Let’s Talk Purity Culture

As a young girl growing up in a conservative Christian household, Joshua Harris’s book “I Kissed Dating Goodbye” significantly influenced my understanding of relationships, sexuality, and faith. Its rigid principles and uncompromising stance on purity culture left an indelible mark on my psyche, shaping my perceptions of love and intimacy in ways that continue to impact me as a woman today.

From an early age, I internalized the message that my worth was intrinsically tied to my virginity and that any deviation from the prescribed path of abstinence until marriage was tantamount to moral failure. I remember vividly the anxiety I felt when attending school dances or even watching romantic movies, fearing that any form of romantic interest could lead me astray. Harris’s portrayal of romance as a perilous minefield fraught with temptation and sin instilled a deep-seated fear of intimacy, causing me to approach relationships with apprehension and anxiety.

Embracing self-love and acceptance was a formidable journey for me during my formative years as a young woman. Alongside the typical challenges of navigating self-image amidst the tumult of puberty, I grappled with the additional burden of strict purity standards. These expectations deepened my insecurities, compounding the struggles many young girls like myself faced. For instance, attending youth group meetings often left me feeling judged and isolated whenever the topic of purity arose.

The damaging analogy likening individuals who had engaged in premarital intimacy to “chewed-up gum” stripped away our humanity, reducing us to mere objects devoid of intrinsic worth. This dehumanizing narrative, perpetuated under the guise of religious doctrine, eroded our sense of self-worth and perpetuated harmful stereotypes. I recall a close friend confiding in me about her feelings of worthlessness after she had a boyfriend, which only reinforced my fears and insecurities.

Reflecting on my journey, I am keenly aware of the shared struggles endured by countless young women subjected to similar purity standards. The pervasive culture of shame and judgment surrounding sexuality only serves to exacerbate the challenges of self-acceptance and self-love, leaving many of us feeling marginalized and unworthy. Conversations with peers revealed a common thread of guilt and confusion, making me realize the widespread impact of these teachings.

Moreover, the book’s reinforcement of traditional gender roles and expectations further constrained my sense of self-expression and agency as a woman. I felt pressured to conform to narrow standards of femininity, to prioritize modesty and submission over authenticity and autonomy. The idea that my sole purpose was to wait passively for a man to pursue me, to relinquish control of my desires and aspirations in deference to his leadership, left me feeling stifled and diminished. This pressure was evident in how I dressed and spoke, and even in my career choices, constantly second-guessing if I was adhering to the ‘ideal’ woman portrayed by Harris.

As I navigated adolescence and young adulthood, the teachings of “I Kissed Dating Goodbye” continued to influence my romantic encounters and personal development. I struggled to reconcile my innate desires for connection and intimacy with Harris’s ideology’s stringent rules and expectations. I grappled with feelings of guilt and shame whenever I strayed from the prescribed path, internalizing the notion that my worthiness as a woman was contingent upon my ability to adhere to an impossible standard of purity.

In retrospect, I recognize Harris’s book’s profound impact on my sense of self-worth and identity as a woman. It instilled in me a pervasive sense of shame and inadequacy, perpetuating the harmful myth that my value was contingent upon my adherence to external standards of virtue and morality. It robbed me of the opportunity to explore and embrace my sexuality in a healthy and empowered manner, relegating me to a state of perpetual vigilance and self-denial.

Today, as I reflect on the lasting repercussions of Joshua Harris’s teachings, I am reminded of the importance of challenging and interrogating the narratives that seek to define and confine us. Resources like Brené Brown’s work on vulnerability and shame, as well as support groups focused on deconstructing purity culture, have been instrumental in my healing process. I am learning to reclaim agency over my narrative and embrace my sexuality and autonomy without shame or apology. And while the scars of past indoctrination may still linger, I am committed to forging a path of self-discovery and empowerment, free from the constraints of outdated ideologies and oppressive norms.