be ashamed of. No matter if they call you selfish, or heartless, or stupid, or fucked up, your sexuality is your own to use for whatever purpose you choose. You are not the slurs they throw at you. You are not their ignorance, nor their lack of tact. You are a divorcee, the master of your destiny, and you answer to no one - save yourself. - Liz Lazzara
When I was 13 and going into 8th grade, I was losing a lot of friends and felt lonely, like no one really cared about me/wanted to hear what I had to say. Thinking it was a great idea and like I had no other option, I started hooking up with a lot of guys. Older guys. Older guys who took advantage of me and convinced me to give them blowjobs, handjobs, etc. Over the next year, the number of guys continued to grow, but I made a lot of new friends and even established a stable group of best friends that meant (and still mean) the entire world to me. Now, I'm going into 9th grade. I've hooked up with 23 guys, and the amount of times I've hooked up with people has amounted to 42. Over time, where I live, I've been labeled one of the biggest sluts who is easy and disgusting. This "sick" and "disgusting" reputation has followed me around for the last year, and while I try to earn respect, it never stops. I still continue to hook up with guys. I even lost my virginity and had sex with 2 other guys after that. Now it's just become a normal thing for me, almost comforting, because hooking up with people makes me feel close to someone, cherished, even if it's just for an hour or less. My reputation continues to follow me, and by now, I've just embraced it. Hooking up has become a normal habit for me now.
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
I'm from the wonderful state of Wisconsin. I grew up in a town of around 2,000 people, and everybody knew everybody. Secrets were not kept very well here. I grew up around parents that were very accepting, and that was all I knew. Until I hit middle school. I went through puberty at a very early age, and I looked different. I had large breasts and I didn't understand why people would stare. To me they were just normal and nothing to look at. Upon entering 7th grade I began to get harassed and guys would ask me for sexual favors. When I would say no, they would spread rumors about how I was a whore and how I had STDs. This was really hard for me to cope with, so I began to cut myself to try to handle the pain. I would carve words such as 'slut', 'ugly' and 'useless' into my skin to try and survive the bullying. When it was the summer of 8th grade, I had found a boy who seemed interested in me. Much to my dismay, he was only interested in my body. The first day we hung out, he touched me in very inappropriate ways and talked me into having unprotected sex. I was too scared to say no so all I did was let him do what he wanted. The next day he told me I was a useless bitch and how I would never be loved. He then proceeded to tell all his friends what he did and I lost all my friends. His friends would contact me on social media and call me terrible names and tell me to kill myself. I went through a terrible patch of suicidal thought and began wondering what I did to be hated so much. Luckily, my parents found out and helped me pull myself together. Please, if you're ever feeling suicidal remember that somebody always loves you. There's always help and hope. - Liz Noeske
My story doesn't start in school. It doesn't start anywhere physical in fact. This was a form of cyber-bullying. Extreme cyber-bullying. Most say that cyber-bullying is easy to stop and it doesn't exist. Not this, because believe me, I tried. I was 12 when it started. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I became part of an online community and everyone was older than me. I lied about my age and said I was 15, I didn't want to be treated as a minority because of my age. As I kept the lie going I figured I'd have to act like a 15 year old girl would do, and I had a 15 year old sister, so I started watching her closely to see how she acts. I went to the extreme of going through her phone chats. I saw that she'd sent nude pictures of herself to her ex-boyfriend, and I was only trying to be like her. Someone asked me for a nude picture, and because I didn't want to be different, I sent it. I thought it'd be okay, I thought it would never come up again. Oh how wrong I was. The guy I had sent it to spread it, and someone that got hold of it had a very big grudge against me. He posted it for everyone to see. I wasn't bothered because it was only my butt, and you see them everyday, but I was labelled as "easy." I started to believe it. I started to believe I was easy.
