Each and every one of us are given a special gift when we enter this world: one that is beautifully wrapped and made to perfection, gifted just to you. Throughout childhood, it is kept in the back of your closet, and you are told over and over how precious this gift will be as you grow into adulthood.
As you get older you start to become curious about this gift and its purpose. You end up falling in love and decide that it’s time to give this gift to who you believe is the rightful owner. You watch them unwrap it and rip the beautiful paper, but you know that what lies underneath is even more amazing. But you fall out of love and as they leave, you are handed a rewrapped present. The paper lies weird, the bow doesn’t fit and it’s not the beautifully wrapped present that you originally had. As life continues you give out this present and every time it’s returned, the wrapping is more ripped than before. Your wedding night comes around and you pull out your present, excited to give it to the one, but they don’t want it. It’s not beautiful anymore. It’s been used and is now useless.
This is the analogy I was taught my freshman year of high school at my Protestant Christian school. I was taught before I had even finished puberty that I would be deemed useless, undesirable, if my virginity was not intact for my future husband. The analogy is a vivid image that all of us can imagine, thinking about putting all the Christmas presents back together after opening them on Christmas morning. We can imagine the distaste we would personally feel if someone gifted us with a present that they had gotten and rather than rewrapping it with new paper, just taped up the paper that had been on it originally. This analogy was one of many used to highlight the shame around premarital sex and the impact of lustful thoughts and actions.
This was sadly just the start.
I was taught that men were easily tempted creatures and that it was my place to protect them from lustful thoughts based on how I dressed and interacted with them. Yet men’s sexual education taught them nothing about respecting women, consent or controlling their thoughts.
I was threatened before school dances with being forced into gym clothes if I did not arrive dressed “appropriately” as deemed by the staff.
Although my school was in Southern California and I spent most weekends at the beach with my school friends, at any school-led function that included swimming, I had to wear a very modest one piece or a large shirt to cover every part of my body.
As I entered college, I came to find that this left me with overwhelming shame for being a woman. I was uncomfortable with parts of my body that I had been told were “sexual.” I feared daily that any sexual exploration would inevitably lead to my husband being dissatisfied with me. I felt that the only thing that made me useful in this world was my body, yet it was also my demise. I feared that I was going to one day be useless or that my body was the one thing that did make me useful. I felt that I was never enough because love came from sex, not from who I was. I had accepted that my role in a romantic relationship was for my body and nothing else yet was ashamed that men were attracted to me. It was this confusing juxtaposition that was completely consuming.
I still remember sitting on my dorm room floor at the very start of freshman year, surrounded by my new friends. I remember sharing my belief about abstinence because I had truly thought I would be unloveable if I did not arrive at my marriage “whole” and “pure.” I can still remember the silence that followed, then the immediate debate about the topic. I remember being told how untrue that statement was, even if I felt that it was true wholeheartedly. I remember then questioning why I thought that was even close to true.
The look on my friends’ faces is something that I will never forget: the shock and horror that I had been taught something like this.
Years later, I have grown out of this shame, and it has fueled some of my deepest passions. I now find joy in my womanhood and the power that my body has. It walks me around the world and one day could even grow a human. I have learned that I am more than just a body. I have a soul that is housed inside of it. My soul is what makes people love me, not its cover.
I am doing a capstone project on sexual education and have spent time reading and learning about sexual education and the impact of its lacking. I will continue to challenge this idea in the church that shames women for who they are, and encourage concepts of respect and self love. I will raise my daughters to love who they are, but to always remember that their heart and soul are what make them the most beautiful.
I will no longer let this shame rule the way that I view myself as a woman, and I most certainly will challenge anyone that tries to continue sending a message like this into the world.
Women are strong, beautiful and ALWAYS worthy.
No matter what.