Note:
This topic may be weird to some people, but if you grew up in
conservative, evangelical Christian purity culture, this article may
resonate with you.
I
recently finished a series of books where the protagonist falls in love
with two different men. At the beginning, the readers are as in love
with the first man as the protagonist herself—we are swept into the love
story: his handsome face, talents, protectiveness, gifts, and grand
gestures.
Through the book’s conflict, she is
separated from him and introduced to a new character. This new
relationship moves from enemies to friends to lovers and something
curious happens: We, as readers, realize that the initial love story was
not as amazing—or even healthy—as we were led to believe.
The
first lover is controlling, isolates the protagonist to “protect” her,
doesn’t allow her to develop her gifts and talents, dismisses her
feelings, refuses to talk about their issues, and eventually imprisons
her in their house, all in the name of “love.”
In
contrast, the second man teaches her to read, helps her develop her
gifts, gives her space, affirms her independence, supports her ability
to heal at her own pace, communicates openly, and shares his personal
struggles, creating emotional intimacy. The protagonist marries this man
(and many more adventures ensue!)
The main character has sex with both men but the sex had no bearing on whether the relationships were healthy or not.
As
I finished this series, I was struck by the idea of “healthy” and
“unhealthy” relationships and how this contrasts with my experiences in
Purity Culture.
Growing up in the American
Evangelicalism of the 90s and early 00s, I was saturated in Purity
Culture, a movement that produced True Love Waits, I Kissed Dating
Goodbye, purity rings, and commitments to remain “pure” (not have sex)
until marriage.
I’ve had two serious
boyfriends in my life and the only question I was asked (with rare
exception) by older siblings, parents, mentors, pastors, teachers,
resident directors, deans, or accountability partners when I was dating
these guys was a variety of “Are you staying pure?”
This
was THE LITMUS TEST for if you were in a healthy relationship. If you
were having sex, or even struggling with sexual temptation or “going a
little too far”, you should probably break up.
But
there is so much we miss in helping the people we love create good
relationships if we only focus on the criteria of “are you staying
pure?” We heap damaging shame on people when we make sexual purity the
litmus test for a healthy relationship.
My own
relationship was subjected to this damning shame when, six weeks before
my husband and I got married, we were accused of having sex by my RA
partner. She was struggling with some personal issues and, because she
was angry at me, she “turned us in” to the resident directors at our
university.
We were not having sex but because
of the incredibly strict rules at our school, we were forced to confess
everything we had “done” in our relationship and, after all was said
and done, we were both were fired from our respective positions as RAs.
Because
our relationship went “beyond hand holding” and we had shared a room
(not a bed) during Spring Break as his mom’s house (with the door open),
we had “spent the night with a member of the opposite sex” and punished
accordingly.
We lost our scholarships, were
forced to move to new dorms right before finals, and were fined.
Monetarily, this resulted in thousands of dollars (we had to take out a
loan to pay the fines).
At discipline meeting
after discipline meeting, we sat across from directors and deans and
were required to “confess” the most intimate parts of our relationship
as an engaged couple in an atmosphere of shame, judgement, and
punishment.
A dean told me, even though I was
experiencing normal sexual desire for the man I was going to marry, that
“sometimes we need a break from our men to get right with God.”
This was probably the most humiliating experience of my life and colored the end of my engagement and early marriage.
The only thing that mattered, the only question on the table was, “are you pure?”
In
Purity Culture, sexual abstinence is put on such a high pedestal that
everything else that makes up a healthy relationship fades to minuscule
dots, like specks on the ground from the window an airplane.
But
those specks are actual people living out the real life love, respect,
conflict resolution, empathetic communication, and boundaries of healthy
relationships.
During my dating relationships, I was never asked by all those well-meaning people:
Do you feel respected?
Does he treat you as his equal in all facets?
Do you treat each other with kindness?
Are you able to speak your mind without fear as a full partner in the relationship?
Can you come and go at will?
Do you feel safe?
Do you feel treasured?
Are your dreams and goals valued as much as his?
Do you solve problems and resolve stress together?
When you set boundaries, are they respected?
Does he help you become the best version of yourself?
Never.
Only “Are you staying pure?”
Is
sexual purity important for Christians? It was for me when I was
dating, though it has borne some really rotten fruit and continues to be
a confusing issue for me.
Is sexual purity THE most important thing in determining the health of a relationship? Not by a long shot.
The
book series I read was fictional (full stop) but the sexual intimacy
shared by the characters was not the litmus that determined the health
of the relationship. There’s so much more that goes into having a
healthy dating relationship than the myopia of “are you staying pure?”
We
need to embrace better questions when we try to help relationships
thrive, rejecting shame and judgement, and instead focusing on love,
respect, and boundaries that encompass the entire expression of what it
means to be human and healthy.
(Pic: Our wedding day 2006)
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