Lust and the Problem of Thought-Policing

By Soffie Hicks from Wales (Lust) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Lust: The Seven Deadly Sins, by Soffie Hicks

Rachel Held Evans’ recent post on Elizabeth Smart and purity culture gave many of us a lot to think about.  I don’t always read the comments on her blog, as there are often so many and it can be tough to wade through them.  But after I posted a comment myself, I received this comment in reply.  Essentially, the person responding to what some of us had posted was trying to make a case against masturbation based on the idea that sexual fantasy is wrong and equivalent to “lust.”

This is something I believe bears examination because Christians (particularly of the conservative evangelical flavor) have an unhealthy relationship with the word lust.  I’ve seen just about every interpretation of the word, and it makes me cringe nearly every time.  I have to stop myself from leaving comments on Christian blogs that say things like, “You need to go back to high school health class” or “I recommend a good physiology lesson” or “Please just check dictionary.com before you try to parse the word” or “You’re making this up as you go along, aren’t you?”  If I had a dime for every time I saw one of the following “definitions” of lust, I’d be living on my own tropical island:

  • Lust is a desire to possess someone
  • Lust is sexual fantasy
  • Lust is being sexually attracted to someone you’re not married to
  • Lust is always an unhealthy reaction
  • Lust is an overblown desire
  • Lust is making someone an object
  • Lust is obsession

Deep sigh.  No, no, no, no, no, no, and also no.  All of those have been used as tools to control people’s sexuality, including by progressive Christians.  On the more liberal end, many feminist Christians use the word lust to mean that if one is sexually aroused by seeing an attractive person, one should not then take that home and fantasize while masturbating.  (And I would go one further–they usually mean men should not do this because it’s “creepy.”)  Meanwhile, on the conservative end, it’s been used for pretty much everything under the sun, from policing women’s clothes to policing boys’ erections.  Any sexual practices the church dislikes often get lumped into the lust category.  Oh, you’re attracted to people of the same sex?  Lust!  Oh, you had a sexy thought about your boyfriend? Lust!  Oh, you got hard in the middle of math class? Must have been lust!

None of those are the dictionary definition, nor are they found in the Bible.

According to the dictionary, lust is intense desire, and it isn’t limited to sex.  One can lust for power or food or money as well.  Additionally, it isn’t always negative, though in Christian circles it certainly has been used that way.  For example, one might describe an exuberant person who lives to the full as having a “lust for life.”  In that context, it’s intended as a good thing.

As for what the Bible says, that’s another matter entirely.  Jesus’ comparison of lust and adultery has been used to club people over the head every bit as much as the anti-gay “clobber” passages.  In fact, it’s been used both to rob women of their agency (by blaming lust on “immodesty”) and to shame men for so much as glancing at a woman in a bikini.  Among more progressive Christians, it’s been used in roughly the same way, unfortunately, with the added bonus that some feminist Christians seem to have a particular inclination to believe that if men just control their “lust” then violence against women will stop.  (Sadly, since “lust” is not the root cause of violence against women, I fear that’s a losing battle.)  Lust is equated with a power differential and a desire to reduce people to objects for our own pleasure.

Not being a Biblical scholar, I had to look it up.  As it turns out, the word “lust” is probably not an accurate translation for what Jesus meant when he said,

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Do not commit adultery.’ But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” (Matthew 5:27-28 NIV)

As it happens, the Greek word is the same word as the one for “covet.”  Now, I’m sure that at least some of my fellow feminists know that, and that’s why they’ve defined “lust” as obsessive, objectifying, or possessive.  But I’m going to argue here that the reason it bothers some women that (again, men) might fantasize about women they’ve seen has nothing to do with whether or not those men actually want to have sex with them.  It has more to do with the objectification.  That’s at a valid argument, to an extent, but it has nothing whatsoever to do with what Jesus said.  The specific thing being warned against is not objectification but possession–the desire to have or own something that does not belong to you–and a general approach to women which includes the intent to possess.

That’s an important distinction to make.  There is a big difference between being aroused by a sexy person on the beach (and even fantasizing about it later) and going to the beach with the intent to troll for people to fantasize about.  In the former, it’s a response to an unanticipated stimulus; in the latter, it’s an intentional search for the stimulus.  Intent matters–it means something.

We need to stop thinking about God as some kind of Cosmic Thought Cop, and we need to stop policing each other.  The way it looks to me is that both ends of the Christian spectrum seem to have an unhealthy obsession themselves with controlling other people.  Stomping your feet and demanding that people stop having sexual fantasies about actual humans is cut from the same cloth as expecting people to never have any sexual thoughts until they are properly married, and then only ever about their spouses.  In both cases, it’s not about anyone’s behavior or intent, it’s merely about the pictures in their heads.  We can–and should–have a conversation about whether what’s in one’s thoughts might translate to behavior.  But it won’t be productive until we stop trying to control every last brain wave that we find personally bothersome.

For more on this topic, I suggest reading “Whoever Looks at a Woman With Lust”: Misinterpreted Bible Passages #1.  It’s pretty straight cis male-centric, though, so keep that in mind as you read–not everything in there is universally applicable.

