Why I Attended the Amber Rose SlutWalk
I went to the 3rd Annual Amber Rose SlutWalk in Downtown Los Angeles because it is impossible for me to do the work I do and not show up for something like this.
Every day in my therapy office, I sit with people carrying shame they did not earn. Shame about their bodies, their desires, their histories, their choices. Shame that was handed to them by a culture that still — in 2017 — tells women that what they wear, who they sleep with, and how they present themselves determines their worth. The SlutWalk exists because that narrative kills people. Slowly, and sometimes not so slowly.
So I went. And I brought my camera.
What the SlutWalk Is — and Why It Matters
The SlutWalk movement started in Toronto in 2011 after a police officer told a group of college women to stop dressing like “sluts” if they wanted to avoid sexual assault. That statement — from law enforcement, from someone charged with protection — became a flashpoint. Women organized. They marched. They wore what they wanted and said, “This is not the problem.”
The movement spread to over 200 countries. And in 2015, Amber Rose — a woman who had been publicly slut-shamed, reduced, and dismissed for years — decided to bring it to Los Angeles. She didn’t just organize a walk. She built a movement.
By 2017, the 3rd Annual Amber Rose SlutWalk had become something much larger than a march. It was a full day of education, empowerment, and community at Pershing Square in downtown LA — with thousands of attendees, a women’s conference the day before in partnership with USC’s Center for Feminist Research, free health resources including STD testing and mental health support, live performances, and some of the most honest conversations about gender, bodies, and justice that you’ll find in any public space.
What I Witnessed
What struck me most was not the spectacle — though the energy in downtown LA that day was unlike anything I’d experienced. It was the realness of the people around me.
People who had survived sexual violence. People who had been shamed out of their bodies and were slowly, publicly reclaiming them. Young women who had never heard the words “victim blaming” spoken aloud finally heard them named. Men who showed up to listen. People of every gender, size, background, and identity — all there for the same reason: to say that shame is a weapon, and we are done letting it win.
As a sex therapist, I spend a lot of time in clinical language. I talk about shame responses, nervous system dysregulation, and trauma-informed care. But what the SlutWalk gave me was a reminder that healing is not just personal — it is political. It is communal. It happens in the streets, not just in the therapy room.
The Psychology of Slut-Shaming
Slut-shaming is not just rude. It is clinically harmful.
When someone internalizes shame about their sexuality — whether from a partner, a comment, social media, or a culture that polices women’s bodies — it does real damage. It disrupts sexual functioning. It increases anxiety and depression. It teaches people to disconnect from their own desire as a form of self-protection. It creates the conditions for silence: silence about assault, silence about needs, silence about pain.
That silence is what I work against every day.
The SlutWalk refuses silence. It says, “Your body is yours.” Your choices are not an invitation. What you wear is not a verdict. Who you have been is not who you are. These are not just political statements — they are therapeutic ones. They are the things I say, in different words, in my office every week.
Why I Created This Video
I wanted to document what I saw because events like this deserve more than a social media moment. They deserve to be witnessed, recorded, and remembered — especially in a year when the conversation about sexual violence and accountability was about to crack open in a way none of us could have fully anticipated.
The Amber Rose SlutWalk was in October 2017. So was the breaking of the Harvey Weinstein story. So was the beginning of what became the #MeToo movement. I don’t think that is a coincidence. The culture was already shifting. People were already gathering, already speaking, already refusing to be quiet.
This video is my small documentation of that moment. I hope it captures what I experienced: a crowd of people who showed up, unapologetically, for themselves and for each other.
