Your UnSlut Project

Submitted by Anonymous

I never really had a problem with the word 'slut' - until I was called one myself. Me and my friends had used the word and its variations before.

"What do you think of this outfit?"

"Not bad, though it is a little slutty."

"Is this skirt too short? I don't want people to think I'm a slut."

"Nah, it's fine. You'd never be thought of as a slut."

Oh, but were we wrong. I was thought of as a slut. I had it yelled in my face. And by the girl that most of my grade had dubbed as 'slut' too. It hit hard. I was already really self-conscious of my looks. And having the words "You're a slut!" shouted in your face... Let's just say, it cuts deep. The words are always what hurt the most. No matter how much you think it doesn't hurt, it does. It seems silly. That one little word can do so much damage.

At the time she said it, I had wanted to tackle her down. I had wanted to punch her square in the face. My immediate reaction: anger. And I am so glad that I had a friend who stopped me. Who pulled me back, telling me "She's not worth it. Don't lower yourself to her standards."

It was later after the word was said that I felt the full impact. Alone is when it hurts the most. When the words come back to haunt you. Where they were once pushed to the back of your mind to focus on other things, now they slip to the front. I lived by this little mantra: 'Smile, its much easier than explaining why you're upset.' I was always hiding how it made me feel. Appearing unaffected. Always smiling, even when I wanted to cry. I'll never forget that day. And 'slut' wasn't the only word hurled at me, it was just the one that hurt the most. It was accompanied by 'skank' 'bitch' and 'whore'. But those didn't have the same impact. 'Slut' is the one that stays with me.

Two years later she still hates me. I don't rightly remember why. She still whispers 'slut' and 'skank' as I walk past, hoping I'll hear. And as much as I say I hate her, I don't really. I feel sorry for her. Her life must suck. A few months after that fight her entire group fell apart. I'll never know why. I really hope it wasn't because of me. The strangest thing about this whole ordeal is that the fight in which she called me a 'slut' wasn't even her fight. It was between me and a member of her group that I used to be friends with.

I've learnt to move past it. That day doesn't bother me as much as it did. But I'll always and forever live with the scars it left behind. Tiny little reminders. Not all scars are physical, some are like mine. Invisible to the naked eye. And hurt much more, because they're on the inside. How I did I move past it you may ask. It's much harder than one would think. And I thank my friends for what they've done for me. Even if they're unaware. It takes time but you have to see your own self-worth. You have to see the words as they are. Little white lies. But you must also accept that the words are now a part of who you are. Once words are said, they're said. No take-backsies. And be patient. It's not going to happen all at once.

'The person who moved the mountain, started by shifting all of the little stones.'