Trust in me

© Chrisharvey | Stock Free Images & Dreamstime Stock Photos

As I mentioned yesterday in my Fifty Shades post, I want to explore this idea of trust a bit further.  It’s important, because I’m seeing something huge happening among people who call themselves both feminists and Christians.  We are standing at the threshold of a new (and hopefully healthier) sexual ethic that reflects both our faith and the letting go of patriarchal norms.  This is a marvelous thing that is unfolding, and I am beyond thrilled to be part of it.

Last week, fellow blogger Dianna Anderson posted this fantastic piece titled No Touching: Consent as the First Step.  I absolutely agree wholeheartedly that consent must be a foundational element of our sexual ethic, because otherwise, little else that we say matters.  As important as consent is, however, it cannot by itself be our ethic.  We need other elements–without them, we end up with the potential for “whatever makes you happy.”  That’s not truly healthy either.

The next thing we must talk about is trust.  Consent is good, but it must go hand-in-hand with trust.  What made me think of it was not the lack of trust I see in Fifty Shades (though that did help clarify it).  I was actually inspired by this quote from the aforementioned post by Dianna:

Consent is asking at every step “Is this okay? Does this feel good? Can I touch you here?” and getting a unequivocally positive response before proceeding.

With all due respect, I disagree with this statement.  There are times and situations in which it is certainly true, but it is not universally applicable.  When my husband and I are physically intimate with each other, we don’t ask permission and require an enthusiastic “yes” before every single activity.  To my recollection, we have never done this.  In fact, it would be rather strange if we started.  At this point, the expectation is that if one of us does not want to do something or is not enjoying it, we will speak up; if one of us speaks up, the other is expected to listen.  We communicate if we want to try something we’ve never done, but otherwise, we simply do what feels right in the moment.

That got me thinking: Why is that?

Why don’t we have to ask permission for every kiss, every touch?  And why didn’t we need to even when we began a physically intimate relationship?

The answer is that we trust each other.  We have always had the kind of open, honest relationship that made such trust possible.  This is why we don’t need to ask permission.  It isn’t because permission is merely assumed; it’s because we understand each other well enough that we don’t need words to communicate.

It just so happens that I think that the level of trust one has for a partner and the level of physical intimacy should match.  That means that the “are you married, check yes or no” question is the wrong one to ask.  It also means that “do you have permission” might also be the wrong question to ask if it’s asked in isolation.

I’m not comfortable affixing labels to relationships in such a way that the only equation is consent + trust = married couple.  And for those who do not share my religious sensibilities, it’s not my job to police your ethics or tell you that you shouldn’t have a sexual encounter that requires asking permission for every act.  But as for people calling themselves Christians, I absolutely believe that we should not be sexually linked with people we do not fully trust.

There are a number of other factors that come into play when developing a healthy ethic, but both consent and trust are foundational.  I would like to see us build on these two things as we seek to discern how we can have relationships that honor others and reflect our faith.

Breaking the rules

This is a continuation of my previous post.  I’m dealing with some sensitive issues, including lust, pornography, and addiction. If you are uncomfortable talking about these things, you may not want to read what I have to say. If you’re okay with my subject matter (or are very curious, even if you don’t want to admit it), read on.

Before we can talk about the ways in which self-pleasure can be a positive, healthy thing, we need to have a conversation about lust, pornography, and addiction.  We need to break the rules that those are all interchangeable terms and are all inherently bad.

When it comes to lust, I think we simply have no real way to discuss what it is and what it means without devolving into some variation on thought-policing.  I have some rage about that, actually.  I am truly sick and tired of the way lust gets thrown around as a way to tell people what they should or should not find sexy or what fantasies are acceptable when one is wanking.  I simply cannot buy into the idea of a God who wastes time fretting about what gives His people orgasms rather than, say, caring what happens to starving children.

I think we need to understand the context of Jesus’ remarks about lust, because otherwise, all sexual fantasy is reduced to lust.  I have read numerous articles on the subject, and the problem with all of the Christian versions is exactly the same.  Most people seem to think that before Jesus, the line was drawn at “Don’t screw your neighbor’s wife.”  After Jesus, there was a new line, but no one seems to be able to define it.  It could be anything from “Don’t think sexy thoughts at all” to “Don’t fantasize about the person you just saw in the park.”  All we do is keep moving the line, which does nothing to lead to actual freedom.  It’s just more about monitoring and controlling other people.  I don’t view Jesus’ words about lust that way at all.  When Jesus was speaking about lust and adultery, he was making commentary on legalism–saying, “You want legalism?  Here you go.  Have some more.”  (I suggest you read everything in Matthew 5 after the Beatitudes while picturing Condescending Wonka.)  Every time we move the line and try to define lust in terms of what people view, read, or think about when they get off, we end up with more red tape.

There are two problems with that.  First, if thinking about another person while pleasuring oneself is wrong, then it also applies to partnered couples.  Well, shoot.  That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.  I mean, I consider it damn hot to imagine my husband bringing himself off in the shower while thinking about me!  I really want him to “lust” after me.  I don’t consider it some attempt to possess me or reduce my humanity in any way if he were to think about my hands on his body.  (You are all blushing right now, aren’t you?  That’s so cute.)