I got into a long distance relationship with an 18 year old, he didn't know I was 12 at the time, he thought I was 15 almost 16. He asked to see a picture of my vagina. I sent it. When we broke up, he leaked the picture, and I didn't think that would still be haunting me, but I still get people coming up to me and quoting the caption (it was sent via snapchat). It really knocked my confidence, so I sent naked pictures of myself a lot, just to feel good about myself. It was a way of coping, it helped me stop cutting. It went too far one day. A boy found my sister's twitter account. He started threatening me and blackmailing me. I couldn't take it. He sent my sister a nude of me and I didn't take it well. That day I tried to kill myself. I couldn't face the fact that I was a "slut." That I sent pictures of myself when I was 12-13. I couldn't face it anymore. Everything had built up so I did it. I overdosed on painkillers. I'm still 13, it has been 2 months since I overdosed and I am getting better. I have psychiatric sessions every month and I'm on the waiting list for therapy. I also must say that Wattpad has helped me a lot too. It made me feel less lonely in a way. It makes me happy. I no longer think badly about myself. I no longer send naked pictures of myself to strangers. I no longer believe that I'm "easy." People change. And I'm glad I did. I am 55 years old now. This has been in my background forever and I have never shared this with anyone but my son's therapist. I was the baby of my family and the only girl. I grew up with my brothers and their friends talking about "those girls", the "sluts" who were easy and had sex. I was first molested by a friend of my oldest brother when I was 5. He fondled me and performed oral sex on me. I was too ashamed to say anything to anyone as only those "sluts" had sex. It happened again when I was 12 and this time it was by a friend of my middle brother. Again I thought I was to blame as only "sluts" had sex. I became very promiscuous and found out that I actually enjoyed sex. I always felt bad I didn't tell anyone because I worried about others that were molested by these guys. I have two children and when they would speak of young ladies and start to refer to them as sluts, I told them just because someone enjoyed sex and determined when and where they would have it did not make that individual a slut or loose or a whore. Both of them, a girl and a boy, knew it was a woman's right to call the shots in her sexual life.
Everyone believes them and that's it. Period. There's no asking me. My answer doesn't matter.10/23/2019
During my whole high school career I had tried to avoid being "that" girl. The girl who puts out easily,who everyone hates because of how many guys she talks to and for some reason people think she has slept with everyone. Going into my junior year of high school, I started to go out and become more social. The first week of the school year I had gone out and got a little bit drunk for the first time. One of the guys there came up and started talking to me and asked if I wanted to go to his car. At the time I didn't know that that meant he wanted to do other things so I agreed. While sitting in his car I started to get sleepy and close my eyes. All of a sudden I felt him get on top of me and start kissing me and touching me. I remember that I didn't really know what was going on because I wasn't completely sober. Fortunately, he did not force me into sexual intercourse. The Monday back after that weekend, a particular guy in my grade who was there at the party and who I think at the time liked me, told everyone what had happened between me and the other guy. I have never felt so ashamed of myself while walking to my other class while this guy and a group of other guys looked and even pointed at me. It was the worst feeling ever. After that time I had gone out with other guys and it was a one time kind of thing, but they had always encouraged the idea of us having sex. I was still a virgin and they knew that. Of course I would say no, and they wouldn't force me into anything, but after a couple of days, there would be talk that I did have sex with them. To me, it was incredibly unfair. I had tried so hard not to give them what they wanted but in the end it was their word over mine. I also felt slut shamed because I didn't do what they wanted me to do, and for that they said that I did do these things. After a while I finally found a guy that I respected and I felt he respected me. We weren't going out for a long time when I decided, at the age of 18, to have sex with him. It was something I chose to do. I knew we weren't in love but we respected each other and that was more important to me. Before having sex, I knew that he heard the rumours of me sleeping with other guys, but I had told him that I was a virgin because that was the truth. When having sex, I didn't really act like the stereotypical "virgin". I wasn't scared of the act and I felt ready for it. After that we stopped talking to each other and I had found out that he had said that he didn't believe I was a virgin, especially after us having sex. It was another moment where I couldn't believe what was going on. Because these other guys just say that I had sex with them, everyone believes them and that's it. Period. There's no asking me. My answer doesn't matter. I want this to stop because it is very unfair that I get blamed and I even feel bad for things that I didn't do! It is an unjust world where in this specific topic, the girls are to blame. - Daniella
When I was younger I felt like the only reason I ever got anybody's attention was because I was "active", (Obviously that's what was happening). No matter how promiscuous someone is, no means no. One night during freshman year my best friend and I had gotten drunk and walked to the high school to watch another friend of ours play volleyball. My phone had been vibrating off the hook with texts from my mom who was pissed I wasn't at home babysitting like I was supposed to be. Eventually I turned to my best friend and told her I needed to go home before I got in huge trouble, and since she wanted to stay and watch, I started to walk home. A little down the street I got a text from this guy I had been crushing on for YEARS. He said he was driving by and asked if I needed a ride home. I said yes. Mostly for my sake, I try not to remember how that night went down, and I ALWAYS remind myself how stupid it was to invite him over. But I honestly did just want to hang out with him. He was a popular guy, and I thought maybe if I could hang with him, I could hang with the others. Except he had other plans. And I spent the next week in the counsellors office, missing all my classes and talking to a certain police officer (I never got to thank him, I certainly would have). But I didn't want to have sex with him, and even though I can't remember everything that happened, I do remember saying no. And I do remember trying to push him off me. And it shouldn't matter that I invited him into my home, because I said no. A few weeks later I found out I was not the only girl it had happened to, and because I came out and told, so did a few others. About the same time as his trial (he was found guilty on all counts) a friend of his messaged me and told me that I was just an ugly slut who got mad when he didn't want anything more than sex. My inbox was bombarded with messages from his friends calling me all sorts of things. So when I showed the police officer, he told me to ignore it, because I knew it wasn't true, and they knew it wasn't true but were in denial. But I still carved 'ugly' into my thigh because that's the only part that stuck with me. And every couple of months I still go over it with a razor because it feels right. Though it's been almost 6 years, I see him around town and I'm instantly taken back to that 13 year old year and I can't help but feel helpless and weak.
