The One About Sex
“Whaaaaat? Sophie’s writing about sex?? I’ve probably never even heard her say the word ‘sex’!”
Haha and you might be right. Yeah, this is a big deal for me. It feels pretty vulnerable. But I’m learning that it’s also not that big of a deal. It’s okay. It’s normal. It’s good. And we can talk about it! (and also writing is easier for me than talking, so there you go)
This will likely resonate most closely with friends/readers who also grew up in Christian communities amid the influence of purity culture (links included at the end to give additional background). For all my friends who aren’t from a particular evangelical Christian background or aware of any of that, you might be like, what cult did you emerge from?? But I also don’t want to replace the shame surrounding sex in purity culture with shame of that shame. Because I know I’m far from the only one, and I know there are people farther along in this journey than me, and I know there are others who have had inklings of it or who are in the middle of their own confusion and turmoil. And people sharing their journeys of healing has been immensely encouraging and guiding for me.
But regardless, I think we could all grow and benefit from speaking more authentically and holistically about our sexual selves, on whatever scale. I feel like I can be a pretty private person with many things in my life, and obviously sex is no exception. But I don’t think it’s only been that. It’s also been this sense of shamefulness and “badness” regarding sex from cultures I grew up in that brought a feeling of disconnect and lack of ability to approach sex openly whether that was with joy, humor, curiosity, explicitness or even matter-of-fact-ness. Of course, I never encountered anyone who directly said sex was inherently bad or shameful, it was always, “Sex is a wonderful gift from God between a married man and woman” (but anything outside of that was major sin). But even if you believe in that rigid heteronormative limitation of when sex is considered a wonderful gift, the overall mood around sex was very hush hush, very judgmental, very moralized, very legalistic. It didn’t feel like a wonderful gift. It felt more like this dangerous thing I have to watch out for and stay away from or I’ll do something wrong and regret it and lose control and be condemned and consumed with guilt for the rest of my life. Maybe that seems way over the top, but that was the feeling I internalized around the ethos of what sex and sexuality meant, and I hardly even realized how heavy a burden that was.
I’m great at self control. Too great. I also became great at repression and tuning myself out and shutting myself down and pushing away thoughts I thought were wrong. And not only sexually, but in other areas of life too.
When I was in middle school I somehow got my hands on a copy of I Kissed Dating Goodbye and devoured it (innuendo intended...lol cue my attempt at terrible sex jokes haha). I took it all in (nooo that one was accidental!!) before I’d hardly begun to meet and explore my own sexuality. And I believed things strongly. I still do. But I was so young and took all of the messages in fully without any balancing perspectives or any real life experience to weigh against it. Which at the time seemed like a good thing- hearing “balancing perspectives” on what was considered morality? Umm no! Experimentation and exploration as ways of gaining wisdom and self knowledge? HELL NO! Principles such as mutuality, consent, pleasure, honesty, communication, self-trust and self-awareness, imperfection, etc. were never discussed as foundational elements for a healthy sexual life and sense of sexual self. It was more along the lines of: the less you do sexually, the better you are, and: set up these rules for yourself/we set up rules for you and don’t even begin to think about wanting to break them or you’re already in the wrong.
So in my first dating relationship I followed all the rules. I had rules for myself and the other person and did not budge on those rules. And the more that relationship went on, the more dissatisfying those rules felt. Not because I was so horny and desperate, but because they just felt so ill-fitting and inauthentic to anything in real life. And I internalized purity culture’s promises that if you go slowly and evaluate every step of the way and follow the roadmap laid out for you, things will all work out and everything will be wonderful. And that’s not what happened.
In one sense I can admire my previous self for the strength of her conviction and integrity to her beliefs. It was super legalistic, but I also genuinely believed I was doing the right thing- I didn’t know what a healthy relationship or sexuality could be like outside of that. (although maybe that’s the case for many instances of legalism…) I feel so much compassion for her and also pain that she suffered in that way and imprisoned herself so much. And I’m proud of myself now that that’s not where I am anymore. I’m definitely still in the middle of learning and healing from all of it, but I’ve been able to practice understanding and celebrating myself as a sexual being on my own and with others. The journey is far from over, but in this moment I feel joyful and free and like this burden I didn’t even know I was carrying is finally gone.