Second, it makes people terrified of their own thoughts.  I can remember watching movies with my husband–my husband!–and if there was any sex, I would immediately tense up.  I would think, I can’t find this sexy.  I’m not supposed to find this sexy.  I would worry that he was embarrassed.  I would fear being turned on by it because oh my god that’s porn! even if there wasn’t much being shown.  And for real, folks, that was incredibly damaging.  By shutting off any natural reaction because I was afraid that it was veering into Lust Land, I also shut off any ability to respond to actual sex.  Thought-policing on the lust front is a recipe for repression and depression.  Instead, we need to reframe the conversation so that it’s about how we show respect to others’ humanity rather than about punishing ourselves for naughty thoughts.

So let’s talk about porn, then.  Well, what about it?  My problem with porn is not holy shit naked people humping.  Human beings have sex, and we’ve been creating visual representations of it for thousands of years.  The exaggerations in porn?  Not new.  There is some ancient Japanese art in which men have schlongs the size of their heads.  My problem with porn is largely the abuses in the industry and the ways in which rather than being a reflection of humanity, it has become a standard for humanity.  I could–and probably should–write an entire post about the relationships between porn and sex trafficking, child abuse, drug addiction, and the degradation of women.  I could also include frank discussion of the ways in which use of pornography can cause problems within intimate relationships, often due to differing standards as well as the aforementioned shame attached to it.  I could spend a long time hashing out the difference between a person who simply enjoys porn and a person who has become so wrapped up in it that he or she can’t enjoy sex of any kind without it.  As I said, those are all important issues, but a discussion about self-gratification is not the place to go into detail.  Suffice it to say, watching people get it on is really not the big problem here, but neither do I feel comfortable endorsing it as just another art form.

So now that we’ve gotten lust and porn out of the way, what about sex addiction?  Well, first of all, we have to be clear on what we’re talking about.  There is good evidence that the rate of sex addiction is greatly inflated because people who enjoy daily sexual release are lumped into this category, as are people who regularly view porn. This is more a function of a sexually repressed society than any actual disorders (not that those don’t exist too, but the church has definitely defined “addiction” in pretty broad terms).

In order to qualify as a genuine addiction or as a problem, there are several things that need to be true.  First and foremost, it needs to be a problem for the person, and not just because the person feels embarrassed or ashamed or guilty.  It needs to actually have real-life consequences:  It needs to interfere with activities of daily living or be truly harmful to oneself or others.  Folks, it’s not going to kill you.  This is not the same thing as being an alcohol or drug addict.  I believe (and sex-positive experts agree) that this is just another lie spread by very conservative religious types.  You can fondle yourself multiple times a day and unless you are doing it at inappropriate times or in inappropriate places, you’re pretty much okay.  I have seen a number of people claiming that they were “addicted” because they believed themselves to be using masturbation as a way to fill an unnamed emotional hole, and I understand that perspective.  But even using sexual release as  means of self-soothing is not wrong.  Heck, it’s better than getting drunk or binge-eating or self-harm, and it’s a hell of a lot safer than escaping through sky diving or bungee jumping.  I think the “filling an emotional need” thing is a distractor  anyway.  Would you have the same concerns if I were feeling lonely and soothed myself by spending the night watching my favorite movie for the thirtieth time?  Probably not.

Please don’t think I’m dismissing the harm that can come from lust, porn, and addiction; I’m not.  It’s just very important that we remove the layers of shame and guilt before we can deal with the things underneath that really are harmful.  If something feels like a problem for you personally, then by all means do something about it.  But make sure that your reasons aren’t stemming from the negative messages from the church or culture.

Next time, we get to the good stuff: what makes masturbation a potentially really awesome thing?

Sex is not a magical unicorn, part 3

Warning: Sexy Sex talk.  Read at your own risk.  Also, for some tips on how sex actually can be a magical unicorn, with wings even, please check out this comment on yesterday’s post.  There’s a couple of great links from Hunter on non-intercourse sex.

So, over the last two days I’ve been explaining why sex isn’t the magical, mystical experience we’re often taught to expect.  I’m wrapping it up today with a bit about how we can stop both overrating sex and shaming people about it.

In my quest for information, I watched the documentary Let’s Talk About Sex.  I don’t necessarily agree with all of the conclusions of the filmmaker.  I’m not convinced, for example, that the Netherlands is the country we should emulate when it comes to sex education.  But I agree that we have a problem in the U.S.

Our country is an oddity.  Our culture is saturated in overt sexuality, and we have the highest rates of adolescent pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases of any developed nation.  Yet our method of handling the crisis is to yell more loudly and more often that everyone should just abstain until marriage.  The bad news is, the yelling isn’t working.  Upwards of 90% (some figures closer to 95%) of people aren’t waiting.

There is a truckload of guilt and shame attached to sex.  Recently, I heard one (Christian) girl explain the reason why pregnancy is more common among conservatives is that they are taught that everyone makes mistakes.  Therefore, getting caught up in the moment is acceptable.  Only “bad” girls would plan ahead or use condoms, proving that they were intending to sin.  Does anyone else see the problem with this line of thinking?

As several people have commented on this blog, this is something we need to talk about.

I see two places we can begin.  First, we can make sure that within our families, we are providing an open, caring atmosphere where sharing about sex comes as naturally as sharing about any other subject.  Second, we can make public education and religious education two sides of the same coin, rather than opposing forces where one imposes its will on the other.

One of the best ways to take the shame out of sex and sexuality is to speak about it honestly.  Now, I don’t necessarily mean with strangers on your blog.  Well, okay, maybe I do mean that.  But that’s not the only thing I mean.  It’s easier, sometimes, to be truthful about our feelings and experiences when we don’t have to do it face to face with people we know.  But we have to move past that, or we will never see any real change.