When I was 13 I moved from Massachusetts to New Hampshire and for some reason it was made very clear from day one that I was unwelcome by everyone, especially the girls. Suddenly boys started noticing me and they would ask me out, which had never happened before because I was always known as the "bookworm" and for some reason the term "freak" started circulating the school. I was fighting off girls everyday for no reason and one got pissed when I won the fight and said, "It doesn't matter, everyone knows you are a stupid slut anyway." I never understood why she said that because at that point I had never even been kissed by a boy and she didn't know me anyway. That is when the boys started asking me out and I didn't put two and two together until later. It started getting to the point where I was having to fight off being groped in the hallway and three girls at once (because I had no trouble with two, thanks to my father teaching me how to fight, but that is also when I got myself into martial arts). It got so bad with the slut remarks that I went to my counselor and told her I was very depressed and couldn't take much more. Unbeknownst to me right across the way was another school, but it looked like a house, and it was a boys' school but it did have one other girl in it, and I guess it was supposed to be for the kids who had trouble in school for one reason or another. The other girl and I became best friends on day 1 and still are to this day. Unfortunately we had a few friends die for different reasons and one of them was a suicide. The person who had killed himself actually lived with me for a little while and my parents to help him out, because him and his parents were not getting along. They were like my dad and considered the school a failure and both referred to it as a school for "sweat hogs". A few days after he killed himself and after the funeral a bunch of us got together at his parents house and had a party in his honor. Let's just say his dad didn't care we were underage and we did drink and smoke at the time. There was a boy there I didn't know very well but I always had a crush on, but he was with one of the girls who had bullied me beyond belief when I was at my regular high school. He motioned for me to sit on his lap and before I did I asked him, "What about Ellen?" and he had told me they had broken up and I told him thank goodness and did sit on his lap. That night we all told stories about our friend and try to remember the good times and the whole time he was stroking my hair and a few times when tears came to my eyes he wiped them away so gently and I guess I just got swept up in it all. I hadn't even thought about a ride home and because I had been drinking and smoking I did not want to call my parents and he offered me a ride home. To be honest I wasn't really ready to go home, especially when he offered for us to sit and talk at this very romantic spot that everyone went to when they wanted to chat or do other things. We talked for a little while and he was holding my hand and stroking my face and I guess I got caught up in the attention because things were not great at my home, and anyway we made love in the car. I thought it was special and I waited for him to call me but I knew there would be another party celebrating our friend the next day at his girlfriend's house and I knew he would be there. We were all having fun, there was loud music and we were drinking... again... and I remember looking for him all night waiting for him to show up. All of a sudden the room went quiet because someone had turned off the music. I turned my head like everyone else did to see why and it was Ellen! I just remember my heart sinking because she was the one who had started the "slut" rumor and she had tried to fight me and when she lost she would bring another girl with her and then another girl until I couldn't fight so many. She would trap me in the ladies room and call me a whore when I was at the other high school, amongst other things, and to be honest I only had a few friends at this party and the rest of them I did not know and there must have been at least 50 people there. Suddenly my eyes caught the boy I was with the other night standing on the stairs, but he was looking down at the ground. Then she started talking to me so everyone's heads whipped around and were staring at me. I will never forget what she said to this day. I should probably mention that I made the mistake of telling my best friend's friend what had happened with him and I just had a feeling it was a bad idea. It turns out she was Ellen's best friend. Ellen began with, "I heard you are telling everyone that you fucked my boyfriend." Believe me that is not how I worded it to the girl and my best friend, who had been there, since it was her house, since if you have been paying attention there was a reason why it was very special to me. She continued on with the words, "Why on earth would he waste his time with an ugly, disgusting, repulsive, scumbag tramp and slut like you when he has someone like me?" I remember turning to look over at him my eyes pleading for something to come out of his mouth in my defense, and he was still looking at the floor. My best friend was somewhere else in the house or I know she would have said something, so I was pretty much on my own with all these people staring at me and I felt like I had been used, and with everything she had called me I felt like nothing and a fool. Then my eyes caught the girl who I had told and she had a smirk on her face. I couldn't take it because I was so humiliated in front of so many people. I ran up the stairs into the main level of the house and found the master bathroom. I looked through the cabinet for any kind of pills I could take because I knew this