The Purity Myth: Campus Engagement Reflection

Jamie Crenshaw

Professor Meredith Tweed

WST 3015-0001

4 October 2012

The Purity Myth: Campus Engagement Reflection

             Growing up in a small beachside community it felt as though everyone knew everything about everyone. Personal information, if one was not careful, very quickly became public knowledge. As I grew older and entered high school, it became evident the subject gossip predominately focused on- sex. I was born into a very sheltered household with very sheltered friends; my mother would not even let me watch One Tree Hill on Tuesday nights as a young teenager. Entering high school as freshman I remember being shocked when I first heard of girls my age, many of whom I had known since kindergarten, cashing in their V-Cards. I was even more shocked when a girl in my grade became pregnant and dropped out. Entering my senior year, a little older and a little more fluent in the social workings of high school, it seemed that a large percentage of people that I knew were having sex.

I had always been starkly the most liberal of my close friends, whom were almost uniformly conservative wholesome girls that were extremely active in their church communities. In my last year of high school it seemed that this divide between our superficial disagreements deepened to a core level, although we remained very close. I was witness to many discussions about the religious holiness of remaining pure until marriage, which soon evolved into arguments as soon as I entered the discussion. All bejeweled with purity rings in place of future wedding bands, my friends were very public with their decision of staying “pure” until marriage, a decision that I accept wholeheartedly. One night after politely declining to attend a Christian concert and purity ring discussion with them they inquired about the reasons about my decision. I replied, “Because I don’t believe that my virginity defines me as a good or a bad person.” It was at that moment that I finally created into coherent thoughts (with ironically simple words) my stance on this issue that society seemed to be pulling me in two opposite directions about.

Dr. Santra’s introduction into the documentary “The Purity Myth: The Virginity Movement’s War Against Women”, was both lighthearted and humorous on a serious topic, and extremely enlightening. It was comforting hearing an educated and successful women’s experience with processing the societal tug of war between a conservative upbringing and social pressure to have sex. The documentary effectively deconstructed the subjects of the Virginity Movement that I found myself having issues with, but had never actually critically broken down into why- such as the ceremonial patriarchal transfer of property at weddings and the double standard in regard to how we condemn or applaud the virgin status of men and women in our society. The program also successfully highlighted aspects of the movement that I had never before considered, such as the exclusive archetype of a virginal female.

I found particularly disturbing the segment of the documentary focused around the Virginity Pledges being forced upon young girls, the majority of whom-in my opinion- cannot possibly be old enough to grasp the magnitude of their vows, whom attend large production daddy-daughter dances complete with tiny white dresses and ceremonial swords. The opposing perspectives presented in the piece, portrayed by radical abstinence only advocates and politicians, asserting that affordable and readily available access to birth control would simply increase the promiscuity of our youth and create social chaos, instead of simply protecting them from unwanted pregnancy or sexually transmitted diseases resonated throughout the room and visibly angered the audience.

 Leaving the presentation, I felt thankful that I grew up in a family that respects the decisions that I make for my own body, choosing to define their sentiments toward me more on how I treat those around me, my vision, and my character than on my sexual status, and ascetic commitment to a ring of silver.