As I’ve said before, parents need to take play an active role in their kids’ sex education.  I don’t mean being involved at school or church, I mean being the first person your child talks to about sex.  Parents need to be well-educated on the subject.  Make sure you have accurate information.  I’ve provided many wonderful links you can use to increase your own knowledge, and others have added theirs to the comments.  Feel free to add your own here.  (Please be aware that I will remove anything that has obvious false or intentionally misleading information, however.)

In addition, parents should be ready to be honest with their kids about their own histories.  Don’t lie in the hopes that your child won’t make your mistakes.  If you feel you’ve made a mistake, own it.  If you feel that what you did was right for you at the time, be truthful about that.  You don’t need to volunteer anything you don’t want to, but don’t cover it up if your kid asks.

When it comes to sex education, the church and the school should not be at odds.  The school should provide accurate, comprehensive sex education from a health standpoint.  This should include information about how to prevent pregnancy and disease.  I don’t see this as any different from schools teaching the theory of evolution.  Lots of conservative Christians disagree that evolution is a valid theory, yet it’s still taught.  There is no reason why sex education can’t be improved.

Meanwhile, the church should stay out of attempts at explaining physiology, especially when it’s used to make a point about the “nature” of boys and girls.  I’m not kidding when I say that I’ve seen real damage done with misinformation masquerading as “moral values.”  I’ve seen boys who think it’s excusable to blame girls for rape, and I’ve seen girls who think there’s something wrong with them because they experience arousal.  Leave the physiology lessons to the school and stick with talking about spiritual, ethical, and moral expression of sexuality.

Instead of treating sex like a rather mysterious and wondrous prize, we need to begin seeing it as a normal part of human experience.  Only then will we be able to think and speak of it in a way that is both God-honoring and healthy.

Women are not the problem

Warning: This post contains subject matter which may be triggering for some people.  Things I will mention include rape, sexual assault, harassment, abuse, molestation.  Also, I use some strong language (read: swearing).  Read at your own risk.  If you choose to comment on this post, please show respect by providing a trigger warning for sensitive topics each time you include them.  (Posts with potential triggers that don’t include a warning will be removed within 24 hours.)  Thanks!

Last night, I participated in an animated discussion on Twitter regarding the 2005 book Sex Is Not the Problem: Lust Is by Joshua Harris.  One of the people I follow is reading it for research and was live tweeting her reactions.  I won’t take up space with all of the horrifying quotes she tweeted, but I will tell you which two I found the most disturbing:

When you dress and behave in a way that is designed …to arouse sexual desire in men, you’re committing pornography with your life.

and

Ask God to help you see how selfish and uncaring it is to want to use your body to encourage your brothers to lust.

Those two statements, right there, are exactly why we have a problem with boys and men who act as though they have the right to take whatever they want from girls and women.

You may not be able to see it.  You almost surely won’t see it if you are a straight, white, cis-gender man.  You probably won’t see it if you’re a woman who buys into purity culture and have never been victimized.

But the rest of us see it.

It’s especially bad for those of us who have been harmed by it.  We’re the survivors.  We’re the ones who have had to deal with years of shame because we believed that what we suffered was our own fault.  We’re the ones who…

  • were raped by our innocent, safe boyfriends with whom we never even shared a kiss.
  • dressed in baggy clothes and pretended we didn’t have breasts because we were sure that they wouldn’t have raped us if we’d been more modest.
  • were licked, leered at, and taunted by our classmates because using sexuality was a way to make us feel small.
  • had boys write “slut” and “whore” and “bitch” on our homework, then had friends tell us we should be flattered because “he likes you!”
  • had our fathers demand chastity with our boyfriends while themselves finger-fucking us in bed at night.
  • got felt up by boys, without our permission, and then were ashamed because we kind of liked it.*
  • had boys ask to touch our bodies, and said yes because we were scared, and never told anyone because we hadn’t said no.
  • thought something was wrong with us when we felt sexually aroused, because that wasn’t supposed to happen to girls who weren’t married.
  • were virgins when we got married and endured years of painful intercourse instead of real lovemaking because the first time was so painful and scary, and no one ever taught us that it didn’t have to be—even if we’d never had sex before.
  • continue to live with shame over our non-marital intimacy because we’ve been labeled as “sluts.”

And through every single moment, we heard the message loud and clear that whatever we were doing was the cause of our misery.**

So you can sit there in your self-righteous bubble and tell us how we should dress or act so that we don’t attract the “lust” of boys and men.  Or you can choose to use your own feelings of guilt and shame to do more damage to other people.  Either way, though, you need to keep it to yourself.  You need to stop using your words to continue the cycle of blame and guilt that has been inflicted on too many women.

If I sound angry, it’s because I am.  I’m angry that we spend our energy demanding that women take responsibility for both their own and men’s sexuality, instead of doing what we should be doing: going after the actions of the people who victimize others directly, without blaming those they’ve harmed.  I’m angry that anyone gave Joshua Harris a platform for his douchey attitude toward women.  I’m angry that the message that what women wear causes uncontrollable urges in men is still being spouted in churches everywhere.  I’m angry that because this message is so prevalent in Christian culture, my children will someday hear it, even if it isn’t explicitly preached to them at church (the same message appears in music, books, devotions, and educational material for Christian teens).

