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.

Friday, November 27, 2020


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Monday, April 9, 2018

Spring 18 2

I was at a party, a year ago. I was enjoying myself, got a little too drunk, and decided I was done being the one left out all the time. Younger than everyone, never kissed a boy, never had any luck with finding boys, I decided enough was enough. When a boy asked me to dance, I said yes. We kissed, and while it wasn't great, I for whatever reason felt empowered and decided I could do anything. I had no need to be the shy, quiet, "prudish" girl. I was feeling myself and when that boy had to leave, I was open to anything. Another one came up not too much later (likely because he saw how easy things were with the other guy) and asked if we could talk outside. I naturally said yes, because with too much to drink and it being hot in the house, who wouldn't say yes? He complimented me, told me how hot I was, and really made me feel special. We started dancing and things got intense, very, very fast. He pushed me up against a way, pinned my hands up with his body so I couldn't move. With his hand he started rubbing up against me, feeling me up. He slid his hands down, farther than just my hips. In this moment I instantly sobered up. I didn't want this. A red alert went off in my head. I wanted it to stop. A friend made eye contact with me and got me out of the situation. The next day when I remembered what happened, I started shaking. Too much, too fast. I stupidly gave him my number before everything started and had to deal with him texting me. I always felt like he could find me. My paranoia grew as I discovered he was in my recitation. Week after week I had to sit with him, knowing he would text me and invite me to parties where I would be handcuffed to him with a bottle of liquor, forced to get drunk with him able to do whatever he wanted to me. I was such an easy target. I was too trusting. I know it's not my fault but I never said no. I regret so much. To this day I'm still scared he'll somehow find me, and continue what he started. Day by day I'm growing stronger. No person should ever have to be scared of being targeted by a predator, forced to see them on campus. Enough is enough.

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

Spring '18 1

There are the monsters, the serial rapists, and those that see us just as walking targets for their sexual domination. Like the 45th president, Donald Trump. Or Harvey Weinstein. Or the relatives who sexually abuse their younger family members.

There are those "one-timers" who somehow think they're less bad.... and sometimes I wonder if they are? These people who just do it once or twice or blame it on blurred lines or alcohol. These people who think pushing just a little harder or trying to convince someone from a no to a yes is okay. Like Aziz Ansari or my high school boyfriend.

And there are people who, maybe they never made someone do anything they didn't want, or maybe they even consider themselves to be against interpersonal violence. But yet they laugh at rape jokes, they support environments where sexual assault is more likely to happen, they don't stop or fight against people they see taking someone way too drunk home or letting their friends think rape culture isn't a problem. Like men in fraternities and the ones who chant "no means yes and yes means anal". And the guys who laugh at those chants. The people who excused the president when he said he grabs women by the pussy and everyone who voted for him. The victim blamers and the people who call women sluts or whores. The people who think a dress or some high heels cause rape. The people who think that alcohol causes rape. People who are not active bystanders and allies to dismantling rape culture and advocating for survivors.

A reminder to those people: complicity is violence.
Rape is violence.
Hostility towards women is violence.
This culture is violence.
 You are part of the violence if you are not doing everything in your power to stop the violence.

End the violence.

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

If you've been to a previous Speak Out, you've heard my story before. You have heard about the years I spent in an abusive relationship where I was stalked, beaten, raped, and threatened. I survived that. I made it through. But I did not realize I would have to survive it all over again. When I came to college, I was coming from a strict and conservative family. One of the first things I did was download Tinder and decide to finally explore my sexuality and casually date. For the most part, it was a lot of fun. I was happy to meet people and it was fun to try new things out. Except for one time. He was a senior, maybe a junior? Regardless, an upperclassman. I'm sure he knew what he was doing going after first-years who just got to campus - and not that I was innocent or virginal or any other thing like that - and not that that matters. But I know he knew he was the cool, experienced older guy who could get me drinks and I could come chill at his apartment. He was (or is? I honestly don't know if he's graduated or not) in some improv comedy group on campus. He had a lame sense of humor that honestly grated my nerves. The type of guy who thought the height of comedy was puns. He insulted my knowledge of comedy and said my favorite stand-up comedians were bad...all the while his greatest jokes were those play on words. He was not my type. But I was trying new things? Maybe I was trying to find a new "type" because the last guy was such a shitty type. That aside, I still decided to go over to his apartment in Courtyard Lofts where he mentioned it was expensive but he can afford it, and he's smart because he's out of state. He was not hesitant to compliment himself. I felt in over my head as soon as I walked in the door. There was a giant bong on the coffee table and empty beer cans all over the floor. I had never even been drunk before but he poured me a too-strong Jack and Coke. We decided to watch a movie...so netflix and chill...but I had actually wanted to watch the movie. Instead, about five minutes in, he tries to roll on top of me and kiss me. Well kissing is fine. I like kissing. But in the middle of it, I felt his hand on my head and him pushing me down. I looked up, trying to give the signal that no, I don't want this, but he smirked and pushed a little harder. "I'm not really feeling that. Sorry" I said and tried to get up. He thought he could talk me into it and even paused the movie to have a conversation about why I should suck his dick. I basically just gave in after about a half an hour into his sales pitch for a blowjob. It was disgusting. I felt like I was going to throw up and it tasted like bad cheese. Yeah, I'm not gonna spare that detail because it was honestly one of the grossest experiences in my life. He held my head down until he finished. Then he graciously walked me to the bus stop. I haven't shared this story before because I had refused to acknowledge I have been assaulted twice. But I have. I am a double survivor but that's a trophy-less feat. Unless you count the shame, the nightmares, the anxiety, and the distrust I have felt by those two assaults. Anyways, I just want to say: Cheese Dick, you don't get to talk people in to sex. You don't get to push someone's head down and force them to do what you want. You don't get to manipulate people and you certainly don't get to assault people.
I’m sorry I didn’t shave. 
I’m sorry my boobs aren’t bigger. 
I slur words out and you slide your hand. Down my pants. Up my shirt. 
Simultaneously apologizing for being too much woman and not enough. 
I’ve forgotten how to do so much in this moment. 
The fireball burned ability out of me. 
I forgot how to hold my head up. 
I forgot how to keep my eyes open. 
I forgot how to say no. 
I forgot to say no. 
I forgot. 

I’m sorry I threw up again. 
I’m sorry you have to take care of me. 
I apologize for the inconvenience I cause while your hands slowly stroke away my autonomy. 
I forgot to tell you I didn’t want you inside of me. 
I forgot to tell you that, yes, that included your fingers. 
I forgot to tell you that, no, just one was not okay. 
I forgot to tell you that this was assault. 
I forgot to tell you that this would haunt me. 
I forgot. 

The fireball made me forget then. 
Now, it makes me remember.