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!

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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.

Friday, November 9, 2007

I love children, but they are so small, and they remind me.
“How can I have been so small?” I think when I meet a six-year old. How could he have hurt me when I was so small?

I was sexually assaulted by my next-door-neighbor. His son was a year younger than me, a kindergartener, so we played together constantly. My parents were glad to have me go play at his house.

I don’t remember the first time, but I remember a lot of times. He hid M&M’s around the house and, while the other kids were searching, he led me to his bedroom. At his son’s slumber party birthday, he came in and got under my cover telling me to be quiet so I didn’t wake up the other girl sleeping a few feet away. I remember starring at the dresser next to the bed so I didn’t have to look at him over me. Once we were on his couch, he ignored his son banging on the back door to be let in; he had locked him out on purpose. He never threatened and he never asked.

Once he told me I was beautiful. A first grader! A snotty nose, tangled hair, scrawny limbs, dirty legs and feet, and complete confusion, that was first grade me.

I hate the word beautiful.

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