I have two messages.  First, for men like Joshua Harris and other men who call themselves Christians: Shut up.  Just shut up.  We women don’t need you to tell us how we should dress or act.  And we don’t need men to “protect” or “rescue” us from the fairly uncommon random stranger that attacks women.  No, we need you men to keep your damn pants zipped and stop being the ones who rape and molest us, and then trying to blame us for being immodest.

Second, for those of who have been abused and assaulted, stop believing the lie that it’s your fault.  Stop believing that there is something wrong with you.  There isn’t.  And you don’t need Jesus to heal you from whatever sin caused your pain, because it wasn’t your fault at all.  You don’t need to recover from your own fall, but from the shame placed on you by other people.  You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.

This has to stop somewhere, and I’m determined that, at least in my own household, it stops with me.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

*It’s not uncommon for children who are molested or people who are sexually assaulted to feel some degree of arousal.  Those parts of our bodies are designed to respond to stimuli.  The shame comes both from the confusion that it’s simultaneously unpleasant and yet stimulating, coupled with the belief that anything sexual is bad until marriage.

**Yes, everything on that list has happened to someone (or multiple someones) that I personally know.  Yes, some of them happened to me.  No, I’m not going to tell you which ones.

Sex is not a poopy diaper, part 3

Warning: Yeah, more sex stuff.  Seriously, it’s fun to talk about.  Try it some time.

Question of the day: Why are we often so willing to admit our rebellious teenage behavior, but we can’t talk openly about sex with our closest friends?

If your friendships look like the ones on TV and you get right down to it talking and supporting each other when it comes to intimate relationships, more power to you.  But most of the people I know don’t do that, especially Christians.

When I was young, I was the worst combination of extremely uptight and very strong-willed.  So I rebelled against my parents by becoming more conservative than they were and by “getting religion.”  I bought into a rather severe view of purity which led me to believe that virtually nothing was acceptable.  I only had a handful of rather hushed, giggly conversations with several other girls who shared that mentality.

I remember vividly the first Christian I ever met who was open about sexuality.  We were talking about wanting to be in relationships, and she spoke candidly about experiencing arousal—and how she . . . *ahem*. . . addressed it.  She asked me if I knew what she meant.  My mind went, “OMG . . . OMG . . . she didn’t really just say what I think she did.  Did she?  Crap, she did.  What do I tell her???”  I’m sure that I mumbled something intelligent like, “Squeak!” and nodded, just to move the conversation on to safer topics.

See, I had the impression that being turned on was bad, bad, bad unless you were with your husband.  If you were feeling aroused, you were supposed to try thinking of something really unsexy, like school cafeteria pb&j sandwiches.  (But not the fiestada; because fiestada is damn sexy.)  The very notion of having any sexual feelings was inextricably linked to feelings of guilt, because it was a clear sign that one was “lusting.”

I have no idea if that was the intent of the people at my church.  But it was certainly the result.

We’re constantly told that “the world” (or whatever term is popular for non-Christian culture) is responsible for emphasizing sex.  Sadly, we just don’t seem to get it that Christians share equal responsibility for elevating sex beyond where it needs to be.  It’s reactive, rather than taking the initiative: Culture (movies, books, TV) encourage sexual immorality; the church pushes back with an emphatic no.  But the harder we push back, the tighter we grip, the more likely we are to cause a cycle of rebellion, sin, guilt, and promises to stop.  It’s a losing battle.

Not only that, the very people the church makes responsible for teaching sexual morality are often the same people who lack education about basic biology, feel embarrassed discussing sex, or are dealing with their own addictive sexual behaviors.  (I’m not judging anyone; I’m just saying that if a person has not yet addressed his or her own trauma or addiction, it can be hard to move beyond it to instruct others.)

The struggle with ethical, moral sexuality doesn’t end when a person moves out of his or her parents’ home.  We need to begin helping our Christian adults to be able to talk openly about sexuality with each other.  The more we do that, the safer the church will be overall.  We will end up with many adults who have healthy attitudes toward their bodies and sex, and therefore children and teens with healthy attitudes.

This is one place where we need each other.  Too many people have too much guilt, shame, and fear piled on.  Let’s end the cycle of hurt by being open with each other.  Instead of another tired lecture about sinful sex, we could just encourage people to begin talking, to hear each other’s stories.

At least it’s a start.

And that’s a wrap on this series.  Tomorrow brings my usual weekly highlights, and then I’m going on vacation.  Weee!  I’m not sure how much I will post while I’m away, but I’ll try to stay in touch.  See you on the other side!

Sex is not a poopy diaper, part 2

Warning: There’s stuff about sex in here. You can read it and take notes, read it and blush, read it and pretend you didn’t, or just skip it entirely. Up to you.

Yesterday, I talked about how we often introduce shame about sex early on by failure to communicate clearly about anatomy. Today, I’m advancing the conversation to adolescence.

By the time I was old enough to start getting any real “sex education,” I discovered just about everyone seemed to think sex was something to be ashamed about. In school, all I learned about sex was that if I had any, I could get a disease. Heck, they didn’t even talk to us about pregnancy. I think that’s because, despite what some think, I live in a conservative area. As an adult, my understanding is that teachers weren’t supposed to talk to us about contraception, although they could tell us how not to get sick. The emphasis was definitely on Things That Can Go Wrong. With pictures. In full color.