girl's mother was on things and I found a bottle of something that said "Take one each night for sleep." From my estimate the bottle was almost full. I took the bottle and put it in my pocket and went into the kitchen and drank as many beers as I could fit into my stomach as fast as I could. I went looking for my best friend but I could not find her. I then began looking through the kitchen drawers for a sharp knife and I saw the kitchen block and grabbed a big knife from there. I went back into the master bathroom and with the beer that was in my hand I took the bottle of pills and began running the cold water in the sink and a slit both my wrists. I then went through the other door that went straight into the girl who owned the house's parents' bedroom and I crawled under their bed. Darkness came pretty quickly and I do remember thinking, thank goodness this will all be over. When I came to in the hospital the doctor told me he had no idea how I had survived. I guess my friend went looking for me and found one of my feet sticking out from under the bed. When she told someone they all panicked and I guess instead of calling 911 they threw me into the back of someone's truck and dumped me on my parents' lawn and took off. They would not let my friend call 911 so she went into the back of the truck and when they dumped me on the lawn she jumped out and began punching and kicking my parents' door and pointed to me on the lawn. I guess the only thing that really saved me was that I didn't manage to cut into my wrists deep enough, so they bled very slowly, but the doctors still said they did not understand how I lived between the pills and the alcohol and my wrists, because they drove right past the hospital to dump me on my parents' lawn. The doctor told me I must have had a guardian angel and at the time I remember laughing and thinking that if I had I would have died. I was in the hospital for a long time between healing and the psychiatric part of it but to this day it still hurts. No one said anything when I went back to my new school but the people who were there, there was only a few of them at the party and those were the ones that were my friends. I just remember to this day the names she called me and all the things she did to me and more than anything that when I looked over to plead with him to help me, he couldn't even look at me or anyone else in the eye. I am sharing this because I regret not being stronger to this day and I don't want this to ever happen to anyone else. I also hope if anything like this does happen to someone else that they don't make the same mistake I did and they do what I should have done and stand up for themselves right when it all starts like I tried to do when I was at the regular high school. When it became too much I feel a little bit like I ran away from the problem when I switched schools but that did help me because there was only 38 of us in the school and none of them treated me like that. I let them call me names and I let it circulate that I was a slut when I wasn't and now, I would have found a way to be a smart ass and own it even if it wasn't true, just to make them shocked and have to figure out something else to call me or leave me alone. I can't say for sure that would have worked or if anything would have worked, and I can't say I don't feel like I ran away when I changed schools but I can say I gave her too much power by doing what I did that night and I bet to this day she doesn't even remember any of it or even me, but I can say I remember her name and I will never forget it. I let the word "slut" make me do one of the most stupid things in my life and I let that simple little word wreck me for a long time. All it is is a word and even if it had been true I should have never let it have the power that it did and neither should anyone else. Thank you for listening to anyone who has read this to the end. - Calissta
Let me start by divulging my age. I am 60 soon to be 61. I saw your story on The Doctors and it struck a chord. I suffered from the damages of the "slut" label while growing up in a southern California resort town, with little supervision, really no supervision. I was pinned down on the beach and groped by boys multiple times; I was 12. My crime was developing too fast, and my other crime was befriending a severely psychologically damaged, obviously sexually abused 12 yr old girl who was gang raped by older boys or as it was called pull the train. I was actually on a boat with her and my 12 yr old boyfriend when it happened. I panicked and one of the older boys took the two of us back to shore but left my friend behind. I have know idea how many times this scenario played out but it was many. What a sad creature with the dead look in her eyes. It was rumored she committed suicide. This event as well as the sexual abuse inflicted upon me by my father from age 6 to 9 shaped my self image and my behavior. I've never really recovered and have had many disastrous relationships but now at this age I am finally free, I don't need sex, I don't want sex, I'm free to never tolerate abusive behaviors that I used to tolerate because I was searching for love in all the wrong places. Now after raising five children and just starting grad school in marriage and family counseling, I'm not only taking control of my own life but reaching out in the hopes of making a difference in women's lives who have been there and are struggling to get back into life again. Being labeled a slut in middle school when girls are at their most vulnerable is a devastating thing to happen, even more so in today's digital world. I hope my story puts a different perspective on the topic. This is not a new phenomenon. - Allison Greer
