In our high school sex education class, the instructors—who were often male gym coaches—presented us with slides depicting various genitalia afflicted with alarming sores. This was one strategy aimed at deterring us from engaging in sexual activity. Another approach involved the teachers addressing our anonymous questions, which we submitted in slips of paper, drawn from a literal hat. However, they rarely provided real answers, leading some clever students to ask ridiculous questions, like, “What STD can you get at Red Lobster? Crabs!” The situation felt more like a joke than an educational experience, and unfortunately, our inadequate sexual education left lasting scars.
The focus was primarily on the two major risks associated with sex: pregnancy and STDs. There was scant discussion about consent, boundaries, or anything other than vaginal intercourse. I remember one teacher showing us how to put a condom on a banana—a demonstration that understandably upset many parents. This created the impression that everything besides vaginal sex was acceptable. The same “don’t have sex” messages echoed in church, where we were taught that straying from the strict path of abstinence could invoke divine punishment, though the specifics of this punishment remained unclear.
The True Love Waits movement epitomized purity culture, insisting that our virginity was a precious gift meant solely for our future spouse. The ultimate goal was to save oneself for marriage and then embrace a life of unrestrained sexual activity, ideally leading to procreation at a rapid pace. This framework promised a sin-free, fulfilling life while preserving our family’s honor—everyone wins, right?
If you’ve seen Bridgerton, you might recall the scene where Daphne attempts to talk about sex with her mother, only to receive zero useful information. This is reflective of the prevailing message back then—and still in some circles today—that the answer is simply “don’t do it.” Your virginity is a treasure, not to be given away lightly. True love, it seems, is conditional on waiting.
In our youth group, many of us wore our virginity as a badge of honor. Some even donned wristbands proclaiming that “true love waits,” which we planned to replace with wedding rings one day. We were steeped in Joshua Harris’ book, I Kissed Dating Goodbye, a text the author later denounced. Its central thesis suggested that God desired us to engage in courtship—a kind of pre-marriage preparation—while adhering to strictly platonic gestures like side-hugs and the occasional kiss on the cheek until the wedding night.
While there is nothing inherently wrong with choosing to wait until marriage to have sex, the issue lies in the absence of informed consent regarding one’s boundaries. Those steeped in abstinence-only education were rarely given the knowledge to make informed decisions.
For me, the True Love Waits movement distorted my perception of sex and hindered my ability to engage in healthy sexual relationships, both with myself and with partners. The movement’s extremism went from strict abstinence to an unclear understanding of what was permissible. Many youth group members explored sexual activities, including oral sex, without realizing they were crossing boundaries, as long as pregnancy did not occur.
We were never educated about our bodies, nor was there any discussion about masturbation, the significance of regular gynecological exams, STD testing, or birth control options. Like the characters in Bridgerton, we were expected to enjoy a lifetime of fulfilling sex with our one true love after marriage, yet this fantasy rarely aligns with reality. Girls raised in purity culture often had no understanding of their bodies, what an orgasm was, or that experiencing one was perfectly natural and not sinful.
The church was quick to condemn behaviors like homosexuality, divorce, and premarital sex, focusing primarily on what we should avoid. This led to a narrative that placed the onus of temptation on girls, compelling us to dress modestly and suppress any sexual urges. This taught us that normal sexual desires were shameful, and I found myself grappling with guilt over basic human feelings.
How could we possibly shed this guilt the moment we tied the knot? The truth is, it’s nearly impossible. After being ingrained with the notion that sex is a complex mix of mystery, responsibility, and sin outside of marriage, transitioning into a sexual relationship post-wedding became fraught with challenges.
It has taken me years to unlearn the damaging lessons of my upbringing regarding sex. Replacing feelings of embarrassment and confusion is not a quick process. We can’t simply switch on a fulfilling and healthy sexual life with ourselves or our partners.
I feel a sense of resentment that purity culture and the lack of comprehensive sex education robbed me and so many of my peers of enriching experiences. What did we lose by being unable to overcome the belief that our desires for sex were inherently wrong? All we can do now is continue to process the past and pursue healthier futures, ensuring that we do not pass on the same harmful teachings to our children. One thing I’ve learned is that there was little truth and no love in the True Love Waits movement.
For further insights into sex education and its implications, you might find this blog post helpful.
Summary:
The author reflects on the effects of growing up during the True Love Waits movement, which distorted their understanding of sex through inadequate education focused on fear rather than informed consent. The piece critiques the purity culture and emphasizes the importance of comprehensive sex education to foster healthy relationships and understanding of sexuality.