Most churches offer some variation on the theme of waiting for sex until marriage. While I have no disagreement with encouraging waiting, the way it’s taught nearly always promotes that sense of guilt and shame, along with the idea that sex itself is something dirty and embarrassing. There’s always a list of rules, mostly things you’re not supposed to do:

  • Don’t think about sex.
  • Don’t look at anything sexy.
  • Cover up any part of your body that might even remotely be sexy.
  • Don’t think about sex.
  • Don’t do anything with your partner except polite, chaste kisses.
  • Keep your hands to yourself.
  • Keep your hands off yourself.
  • Don’t think about sex.
  • Looking is the same as sex.
  • Don’t entice people with your body.
  • Don’t be aroused, and if you are, pray it away.
  • Don’t think about sex.

There’s some really big problems with that.

First, it makes some assumptions about boys and girls in relation to one another. It sets boys up as predators and girls up as temptresses. So instead of girls being able to discern which boys really are predatory, they learns to see them all that way. It also teaches boys that if they’re aroused, girls are at fault. Gee, I wonder what the scary implications of that might be.  (For a fictional rendition of this, see Twilight.  There’s some seriously creepy stuff in there.)

Second, it ignores basic biology. Ever been a teenager? Maybe it’s been too long. Maybe you had a lot of this guilt piled on. But all those surging hormones create a lovely playground for sexual arousal. Telling kids that the changes their bodies are undergoing are bad or that they should fight them is . . . weird. I’m not suggesting the way to handle hormones is to go have as much indiscriminate sex as possible. But c’mon, let’s work with biology here, not against it. If more kids understood that their bodies were normal, that would be a great start.

Third, it takes Scripture out of context and legitimizes the encouragement of guilt and shame. Remember that whole “lust is just as bad as adultery” thing? Yup, Jesus said it. But let’s get this straight: He wasn’t talking about getting a little hot over the cute next-door neighbor. This has been used time and again to shame people for having sexy thoughts. It’s even used within the context of relationships. Because of the whole “sex is bad until the wedding” mantra, dating couples struggle with the very idea of being physically attracted to each other. Instead of acknowledging it, they stuff it down. The expectation is that it’s a light switch—turn it off until the minister calls it, then turn it on when you get to the honeymoon suite. Sorry, doesn’t work that way.

Lust is an entirely different beast. It’s a willful, possessive way of looking at another person. It’s a way of reducing a person to nothing more than a body that might be available for our own pleasure. It is not a normal, ordinary biological process. It is not a fleeting thought. It is not a mere attraction to someone nice-looking. And the best way to handle it isn’t to simply stuff it down and repeat, “I will not lust; I will not lust; I will not lust.” It’s best handled by learning to value and respect other people.

Finally, the laundry list of don’ts is exactly that: An anti-to-do list. A set of rules. A no-no checklist. That view of sexuality is entirely negative. When the message is that it’s bad until the wedding night, it can be pretty challenging to suddenly see it as a good thing. There’s a host of terrible consequences in that.

I think most people would be very surprised by the number of people (particularly women) who are hiding intense fear and shame. Often, their spouses don’t know about it. It has a huge and lasting impact on the loving relationship between spouses. Trust me, I know it’s true, both from personal experience and from the experiences of others. In fact, the guilt and shame piled on related to sex and sexuality are so deep that people feel it even if they were not Christians at the time they first experienced sexual intimacy. I’ve met many people who have told me that they are deeply ashamed of their past, even though they were acting on the moral values available to them at the time.  And even though they believe their sins are forgiven, it’s often the one thing they can’t let go.

This isn’t healthy, in any sense. I don’t have any easy answers. My hope is that we can begin to talk about ways to bring about a less damaging way to handle purity and fidelity without pre-shaming people into the Just Don’t Do It camp.

Join me tomorrow when I address another layer of sex as a four-letter word.

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My apologies that I’m not adequately addressing the unique feelings of my LGBT brothers and sisters here; I have no experience and feel that I cannot speak to this particular subject within your marriages and relationships. I am not trying to further marginalize or alienate you. I’m open to discussing those issues, though, so if anyone wants to write a guest post on the topic, message me.

Sex is not a poopy diaper, part 1

Warning: In this post, I use correct anatomical terms for private body parts.  If you find that squicky, go read someone else’s blog.  Or play Words with Friends.  Whatever.

From the way a lot of Christians treat it, one might get the impression that anything to do with sex is embarrassing and dirty.

The aversion starts early and goes right down to failure to use proper terminology when referring to body parts.  The number of people (especially girls and women) who have no basic understanding of their anatomy is shocking.  I mean, guys are pretty simple.  I think most boys reach adulthood knowing the proper words for their external genitalia.  Maybe they couldn’t give details on the internal plumbing, but they’ve got a pretty good idea how things work.  Girls, on the other hand, tend to be familiar with their internal physiology.  That can’t be helped.  When you need to take out stock in maxi pads for at least thirty years, you get to know what’s going on in there.  Not so much with what’s on the outside, though.