I was slut shamed when I was 13-15 years old. I am now 35. I overcame it. When I was 13, I wanted to be liked because I didn't get the attention from my parents that I needed. A boy acted like he liked me and talked me into meeting him. When I meet him he had his best friend there and talked me into sleeping with both of them. After that the entire group slut shamed me. I was never the same. I became very depressed and lost many friends. Eventually I became very promiscuous, trying to prove to myself that I wasn't a slut but that I could be sexual and it wasn't a bad thing. I love what you are doing! I have 3 daughters and I don't want what happened to me to happen to them. - Regina
I grew up in a very small town in Arkansas. In high school I was always well liked. I was a cheerleader and a very advanced student. I always did my schoolwork, maintained a near perfect grade point average, participated in cheer, choir, and several other clubs, served on the prom committee, etc. I never got into trouble and I followed my parents' rules. I had a serious boyfriend from age 14 to age 16 and he was my first love. We did a lot of "making out" in those two years, and while some of my friends were already having sex, the Christian based morals and values I'd been raised with kept me from giving into the pressure. After my boyfriend and I broke up I was devastated. I spiraled into a pretty severe depression. I developed an eating disorder and became extremely underweight (72 lbs was my lowest weight at age 16). That's when my next boyfriend entered the picture. He was tall, smart, funny....and he did and said all the right things. Told me I was special and beautiful and bought me flowers and expensive jewelry. One night he picked me up to go watch movies with him at his house. My parents asked if his parents were home and he said they were. When we got to his house, I discovered his parents weren't home and would be gone overnight. I expressed my discomfort with the issue but he convinced me to stay and watch a movie with him. As it tends to do with teenagers, watching a movie led to a heavy make out session. He kept asking me to take my underwear off and was trying to convince me to have sex but I kept telling him no I don't think I'm ready for that. At one point he excused himself to the bathroom (I later discovered this was to put a condom on). When he came back he jumped on top of me, ripped my underwear off, and forced himself inside of me. All the while I kept saying, "Please stop. I'm not sure I'm ready for this!" And his response as he entered me was "Well you're sure now." My self esteem was so low at this point in life that I convinced myself nothing wrong had happened and I stayed with him for several months after this. He became very controlling and abusive...pulling my hair out, burning me with cigarettes, calling me a slut or whore if I dressed nice at school or anytime I wore my cheerleading uniform. I never told anyone about the rape or abuse...I suffered in silence. Somehow, I finally found the courage to leave him but his abuse and the rape left its mark. I went wild partying and dating several boys that summer. The relationships I had with men after that were all centered around sex and by the time I came back from summer break for my senior year of high school, everyone in school was talking about me and what a SLUT I was. In reality, most of them had had many more sexual experiences than I had, but the fact that I had gone wild and partied and started dressing and acting different made them think differently of me. The rape and abuse were bad enough, but now I was being sexually bullied by my classmates. I will never forget what happened to me as a teenager. I worked through it and attended therapy as an adult to keep it from affecting my sexual relationship with my husband once I got married. I feel that it has shaped me into who I am and made me a stronger woman, but if I could spare any girl from going through what I went through, I would. You don't have to suffer in silence. You don't have to be ashamed. My hope is that, someday, women and men will be treated equally when it comes to sex. That we will no longer be shamed for the same things men are glorified for. Sadly, we still have a long way to go. - Erin
During the first week of my Freshman year of high school, I got my first boyfriend. We went to the free movie night that the city park held every weekend during the summer, and neither one of us could tell you what the movie even was because we were making out in the grass, a tangle of arms and legs and lips all mashed together. It was terribly romantic. In retrospect, I feel bad for the horde of friends that were sitting near us having to listen to our sloppy make-out session for two hours. After the movie, he and I went off to find somewhere more private because I wanted him to touch my boobs without people looking at us. He told me that his parents were out of town, so we went to his house. When we got there, we were making out some more, and I let him touch my boobs, and then he asked if we could have sex, and I said that I guessed it was okay, as long as we used condoms because I was way too young to be getting pregnant. He didn't have any, and couldn't find where his parents stashed theirs, so I told him no way. That's when things started to go downhill. He held me down and rubbed his crotch on mine and begged me to let him have sex with me. I kept saying no, and asking him to let me up but he wouldn't. After awhile, it became apparent to me that he had no intention of letting me go until we had sex, so I finally gave in. I knew that what he was doing was rape because he didn't stop when I said to stop, and that I hadn't really consented because he forced me, but unfortunately, many high-schoolers are not so enlightened, including him.
