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 first fall Speak Out! in October 26th, 2017 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.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Despite the pain they’re filled with, so many of these posts are beautifully written. I’ve always wanted to turn my hurts into something hauntingly lovely in its fucked-up-edness, Lolita style, but my story still feels ugly. Enough for now just to write it down.

For three years, beginning when I was fifteen, I was in a verbally, and occasionally physically, abusive relationship. We believed that we loved each other and that we would get married, and it never occurred to me that abuse happens even in high school, even in your first relationship, even when you are practically still children. When I was with him I felt dirty and empty and useless and scared, and I didn’t realize how wrong it was until years later. That’s not really the problem anymore, though; just how the problem arose.

The problem is that in fictional portrayals, the abused girl realizes her strength and immediately finds a man who respects her and loves her – when from what I’ve seen, bad relationships are followed by self-loathing, sexual recklessness, and shattered confidence. I know that I have not had it nearly as hard as many of the people posting to this site. I know. But too many times I’ve woken up the morning after and cried on my floor, brushed my teeth, scrubbed my skin, and brushed my teeth again. Too many times I’ve been too scared and confused to try to say no, or I’ve been ignored when I do. Too many times I’ve been screaming in my head and not known how to scream out loud.

My body is mine and I want it back. You can’t touch it unless I want you to, and if I don’t want you to, don’t try to convince me. I’m sick of not feeling like I can respect myself and I’m sick of not feeling like others should respect me.

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