I really don’t understand why parents don’t make the effort to teach their kids the right terminology.  We explained from the time the kids could identify what they saw that boys have a penis, girls have a vagina and a vulva.  My daughter has no notions that hers are called a “cootchie,” “hooha,” “flower,” or “front butt.”  (Yes, that last one is real.  You take any two or more moms waiting for their kids to finish a community-based class, and by the end of it, at least one of them will have overshared about their kids’ private parts and/or bathroom habits in some way.  I have no idea why this mom felt the need to explain to me what her daughter calls her genitals, but she was rather proud of this bizarre euphemism.  When asked, I politely explained that I used to work as a nurse and my daughter is familiar with the correct words.)

Seriously, people, just call a spade a spade.  Take the mystery out of it.  And if you aren’t sure what everything is called, there’s this handy thing called Google.  You can even see a diagram.  (Yes, I know it comes from Planned Parenthood, which every good Christian knows is run by Satan’s minions.  You know what?  Deal with it.  It’s a pretty good diagram.  Although I gotta say, those colors are a little scary.)

I honestly feel that a good part of helping kids navigate these things is being proactive as a parent.  I would really rather that they hear about their bodies and about sex from us than from anyone else.  Church can’t (and shouldn’t!) provide the anatomy and physiology, and school shouldn’t be responsible for providing the morals.  That makes it our job as parents to talk frankly with our kids.  We’ve started early, just understanding their bodies, because it helps all of us feel like this is something we can discuss.  Having two parents who know basic biology also helps build our kids’ trust that we will be able to give them answers to more challenging questions.  Trust me, if you come off like it’s painful and humiliating to talk about it while your kids are young, they won’t want to talk about it when they’re older and really need you.  And when they find out you don’t even know the same basic stuff they can find in their textbooks, they won’t believe you when you offer other information—even if it’s true.

Time and again, research demonstrates that the single biggest factor in kids making wise, healthy choices about their bodies and sex is having parents who are actively involved in the conversation.  It’s never too late.  Take some time to become familiar with the correct information about physiology, the part that carries no moral or spiritual implications.  Figure out your own feelings, and deal with your own past, first.  Practice with your spouse, significant other, or a friend.  Role-playing sometimes lessens anxiety.  When you’re ready, open it up and talk to your kids.  You won’t regret it.

Join me tomorrow when I talk about how shame and guilt have led to an unhealthy view of sexuality.

Under Lock and Key

So I know I’ve already had one post about this topic this week, but thanks to an email I received the other day, I’m back to it again.  After reading the email, I resisted the urge to rip my hair out at the roots.  Instead, here is part of the text, with my comments interspersed:

I have a friend named Paul who told me about the wedding of his daughter.  He said that part of the wedding ceremony was the passing on of a single gold key on a necklace.  When his daughter was a young girl, just entering puberty, Paul gave her a gold key on a chain.  He also bought one for himself.  He told her that he wanted her to wear the gold key around her neck to represent her commitment to sexual purity.  That she would remain a virgin until marriage, guarding herself from any form of sexual expression or experience that would dishonor God and be harmful to herself.  And then He would wear one around his neck as well to reflect his commitment to guard and protect her as her father.

Does anyone else find this kind of…creepy?  I am all for parents protecting their children.  But I do not—NOT—want my daughter to pledge her virginity to her father.  If she chooses to pledge her purity to anyone, it ought to be God.  And while I applaud parents who care about their children, I don’t think this is the way to do show it.  Parents should have open communication with their kids, not superficial pledges based in patriarchal customs.  Not to mention how weird it makes me feel that a father would have this conversation with his prepubescent daughter.

And protect her he did!  They had a rule that before a boy could take her out on a date, he had to meet Paul and ask his permission, which weeded out more than its fair share of suitors.  Those young men willing to meet him were engaged in a conversation that would involve Paul talking to the boy about the key.  He would tell them how precious his daughter was to him, how prized she was in his eyes and in God’s.  And then he would ask the boy point blank:  can I trust you with my daughter?

Again, yay for the parent meeting potential dates.  It’s a good idea to know who your kid spends time with.  Not so yay for the creepy stalker behavior and talking to people you (or your kid) may not know very well about her virginity.

At her wedding, here’s what happened.  She gave him her key back, representing that she had fulfilled her pledge to remain a virgin until marriage.  Because she had.  And then, as part of the ceremony, she publicly thanked him for how he had raised her, because now she was giving the most precious gift she could give to her husband.  Then Paul took the key off of his own neck, and gave it to her husband, saying that now the mantle of protection and integrity was his responsibility.

Aaargh!  Aaargh!  Aaargh!  “Her most precious gift”?????  I really, really hope that young woman had something to bring to her marriage besides her lack of sexual experience.  Because if that’s the best she can give her husband, that marriage is doomed.  And if her husband would have rejected her because of her past, then he has issues, too.  Ugh.  Don’t even get me started on the passing of the key representing how her husband now “owns” her and is responsible for not only protecting her (whatever that’s supposed to mean) but for her integrity.  Last I checked, my integrity rests on my shoulders.

It also occurs to me that the creepy factor has not disappeared at the wedding.  Why, oh why, does this father have anything whatsoever to do with his adult daughter’s state of virginity?  I would hazard a guess that the bride is still fairly young (I honestly can’t see a thirty-five-year-old woman not demanding that key back ages ago).  But I’m sure (well, I’m hoping, anyway) that she’s over eighteen, probably somewhat older.  So what the heck is Dear Old Dad still doing protecting her purity?  I don’t believe that it’s his business anymore.

