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, 2016 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.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

There was a house party across the street when I was staying at my cousin's house. I was 17 years old. A guy five years older than me started a conversation, and he seemed nice enough. He charmed me with lines like "you're the prettiest girl here" and "I could've gotten with any of these girls, but I didn't," but to tell you the truth, the whole thing made me uncomfortable. I wasn't used to the attention. I didn't know how to say no. The alcohol I had barely masked my discomfort, but he didn't seem to notice. 

Ten minutes later, I was in his truck, his friend driving. His kisses felt strange. I felt no attraction to him at all, and all I could think about was that I was technically cheating on the only boyfriend I ever had in high school. I spoke up, finally, about my boyfriend. "He doesn't have to know." 

In the parking lot of his apartment, I told him I didn't want to do anything, and he said it was okay. I was afraid he would leave me stranded at 2 in the morning. I kept saying I didn't want to do anything, before he lifted me onto his bed, before he pulled my skirt up, before he peeled my ratty underwear off, before the haze in my memory in which I only remember feeling pain. I don't fully remember what happened in the seconds before my rape. It is the only memory I have successfully been able to block out of my mind. But I remember afterwards I stumbled over the bed, confused, and probably made a ruckus tripping over the guitar on the floor. I politely asked him to drive me back, and through the whole ride, he tried to convince me to change my mind by rubbing my thigh and touching me. I felt like I was less than a person. It was 4 am when I got back. I woke up three hours later emotionally numb with this weird tunnel vision, and stayed that way for a month. And even though everyone, including my boyfriend, told me it wasn't my fault that I had been violated, I felt like I shouldn't have been rebellious, I shouldn't have ended up at that party, I should've been more assertive, and all the "should haves" and "shouldn't haves" stayed in the back of my mind while I spent the entire summer before college wishing someone could've taken away the pain. Eventually, I stopped having spontaneous flashes of that memory. I covered it up, in a place that I try not to touch. Maybe one day I can forget the entire thing instead of just the few split seconds that I can no longer remember.

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