After it happened, I asked him to please not tell anyone what we did, and he agreed. The next day at school, I walked into the classroom where we shared a class with a lot of our mutual friends, and he was already there talking to a huge crowd of male friends. They were pressing him to find out how far he'd gone with me, and he said, "She made me promise not to tell." They said, "THAT MEANS YOU DID IT! You had SEX!!!" and then he said, "Yeah, we had sex!" Right then, my fate was sealed, and I'd be known as a slut for the rest of the time I went to that school. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die because now he'd told everyone who saw us sucking face all night that we'd had sex, and there was no chance anyone would believe me if I told them I hadn't wanted it. It was then that I resolved that, since "no" couldn't stop a guy from taking advantage, then I just wouldn't say "no" anymore. You can't rape the willing, right? That philosophy of mine tainted every sexual partner I had from then until I was 18, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our relationship was a rocky one, constantly on and off. When we were "on," he treated me like an afterthought. I was pretty much a warm hole for him to put his dick in. When we were "off," he'd tell all of our friends that I was crazy, slutty, overemotional, and a bitch. Only one or two ever saw through all that bullshit, although they still didn't believe me when I told them that he had raped me. They didn't think that I'd want to get back together with him over and over again if that were true. In reality, his forcibly taking my virginity made me feel like he owned me, or at least a part of me, and I wasn't complete without that part that he had, so I had to be with him so I could be whole. Towards the end of Freshman year, I started dating a senior. Red flag 1: He wanted us to be a "secret." Red flag 2: He didn't like me hanging out with my friends because "they're so immature and I don't like them and you're better than them." Red flag 3: If I got a text message while I was out with him, he would take my cell phone and read it and if it was from someone he didn't like, he'd keep my cell phone until he dropped me back off at my house. A bajillion red flags to top it off: Even though he told me I was "too good" to hang out with MY friends, when we hung out with his friends, I was "the little slut" and the "dick-sucking whore." I laughed along with them when he and they would refer to me as such, and when his friends would ask to touch or see my boobs, HE was the one who gave permission. I wasn't even asked. I went along with it, though, because I thought if I don't say "no" then it's okay, but if I DO say "no" then they'll just ignore me and it will be bad. (Terrible mindset.) After 3 months, he broke it off with me because I was "too clingy." (Of course I was too clingy. He isolated me from all my friends and made it so he was the only person I felt safe around. Ironic, since he was the person who was making me unsafe to begin with.) My sophomore year was marked by another on-off relationship, but that relationship was actually pretty good. While we were together, he always respected my wishes, and while we were apart, he refrained from trash-talking me or trying to turn my friends against me. The REAL problem in my sophomore year was with the on-again-off-again-boyfriend of my friend, let's call her "Trish," who, during what I THOUGHT was one of their "off" phases, (and during one of my off phases with my Sophomore on-off boyfriend) Trish's boyfriend expressed interest in me. It turned out that they were officially "on," but Trish wasn't putting out because every time she did, they broke up, so she was holding out so that he would respect her more. (LOL riiight.) So, he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride in his car, and I agreed. While he was driving, he asked if I would give him road head, and I didn't see the harm in that (MORON! Talk about distracting the driver!!) so I did. When we got out to.... the middle of freaking nowhere... He asked if I'd ever done anal, which I hadn't. He asked if I wanted to, and I said no. Then he asked if I would. That's when my can't-rape-the-willing-so-always-be-willing mindset kicked in, and I said yes. It hurt REALLY BAD because 1) I'd never done it before. 2) His dick was HUGE. 3) Neither one of us knew enough about anal sex to have any LUBE!!! I started crying almost right away, and he asked if I was okay, and I said "It just hurts," and he asked if I wanted him to stop, and I didn't say anything, so he kept going. The next day at school, Trish slapped me across the face and called me a slut, whore, bitch, etc. Every name in the book. She told me that she new I had cheated with her boyfriend and that I'd let him have anal sex with me and that made me a dirty skank. I tried explaining that I'd thought they were broken up. He TOLD me they were broken up! She told me that they weren't broken up, but even if they were, I knew that Trish loved him, so how could I even think of doing anything with him??? Of course, she forgave him, but she never, ever forgave me. I lost a couple of other friends over that, too, because they agreed with her: You DON'T EVER sleep with a friend's ex. Trish's boyfriend still talked to me. But from then on, that's all we did. We actually got to be quite close friends. Whenever Trish was mad at him, we'd talk about what a bitch she was. My junior year of high school, I moved back to my hometown to live with my Dad. My reputation didn't travel that far. I kept a low profile there, and didn't have too many boyfriends. My senior year, I got together with a very kind boy in my own grade. I am ashamed to admit it, but I was pretty cruel to him. I like to blame it on the fact that I was so abused in many of my relationships prior, and that was just how I knew to be IN a relationship, but it's also partly because I just didn't respect him. He was taking 11th grade English in one of his elective slots because he'd failed it the previous year. I was a