Of course, I should note that I think this particular story is an urban legend, Christian-style.  I know that people actually do this sort of thing, but this specific story just sounds like the sort of drivel that gets shared in spammy emails, but isn’t factual.  It’s meant to have the same effect as all urban legends: To teach us some moral lesson.  I want to believe that this purity pledge culture means well.  I really do.  Except that it all just comes across as closer to “your cow for my daughter” than helping young people navigate their relationships.  This is a side effect of some of the other things I’ve talked about this week—idolizing virginity, the male gaze, and double standards for men and women.  Is this the message we want to send to our children?

The problem with things like the purity rings or the “sex key” is that they stand as an external measure of someone’s worth.  That daughter only has value as long as she keeps her key on and her legs together.  I know parents want to look out for their kids and want them to make good decisions.  But in this case, should that daughter lose her virginity before she’s married, she loses much more than that.  She loses at least some of her worth before her father.  If you think I’m exaggerating, try again.  I’ve seen it happen.

What’s sad about that is that it isn’t an accurate representation of the way God deals with us.  We never lose worth in God’s eyes.  I may not like some things my kids do.  But I will never, ever extract a promise to “be good” regarding any behavior.  And should either of my children have sex before marriage, I will consider it a) their choice, not mine, and b) not my business, as it’s between them and their partner (and God).

I see no support in the Bible for this purity culture crap.  I have nothing at all against waiting for sex until marriage.  I support it.  I commend it.  But pledging to one’s parent to remain a virgin isn’t in Scripture.  I see no evidence that this is how we should treat our daughters.  (Or our sons, for that matter.  I can’t envision myself exchanging purity rings with mine.)  Instead, we should be helping our children—both boys and girls—make healthy, wise, moral decisions in their lives.  We should be empowering them to trust God and make their commitments to God, not to us.  And that’s something you actually can find in the Bible.

Double Standards and Wedding Cake

I wrote yesterday about the way sexual purity has been idolized, particularly for women.  I want to follow that up, because there is still something bothering me.

Many years ago, long before I was married, my friends and I discovered something interesting.  One of the young women I knew back then had ended up broken-hearted after a relationship ended.  He didn’t just cause her pain by leaving her.  He ripped out her heart, stomped on it, and left it a bloody pulp.  He utterly crushed her by making her feel dirty and damaged.  He had found out that she wasn’t a virgin and told her he couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t pure.  But even worse, he confessed later that he himself was sexually experienced.

Talk about a double standard.

I decided that this would make interesting “research.”  I wondered if this was a common perspective among males.  Did they all want the same thing?  I questioned both my male and female friends on the subject and found some not-so-surprising results.  Nearly every guy I asked said they would either not want to marry a woman if she weren’t a virgin or would have serious reservations.  This included involuntary sexual activity.  There were only two exceptions.  One said he couldn’t justify being judgmental because he had already had sex.  The other was gay.

On the flip side, the majority of women said they didn’t really care.  They figured that what was in the past was behind them, and as long as he wasn’t pressuring them, it wasn’t a problem.  Only those who had the most fundamentalist worldview preferred the idea of marrying a man with no prior sexual activity.  Now, this is only anecdotal, and my sample was limited to my own friends and acquaintances.  It was fascinating nonetheless, and I have a feeling it wouldn’t be much different among other Christian populations.

In yesterday’s post, I reviewed some common metaphors used in abstinence-based education.  They were all about damage: The wedding cake, demolished flower, chewed candy, spit-filled cup.  Obviously, the aim is to demonstrate how a girl or woman has been forever ruined by her sexual history.

Wait…but the guy wouldn’t be “ruined”?!  So, he could be forgiven of his indiscretion, and he could move on, but she would have to live with the shame and guilt forever.  There is definitely something wrong with that.  Female virginity is still seen as a prize, and men who don’t get to claim it should be sorely disappointed.  But male virginity isn’t important, at least in the long-term.

One thing I’ve turned up is that there is a difference in what we consider the Big Sex Evil when it comes to men and women.  Men are often shamed for their “lust.”  You can see the evidence for this with a simple Google search.  There are literally thousands of web sites devoted to discussing, preventing, and treating lust (usually described in terms of porn and solo sex).  If men give in to their desires, it’s almost considered inevitable, given the fact that “all” men have issues with lust.  (Apparently, women don’t; we don’t have much a sex drive.)

Those aforementioned sermon illustrations, however, are obviously aimed at women (picking the petals off a flower and saying its beauty has been destroyed, anyone?).  I don’t personally know any men who are ashamed that they had sex before marriage, even Christian men.  I know far too many women who still, years later, beat themselves up over not waiting until walking down the aisle.  Included in this are the women who feel the need to excuse or explain the fact that their children are older than their marriages, despite the fact that it’s really not anyone else’s business.  I haven’t seen any men try to field that particular question.

One key difference between lust-shame and virginity-shame is that men aren’t considered damaged goods if they got off to Playboy.  They’re not all used up.  Again, men get to move on.  There may be ongoing shame, but only if they continue to interact with porn.  But once a woman’s virginity is gone, it’s gone.

I don’t think the answer is to make it more shameful for men to have premarital sex or for women to look at porn.  The answer is to stop using it as a weapon.  While I’m all for having morals and values when it comes to sex, I’m not much of a fan of using purity standards (of any kind) as a battle-ax.  I believe somewhere out there is a better way for us to think about and deal with sexual morality.