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Break the silence that surrounds sexual assault, sexual harassment, interpersonal violence, relationship abuse, stalking, hate crimes, and identity-based violence. Share your story here on our anonymous blog.

To speak about an experience with any form of interpersonal violence is difficult, but it is also empowering. Breaking the silence reduces shame and helps others to speak out about their own experiences.

End the shame. Be empowered. Speak Out!

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We are holding our spring Speak Out! on April 16th, 2018 from 7-9 pm in The Pit. For more information, check our Facebook page.

Because this blog features stories of interpersonal and sexual violence, we offer this *content warning* as a way of caution. We also ask that you do not reproduce any of the content below, as the authors of these personal stories are anonymous, and cannot give consent for their stories to appear anywhere other than this blog or at a Project Dinah-led SpeakOut event.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Worse Than Algebra

Summer had long past. Even the fresh smell and crinkle of the autumn leaves had long since disappeared. The floors were covered in an inch of dirt and yesterday’s assignments. Pencils scratched notebook paper and rumors ran rampant. A girl wearing a letter jacket covered in honors patches, cleats slung over her shoulder, stands with members of her soccer team in the hallway.
“Will you come with me?” uttered a stern voice.
“Where?” she answered mockingly, spinning in the direction of the voice. “Oh, I mean yes,” she replied, her tone changing as her eyes meet his face.
The walk seemed longer than the distance being covered. The rubber of his shined shoes squeaked on the tile floor as they made their way down the hall. She looked down at her own shoes, dirty and worn.
“Please shut the door,” he said motioning with his hand. “Do you know why you are here?”
“No,” she answered, shocking him.
“You haven’t heard anything?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“First, you must understand that this is a serious matter. I need to ask you some questions and I may need to record your answers,” his voice reminded consistent, but his eyes softened. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, but I am still a bit confused.” She watched her reflection in his shiny buttons. Her tangled hair and wrinkled sweater made her look like a small child, especially in comparison to his pressed uniform.
“I don’t mean to scare you, but this has to be done to protocol.”
“Yes, I understand, but what is this about?”
“We have heard some rumors,” he said staring her in the eyes, “about you.”
“Rumors about what? ” she asked out loud, questioning herself.
“I have to ask you some questions regardless of whether or not I think they are true,” he continued ignoring her question. “Some of them may offend you, that is not my intention, but I am required to ask you, ” he said quickly, as if he wished he hadn’t said it all.
She paused caught in her own thoughts, “ok.”
“Regarding your coach, has he ever… ”
She froze, her ears only choosing to hear portions of the phrase. “No!” she answered, nearly yelling, before he had even finished.
“I know this is difficult, I don’t like having to do this either, but I have to,” he wanted to comfort her, but acknowledged his job. “Are you sure there is nothing you need to tell me?”
“No!” she said abruptly. “Nothing,” she repeated.
“That is an official statement- you understand that, correct?”

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