Welcome to the SpeakOut! Blog

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!

Thank you for Speaking Out! We would love to get your permission to share your testimonial. If you would like to allow your testimonial to be used at a later Speak Out!, please let us know by making a comment or a note in your testimonial.

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.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

10 months ago he raped me. We'd been hooking up for weeks, catching up ater the bar scene, driving home against our better judgement. I slept with him a few times, sure, but one night, I was just too drunk, and told him as much. He shoved his arm across my neck and raped me, telling me what a bitch, what a cunt I was. When he was done I didn't even cry. I went to sleep, and bade him farewell in the morning. I wasn't ready to call it rape. That morning, I told my curious friends about how "he got rough" that night, but I still didn't call it rape. I laughed it off.

Thing is--I'm a feminist. I'm an anti-rape activist. I know just about everyting there is to know about rape-- responses, rape trauma syndrome, denial, shame, coping, not coping, definitions, both legal and moral. But it just didn't click.... "I know how to protect myself, I know my resources, I know that if I'm ever raped, I would do X, Y and Z....but I did B, C, and D... so it couldnt have been rape."

Last May I saw him in his damn graduation gown. He came up to me looking for a congratulatory hug. I had made a point of not seeing him since that night, but here he was. I stood stock still, clearly not wanting to hug this man. And he barrelled over, wrapped his imposing body around mine (so tiny, so quiet), and I felt so enraged that he took that kind of liberty. I burst into tears and ran to the other side of campus. That's when it started pieceing together. Today, 10 months later, I'm calling him out.

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