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, January 22, 2013

The night started off innocent. Just talking at a party. He seemed nice enough. The alcohol made me bolder, more assertive, and made him more attractive. Talking turned into dancing, turned into me bringing him back to my room. Next thing I know, theres a boy in my bed, and I'm saying no. But the thing is, he keeps hearing yes. I say no when he shoves his fingers inside me so forcefully that it causes me to cry out in pain. I say no as he pushes down on my head, like he's dunking me underwater, and forces his penis into my mouth. I say no as he starts to put a condom on. I say no as I try to push him off, try to keep him from pulling my underwear down, but he's stronger than me. I say no as he forces himself inside me. Immediately after he stops and I breath a sigh of relief as I realize he's finally given up. "Ok" he says. "We can stop." But only on his terms. I hate myself for going against my better judgement. I hate myself for bringing him back. I hate myself for not saying something to my roommate, who was 10 feet away in our common room, on the other side of the closed door. I hate myself for not fighting him harder. I just hope someday I'll be able to stop hating myself.

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