Your UnSlut Project

Submitted by Anonymous

The act of "slut" shaming, I found out, is not actually classified to straight, young women. In fact, I learned the hard way that the slut shaming attacks can hit anybody.

This hard lesson was taught to both me and my lesbian girlfriend, Beth, when we were in our freshman and sophomore years at high school.

Now, some background information on the both of us:

Beth was, and is still, the biggest fan of cross country running and track. She's been running marathons since she was eleven, and participated in our middle school and high school's cross country team. The sport was huge at both schools, so Beth was respected and beloved in middle school as the Girl's Varsity all-star cross country runner. This gave her a lot of female friends, and even more guy friends. She could also be a bit over-dramatic, but I didn't really mind it.

Now myself. My name is Jennifer, and I am not what you would call a "runner". I did play softball until freshman year, but absolutely despised running laps after practice with my teammates. I was my team's catcher, however, so my slowness was never really noticed. You never really see a catcher running after the ball, unless either the pitcher or the third baseman is well and truly awful. I didn't have as many guy friends, but my apparent curviness and "huge tits", as they were crudely dubbed, put me in the frustrating situation of guys forever flirting with me or trying to ask me out. Because of my (amazing) gayness, this was both uncomfortable and embarrassing.

Now, back to our story.

Beth and I had started dating in our eighth grade year, and couldn't be happier. Our parents were open to our sexuality, as well as most of our family members, and most of our classmates understood our situation. It was one of the best years in my school career, in my opinion.

But then high school struck, as did the extreme and weird phenomenon known as "puberty". Beth, already one of the tallest girls I knew, grew about two inches. I went from "short and kinda fat" to being one of the more attractive girls in my freshman class. Both of us had also decided that we would wear makeup to school on our first day. It was the biggest event of our teenage lives, after all!

So that morning, when I walked into school for the second time (my older brother was a senior at the school), almost immediately I ran into William, one of the boys in my eighth grade class. He had grown over the summer too, and probably thought that he was now God's gift to women.

He immediately started to hit on me.

I tried to make polite conversation. We talked about what had happened with us over the summer, and if I had played on the Parks and Recreation Softball Team (which I had.) Eventually, the topic went to the back to school dance that the school was having on Saturday night.

"So Jen, do you wanna go to the dance with me?" He asked. We were walking to the auditorium for the beginning-of-year speech from the schools' vice principal. I had been texting Beth like mad. She was never late for anything, but today of all days she was late for the FIRST DAY! Beth wasn't answering my texts either.

So I wasn't really paying attention to what William was asking me, so you can judge me if you think my response was rude. Honestly, it was one of those "accidentally not paying attention and then I said something insensitive" moments.

"You? Nah," I said, and paused. William had a hurt look on his face, and immediately I tried to repair the damage.

"I didn't mean it like that!" I stuttered, "It was just - you know I'm still going out with Beth, and it's just -"

He interrupted me with a raised hand. The hurt on his face had been replaced with anger.

"You're still fingering that slut?" He almost yelled. The people around us stared. I didn't know how to react to the verbal assault. Nobody had ever directed such unkind words at me. But William kept talking.

"You know everyone thinks that you're only doing this because you want attention, right? So dudes will want to get in your pants?" He sneered, and stomped away.

I was stunned. Where did THAT come from? Never before had I done anything to William. Heck, we'd only talked a few times. And I thought I was cool with everybody else. As I looked for a seat in the bleachers and sat down in the highest row of them, I wondered what had happened over the summer to make William, and "everyone" think these things.

I didn't see Beth at all that day, but I heard people talk about her, and me.

A group of girls who'd been on the Parks and Rec. team with me were whispering about how Beth and I had threesomes with senior guys, and that a bunch of football players on the team admitted to us doing it. A few of my teachers actually narrowed their eyes when I caught their gaze in the halls. Needless to say, I was a little confused, as well as more than a little scared. I wouldn't even want to sleep with those senior football guys. I was a freaking lesbian!

After school, when I was in the safety of my own bedroom, I called Beth's number. The first time, I got no answer. It was the same with the second and the third time. But on the fourth try, I heard Beth's voice, stuffed and shaky, answer me.

"Jen, oh my gosh!" I heard her stammer, "I had the worst day!"

I very nearly laughed. She had had the worst day? She hadn't even gone to school! But I curbed my frustration, and played the supportive girlfriend.

"What happened?" I asked, "I was really worried about you!"

"I know, I know," Beth sighed shakily, "But I just couldn't go to school."

"Why not?" I asked, worried. Had people been bothering her as well?

"Georgia, you know Georgia? She was in the other eighth grade class? She texted me, saying that everyone thought that I was a huge whore, because the senior football guys are saying that we had threesomes and foursomes and "disgusting gay orgies" and shit."

I could have thrown my phone. What the heck was their problem? We weren't straight, so what? We weren't bothering them last year, or that day, so neither of us could figure out where all the hate was coming from.

"Did you say anything back?" I asked. Georgia wasn't exactly nice, but still. This kind of behavior from her was weird.

"Yeah, I asked her why everyone was saying this, and she just said that everyone needed to know that we've done these terrible things, and then she said that Mr. Viet (our high school's principal) was going to call us to his office and expel us!"

This was icing on the cake. I hadn't ever been slut shamed or hated on or anything like that. Ever. So this sudden rush of homophobic hate was overwhelming. Usually, Beth relied on me to make the "emergency decisions". She was a type A personality, and tended to panic and not think with her mind, but with her emotions.

So I said the only thing that I could think of at the time.

"Maybe we should wait it out for a bit," I suggested, "And if it doesn't stop, we'll tell our parents."

And that was that. We both went to school the day after, and it was the same song and dance. People called out mean things to us in the crowded halls, and glared at us when they were nearly empty. People would whisper "carpet muncher" and "slut" at me when I gave an answer to the teacher during class. I'm sure that my teachers heard, but they never said or did anything. The situation was the same for Beth.

This went on for our whole freshman year. We never told our parents, we didn't know how. It was so humiliating, so will-sapping, that we thought that if we kept our heads down it would all end.

Before our sophomore year, we both asked our parents if we could move to the public school nearby. They agreed, at first concerned but willing to let us transfer. Neither of us was bullied at all there.

Beth and I now live in the Jeff City area, where I'm studying at Lincoln University. Beth is going to Mizzou in Columbia. We are living in a friendly neighborhood, in a nice house we share with two other female friends and two very fat pugs.

This story has a happy ending, but I am aware that there are plenty of people with similar situations whose similar stories do not have a happy ending. These people need to know that they can have lives past high school, and the things that happen there will not follow them out of high school, unless they succumb to this cruel hate.