Three and a half years on from Confronting Sexual Purity Culture part one – where do I sit? How is my relationship to my sexuality, and how have I continued to confront sexual purity culture.
Where am I at now?
Nowadays, I’m fairly free of the guilt, anxiety and fear that was once a crippling lens through which I saw my relationship to sex and my own sexuality. Occasionally though, seemingly out of the blue, it pops up again.
I have been so here for the take down of Arise Church* through David Farrier’s journalism on Webworm. Mum recently linked me a Spinoff article: Arise and Fall – My Time at a Megachurch, where a young Wellingtonian details the impact her involvement there had on her life, mental health and sexuality. Like me, she grew up in a secular family, and was romanced by the excitement and allure of Arise – all concert worship and “impossibly happy” people. The aspect of community that church can bring and the sense of belonging cannot be understated. I know it was hard for me to leave that behind, even though I knew I needed to do it.
*because fuck megachurch culture that monetises faith, manipulates vulnerable people into giving their time, money and even sacrificing their mental and physical health to a cause that looks nothing like the tenets of Jesus’ teachings or the fruit of the spirit.
Representation Matters
At nineteen, freshly returned from my OE in a very societally homophobic part of the world, I saw the musical Rent for the first time. It was my first year of university. I was utterly enamoured, and it struck me that this was the first time I had ever seen two lead characters in a queer/wlw relationship, especially presented so casually. For Maureen and Joanne, their sexual attraction to women is just a feature of their characters – they’re already out and pre-established as bisexual and lesbian, respectively. Looking back, this normalisation was pretty foundational for me.
In particular, I loved La Vie Bohème, with its clever, yet blasé lyrics about whaddayaknow, the Bohemian Life. At times deliciously vulgar, I particularly love the line: “to sodomy, it’s between god and me”. It trumpets sexually liberated artists of the 90s, while making specific reference to and poking fun at stuff considered taboo in society.
Advice to Survivors of Purity Culture
Firstly – I’m sorry. If you’re not already, seek (secular) therapy, ideally from someone who specialises in religious trauma. Secondly, know that there are whole communities of us out here who are figuring shit out and supporting each other in the process – i.e. you’re not alone. You deserve to have romantically and sexually fulfilling relationships, to have autonomy over your body and to express your sexuality on your terms. You’re not dirty, you’re not wrong, and your “virginity” (whatever the hell that is) or lack thereof has absolutely no bearing on your worth. None, whatsoever.
Also, you are going to be okay. Just take it one day at a time.
bohemianhumanist.com 