I’ve never been raped, or been subjected to any sexual assault. Some might say it was because I never wore revealing clothes, or that I’d never walked alone at night, or that I’d never left a drink unattended at a bar. And they would be wrong. I’ve never been raped because I’ve been fortunate enough that the people around me never decided to rape me.
Much has been said about SlutWalk, it’s objectives and it’s failings. There has been a lot of discussion, and a lot of it angry. Sometimes it seems as if the argument has got so heated both sides have lost sight of the heart of SlutWalk.
Some people just don’t get it. Some people just don’t get that SlutWalk is not just about deluded angry feminists. It’s about putting an end to the way many women (and men and non-binary people) have been made to feel about themselves and their sexuality all these years.
We’ve had enough.
When I was a kid I was taught that girls should be pure, whiter than white. We were taught to say to imaginary boyfriends, “If you love me, you’ll wait until we’re married.” That was our ultimate responsibility; to remain chaste until we became wives.
When things began to get heavy with my first boyfriend the first time, I started to develop a guilt complex so huge that I couldn’t sleep at night, I couldn’t eat without stomach cramps and upsets, and sometimes I felt like I couldn’t breathe. This was even before we actually even had sex. Despite my high school Science lessons telling me it was impossible, I began to develop this irrational fear of pregnancy just from heavy petting. My fear of getting pregnant didn’t come from the fear of being a young unwed mother unable to care for a child. My fear came from the thought that an accidental pregnancy would make it obvious to everyone, especially family and friends, that I’d had sex. That I’d had not acted according to what I was taught. That I had failed. That I was dirty and a slut.
This went on for months, guilt and anxiety and shame always buzzing at the back of my mind. I eventually got so distraught and sickly I had to go to the emergency room where I was told I was having a breakdown. Even then I didn’t articulate to the doctor what was really troubling me. I told him I was stressed out by my school projects. I didn’t want him to know that I was “wrong”.
I didn’t tell my boyfriend either; I didn’t want him to think I was crazy or weak.
I was ashamed of being a slut, and I was ashamed of being ashamed. I’d failed everyone. I was neither a good girl, nor a strong one.
I once told my second boyfriend, “It’s okay what we do, since the first time I gave in I’ve been ruined already so it doesn’t matter.”
He was decent and loving enough to be horrified, and to tell me never to feel that way. By the time I actually came to believe that more than a year had passed and we’d long parted ways.
I’ve had enough.
Or maybe I haven’t, because I’m not quite ready to put my real name to this. Because at the end of the day I’m still petrified by the thought of whether my family would see me differently if they knew I’m not a virgin. If they would be disappointed. If I would have let them down.
This is slut-shaming. This is what women mean when we say we have lived with a culture of slut-shaming. The feeling that somehow you’re worth less just because you’ve not respected the societal norm of being someone’s wife before you have sex. Just because you’ve been “deflowered”. Just because you’ve taken ownership of your body and taken part in a consensual act. Just because you, as a woman, have done something that men do.
“Men like to play around, but they want to marry virgins.” We say that like that’s not awful. We say that like that’s normal. We say that like women are meant to feel that if they want to be more than a man’s plaything, they have to keep themselves chaste, ready and waiting.
We say that like it’s okay. But it’s not, it really isn’t. And people need to understand that it needs to stop. That we need the word ‘slut’ back, because it has been used to hurt us for far too long.
http://theonlinecitizen.com/2011/12/what-it-feels-like-to-be-living-in-a-culture-of-slut-shaming/
Much has been said about SlutWalk, it’s objectives and it’s failings. There has been a lot of discussion, and a lot of it angry. Sometimes it seems as if the argument has got so heated both sides have lost sight of the heart of SlutWalk.
Some people just don’t get it. Some people just don’t get that SlutWalk is not just about deluded angry feminists. It’s about putting an end to the way many women (and men and non-binary people) have been made to feel about themselves and their sexuality all these years.
We’ve had enough.
When I was a kid I was taught that girls should be pure, whiter than white. We were taught to say to imaginary boyfriends, “If you love me, you’ll wait until we’re married.” That was our ultimate responsibility; to remain chaste until we became wives.
When things began to get heavy with my first boyfriend the first time, I started to develop a guilt complex so huge that I couldn’t sleep at night, I couldn’t eat without stomach cramps and upsets, and sometimes I felt like I couldn’t breathe. This was even before we actually even had sex. Despite my high school Science lessons telling me it was impossible, I began to develop this irrational fear of pregnancy just from heavy petting. My fear of getting pregnant didn’t come from the fear of being a young unwed mother unable to care for a child. My fear came from the thought that an accidental pregnancy would make it obvious to everyone, especially family and friends, that I’d had sex. That I’d had not acted according to what I was taught. That I had failed. That I was dirty and a slut.
This went on for months, guilt and anxiety and shame always buzzing at the back of my mind. I eventually got so distraught and sickly I had to go to the emergency room where I was told I was having a breakdown. Even then I didn’t articulate to the doctor what was really troubling me. I told him I was stressed out by my school projects. I didn’t want him to know that I was “wrong”.
I didn’t tell my boyfriend either; I didn’t want him to think I was crazy or weak.
I was ashamed of being a slut, and I was ashamed of being ashamed. I’d failed everyone. I was neither a good girl, nor a strong one.
I once told my second boyfriend, “It’s okay what we do, since the first time I gave in I’ve been ruined already so it doesn’t matter.”
He was decent and loving enough to be horrified, and to tell me never to feel that way. By the time I actually came to believe that more than a year had passed and we’d long parted ways.
I’ve had enough.
Or maybe I haven’t, because I’m not quite ready to put my real name to this. Because at the end of the day I’m still petrified by the thought of whether my family would see me differently if they knew I’m not a virgin. If they would be disappointed. If I would have let them down.
This is slut-shaming. This is what women mean when we say we have lived with a culture of slut-shaming. The feeling that somehow you’re worth less just because you’ve not respected the societal norm of being someone’s wife before you have sex. Just because you’ve been “deflowered”. Just because you’ve taken ownership of your body and taken part in a consensual act. Just because you, as a woman, have done something that men do.
“Men like to play around, but they want to marry virgins.” We say that like that’s not awful. We say that like that’s normal. We say that like women are meant to feel that if they want to be more than a man’s plaything, they have to keep themselves chaste, ready and waiting.
We say that like it’s okay. But it’s not, it really isn’t. And people need to understand that it needs to stop. That we need the word ‘slut’ back, because it has been used to hurt us for far too long.
http://theonlinecitizen.com/2011/12/what-it-feels-like-to-be-living-in-a-culture-of-slut-shaming/