straight-A student without even trying. I never saw him as my equal, but in kindness, heart, and compassion, he outstripped me BY FAR. Anyway, I spent Spring Break back where all the trouble happened. I texted Trish's boyfriend to see what he was up to, and he told me that he and Trish had broken up again and he thought it was for good that time and all he wanted was to have sex with someone else and forget all about her. He wanted me to have sex with him. I told him that I couldn't because I was in a relationship and wouldn't cheat. He kept on asking and asking over and over, just like my Freshman boyfriend, but this time, it was over text messages. He couldn't hurt me, or so I thought. I believed I had the power. Finally he gave up and asked if I would just come hang out with him. It was around 2 A.M., so I had to sneak out to meet him. I got into his car, he drove out to the middle of nowhere, and he raped me. There wasn't even the illusion of consent that time. Of course, he told me that if I told anyone, he'd tell them I was lying, and nobody would believe me because we'd done it before, I was KNOWN for being a slut, and I snuck out of my house to meet him in the middle of the night of my own free will. I got back to my hometown, and my boyfriend, I couldn't even let him touch me. I felt so awful. I felt used, abused, and I hated what had been done to me, but I also felt GUILTY for letting it happen. What did I expect, sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet someone who I KNEW wanted to have sex with me? I got into his car on my own. I should have known what would happen. My boyfriend found the text messages, which included things from Trish's Boyfriend like, "You liked it last time," and "Come on, we're great together, and nobody has to know." And things from me like, "You know I'm sexually attracted to you, but you also know I have a BOYFRIEND," and "If I were single, it would be different. I would fuck you in a heartbeat." So he drew the only conclusion that made sense to him: I'd cheated. He confronted me. At first, I was just angry that he went through my phone. It was a violation of privacy, and he should have trusted me enough to not do that. When he countered by saying that I wouldn't have a problem with it if I didn't have something to hide, and who was this guy anyway, and was he better than (senior boyfriend) and was that why I hadn't wanted him touching me, because this other guy was so much better than (senior boyfriend)?? That's when I broke down crying and told him the whole story. Before that, he hadn't even known about my freshman year. I never claimed to be a virgin, but I hadn't told him that I wasn't, either. He was SO kind, and SO understanding. He told me OF COURSE a "yes" under coercion didn't count as consent. OF COURSE I had the right to trust a long-time friend, and OF COURSE it was not my fault that my trust, and my body, had been violated. We ended up breaking up after senior year when I went off and joined the military, and he flunked BOTH his English classes, and a history class, and had to repeat senior year. He did help me tremendously, though, in taking back my ability to say "no." Hearing confirmation of what I'd always thought to be true, but still doubted because nobody, not even my own mother, believed me, and FROM a sexual partner, made me realize that I was allowed to say no. And that anyone who ignored the "no" and forced a "yes" was a rapist. I did not deserve to be raped. I did not deserve to be called a slut because I was raped. Nobody deserves to be called a slut. 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. I came from a large city and a large high school in what some people would consider a very liberal area. Because of the size of my school and the socially liberal views of the student body, there were different kinds of interpersonal relationships across the school that were accepted, for the most part, by everybody. I personally was in a committed relationship for about 2 years throughout my time in high school. Then I went off to study music performance in college. I broke up with my boyfriend, and started a new life as a freshman at a school far away from home with very different ideals than the ones that came with the liberal environment that I was used to. The music school was small, about 200 students out of the 6,000 undergraduates that went to my school. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew everyone else's business. I adopted a fairly cavalier attitude about intimate relationships; I was young, I had just gotten out of a long relationship and I wasn't ready for anything new, and I wanted to have some fun. Some people were uncomfortable with my sexually liberal views. They first called me "crazy", and after I had slept with two different guys in the music school, a "slut". I doubt that it had as much to do with the number as it did with my attitude toward relationships and the casualness with which I conducted them. A lot of my peers didn't share my same views and judged me because of that. Jealousy was also perhaps a factor, as I didn't have any reservations about walking up to people and introducing myself. In the end, being called a slut doesn't bother me too much. I came to school to perfect my musical skills and as long as I keep performing at a high level, I'm happy with that. My friends know who I really am and that's what matters. Those who care to think otherwise aren't worth my time. It's nice to come from a big city because you learn to have a tough outer shell. You learn not to care what others think of you. At the end of the day, as long as I know that I can look at myself in the mirror and know that I have stayed true to myself, that's what really matters. But for a lot of young women, the word "slut" affects them much more than it does me. The word is damaging and hurtful, and it tells these strong, beautiful girls that they are not deserving of respect. It can break girls down and ruin their happiness, pride, and their sense of confidence. This why I will never condone the usage of the word "slut", "whore", or any derogatory term specifically aimed at women. All girls are worthy of respect. - Kelly
