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.

Saturday, September 28, 2013

The day after graduation, every high school senior in my county went to Myrtle Beach. It was the first night there and possibly my third time ever getting drunk. A friend and I showed up at the house of some of our other "friends" and were quickly led into the basement with two guys. The girl I was there with disappeared and I was left alone in the nastiest, darkest basement I could have imagined in a beach house with "a guy from one of my classes." 

Despite repeatedly saying no, asking him to get off of me, asking why people were watching--I couldn't get him to stop and I was too confused to really understand what was going on. He offered to get me high, which I thought would make him fall asleep and get the fuck off me, but it only encouraged him more. I thought I was a bitch for not making him happier-for denying him the right to just use my fucking body.

I finally gave in, thinking that I was just being a cunt, and when someone walked in on us I had a panic attack. As I groped around on the disgusting floor crying, unable to breath, desperately trying to find my clothes and get out, he continually kept telling me that I wasn't being fun, that I came to beach week to have a good time, and he didn't understand why I wouldn't want to fuck him. He took my clothes, threw me back on the bed, and proceeded to fight with me. I don't remember how, but we ended up fighting for the doorway. Each time I grabbed the knob, he would just slam it shut and continue him "fun" speech, seemingly unaware that I falling apart. It wasn't until my friend started looking for me at the door that he let me leave and we immediately walked outside and began our walk up a busy road at 2 in the morning. He had the audacity to text me "hey" the next day.

I let this get to me for two years. I came to college completely unable to cope and failed multiple classes (partially because I just never wanted to get out of bed). I couldn't explain the gravity to anyone and I thought it was my fault for giving in, for the way that I let it affect my grades, and for the few people who made me feel like I wasn't truly raped. 

This semester marks the beginning of a new life for me and I want to encourage everyone that I can to get past their pain. We're more than the things that have happened to us.

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