When I was in college (aged 16-19, I live in the UK) I was sexually active and more so than most of my friends. Although I did have one or two more meaningful relationships during this time, the majority of my sexual encounters were casual, and I was OK with that. I wasn't interested in starting a serious relationship at that age because I felt I was too young, but I enjoyed sex. All of my sexual experiences at this age were safe, consensual, and mutually enjoyed. However, I was labeled a slut for exploring my sexuality, whilst the guys I had relationships with were congratulated for it. I guess that's when it really started to piss me off. I remember talking to one of my friends about this and they explained it as thus: "A lock that can be opened with a number of keys is a shitty lock, but a key that can open any lock is a master key"... the keys being men and the locks being women. Women have sexual desires just like men do. But if we have the audacity to express or explore those desires, we become sluts. Damaged goods. Shitty locks. - Charlotte
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. I just want to share a message to all the girls who think that they will be called a slut or a whore because they choose to have sex with someone: who the hell cares? Especially those of you in high school. Trust me when I tell you this, the people making fun of you are only doing it to make themselves feel better. And guess what? They won't matter once you graduate. My first year of college I was called a slut and a whore because I liked to go out and party and hook up with random guys. It was fun for me, I was having fun. And it was mostly guys calling me those names. I learned to embrace it. I learned that slut and whore are just words. Nothing else. They do not define who I am or the type of person I will be. They are simply words. I eventually got a boyfriend while I was in college and all his football teammates were pretty much harassing him for "dating a slut". Like are you kidding me? When I found out what they were saying I was hurt, but eventually I learned that those words mean nothing. His friends were surprised when we were still together for a month or two (we are going on a year and a half now) because I "used to be such a slut." It doesn't matter what people say. As long as you know that you are an amazing, powerful, intelligent, and strong woman (and yes, you really are), you can conquer anything.
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.
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 was the slut just for taking about sex openly and without shame with my "friends". Some ugliness came of it. I got blamed by these so-called friends when men I didn't even know sexually harassed and sexually assaulted me because somehow they must have known what a slutty slut I was. It was my "sexual energy" that brought this abuse on me. And here I am, so stupid, just thinking I'm living my life walking around out in the world going out with friends like a normal person, but really I was just being a slut. - Kristen B
My story may be found to be different than most others on this website, but I could not pass up an opportunity to share one of the most important events that has shaped me into the woman I am now. I was in middle school when the name calling started. Slut, whore, hoe, etc. were all things I was used to hearing my name associated with. It was strange, however, because until the 9th grade I had never even done anything but kiss a boy. I am a cheerleader, dancer and very outgoing. All of which brought on jealousy from other girls and sexual thoughts from the boys. However, this is not what I was aiming for. My passion was cheerleading and just because I wore a tight skirt or liked to dance at parties did not make me a "whore". What supposedly did make me a "whore" was the casual sex I enjoyed having throughout my junior and senior year of high school. I stayed safe, used protection and always knew the person I was engaging in sexual activities with. Or so I thought. My senior year I was involved with a friend of mine who had always been dating a different girl that I wasn't so fond of. But, that didn't stop me because I started to really like this kid. We would go out, get drunk, have sex and I would wake up the next morning and not remember anything. That was okay, though... Right? Wrong. After rumors flew of a "sex tape" my boyfriend and I had supposedly made, things went downhill... Fast. We broke up, he went back to his ex-girlfriend, and there I was again, lonely with rumors flying. This seemed to be a pattern in my life, but I gave the rumors no attention. I had never made a sex tape! Until November 15th of 2013, when my ex boyfriend showed his entire class the tape, pictures of me and other girls he had saved on his phone. Not until a friend confronted me about why I had been "lying" did it all hit me. The next few days, the story was on local news, his mugshot was being displayed on everyone's phone, and my school had even put together an "anti-sexting" video to show district wide. I had drunkenly and unknowingly "made a sex tape" with a boy that I trusted. Someone who had told me they loved me over and over again. Someone who was a friend. The worst part is that even though this boy was charged with Sexual Exploitation of a Minor to the 2nd and 3rd Degree, I was still the one being called slut, whore, liar, porn star, etc. He had completely taken advantage of me and I was the one being blamed for his arrest. This has haunted me to this day and I will always feel some sort of guilt for what happened, because I never wanted to get him into any sort of legal trouble. I was completely unaware of what had even happened. I wanted to share my story, because sex shaming is something that needs to be addressed and every woman who has faced this issue deserves to be heard. We stand together. - Stevie Little
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