Rebuilding a Sexual Ethic after Purity Culture

A conversation with Dr. Camden Morgante, author of the new book "Recovering from Purity Culture."

Five years ago, I wrote an essay for The New York Times about the collapse of purity culture for a generation of evangelicals, and the longing for a robust sexual ethic in its wake. In response, I predictably got it from both sides. Lori Alexander, aka The Transformed Wife (TM), concluded that “Ms. Beaty has fallen into the same game that the lukewarm Church wants to play with concerning sin.” Meanwhile, several commenters on the NYT page pitied me for being brainwashed by religion. I also received emails from men I don’t know encouraging me to freeze my eggs.

Photo by Yoann Boyer on Unsplash

We’re now arguably a decade into the deconstruction of purity culture, as many adults who grew up in evangelical churches grapple with lingering shame, unfulfilled promises (if you save sex for marriage, then God will give you a spouse, lots of great sex, lots of obedient children, and tickets to the Eras Tour), and warped views of the opposite gender. Several books, including Linda Kay Klein’s Pure, Sheila Wray Gregoire’s The Great Sex Rescue, Rachel Joy Welcher’s Talking Back to Purity Culture, and Emily Joy Allison’s #ChurchToo, have documented the effects of these teachings, especially on women. Still, Christians and post-Christians are seeking guidance on what comes after purity culture.

Licensed clinical psychologist Camden Morgante wants to help Christians heal their relationship with their own bodies and sexuality, as well as their relationship with God, and develop a sexual ethic that aligns with their values. In her new book, Recovering from Purity Culture (which I endorsed), she breaks down five myths of purity culture:

#1: The Spiritual Barometer Myth Virginity is a measure of one’s relationship with God, especially if you’re a woman.

#2: The Fairy-Tale Myth If you save sex for marriage, God will reward you with a happy and hot marriage.

#3: The Flipped Switch Myth If you save sex for marriage, your wedding night and subsequent romps in the bedroom will be steamy.

#4: The Gatekeepers Myth Women are responsible for managing men’s natural lusts.

#5: The Damaged Goods Myth If you have sexual intercourse prior to marriage, you will be less desirable as a romantic prospect and spouse (read: wife).

Camden and I spoke recently about the connection between purity culture and patriarchy, the well-documented “orgasm gap” among married men and women, and the sexual ethic she’s arrived at as a “purity culture survivor.” Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

KB: You open Recovering from Purity Culture with the story of pastor Matt Chandler yelling “Jesus wants the rose!” For a lot of readers the object lessons of purity culture will be familiar, whether it’s petals or bubble gum or spitting in a cup. Why do you think purity culture was drawn to these object lessons?

Because they’re powerful illustrations. It’s one thing to tell people, “Don’t have premarital sex because it can damage you,” but it’s another thing to pass around a cup of water with spit in it or pluck petals off a rose. Those illustrations stick out in our minds much longer than the initial message.

But that’s also why they’re so damaging, because decades later, someone may be having sex with their spouse or partner, and that image of a rose comes up in their mind and they may think, “Oh, am I that damaged rose? Am I no longer pure? Because I’m having sex, even if it is within marriage?” I hear that from clients.

I see this as a little t trauma for some people. The mind may be able to make the shift, but the body necessarily can’t because of the shame that was so attached to that illustration.

What would some of the other little t traumas of purity culture be?

I explain in my book that trauma is not just the traumatic event but the body’s response to an event. So it’s very subjective. Two people can experience the same event and come away with a very different response in their body.

With the purity culture messaging of, “Your body is bad, it needs to be subdued” or “your body belongs to your husband, you always have to give him sex” — all those messages are attached to the body. There’s a very embodied message there. And that can cause a trauma reaction for many of my clients.

Tina Schermer Sellers has identified that the sexual stories of sexual assault survivors looked very similar to those coming out of purity culture. There’s been empirical research that has shown that, and her research has shown similar outcomes. That’s often validating for my clients to hear, because sometimes they’ll say, “I wasn’t abused, why am I acting this way in sex with my own husband who I trust?”And I’ll tell them, there’s nothing wrong with you, that could be purity culture.

Do you think of purity culture as a form of abuse?

I think it can definitely cause religious trauma. It just depends on what the person heard or experienced. Some content creators, purity culture critics, say it’s a form of sexual abuse. I don’t go that far. I grew up in purity culture, I identify as a purity culture survivor, but I wouldn’t identify as a sexual abuse survivor. But I do believe it caused religious trauma for me and many others.

You and I both signed True Love Waits pledges at age 14. You also had a purity ring that you wore proudly, and you write that several girls in your high school youth group also had purity rings, but none of the boys did.

What’s going on here in terms of how purity culture was presented to boys and girls?

Purity has always been emphasized more for women. Historically, it’s looked at as part of her virtue and her desirability as a partner. We see that in Bridgerton. [See Camden’s Substack essay “What Bridgerton Reveals about Purity Culture.”] But in purity culture, there’s a sense of, he can’t help himself, virginity is too high of a standard for him. We can’t expect that from him. So it’s up to the girls to gate-keep the purity and to reinforce boundaries, and to be responsible for that when they’re dating, and then once they’re married to be sexually available to their husbands at all times.

Image: Liam Daniel/Netflix

Yes, to be “joyfully available,” as Michelle Duggar says.

I call that the gatekeeper myth. There’s just a lot of inequality between men and women in purity culture, from modesty messages of what we wear to boundaries before marriage, to “obligation sex” after marriage, to minimizing women’s desire and pleasure and making sex very male-centric.

All of this pits women and men against each other and harms their relationship because it’s not mutual. All of this is rooted in patriarchy, the idea that we can control and subdue women’s sexuality through messages of purity.

So the purity balls, for example, are very patriarchal and very much just marketed to girls and their fathers, who are the keepers of their virginity.

Are purity balls still a thing?

I’m sure they are in some fringe groups. There are still purity rings and pledges.

Image: A Father-Daughter Purity Ball in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Rich Wilking/Reuters

You write that purity culture teaches that penetrative intercourse is the “main event” when we’re talking about sex. Could you say a little bit more how those things are connected?

Purity culture emphasized that intercourse was the thing that changed you. Penetration was what changed you and made you a non-virgin. But if you engage in other sexual activities like oral sex, you were still a virgin. I mean, nobody really said that was okay; they might have said the opposite. But certainly people put all the focus on just avoiding intercourse. They didn’t define other activities as sex.

So once a couple gets married, a lot of times sex becomes just about intercourse, and those other activities that can be more pleasurable for women, more orgasmic, are downplayed or minimized. They’re just seen as optional. So it comes back to the male-centric view of sex, and they almost always orgasm from intercourse. And as Sheila Gregoire’s research has shown, there’s an orgasm gap, and women are much less likely to orgasm from intercourse.

Looking back on what I heard about sex in high school youth group and at these conferences, I very much got the message that I was not supposed to have sex before marriage. But truthfully, developmentally, I didn’t really know what sex was. My parents gave me some books to read. My conception of sex was so opaque. And then, I went to public high school, and we had, I think, two sex talks that were part of health class and the focus was on safe sex (“here’s how you put on a condom”).

So, do we need sex education in Christian communities? If so, what does positive sex education in a faith context look like?

The advice I give to parents is that it should be an ongoing conversation that builds on each other. In church, talking about sexual values or theology of sexuality in a Christian space can be an ongoing conversation. Overall, I think Christians can be really scared of comprehensive sex education, like it’s going to put thoughts in kids’ head or give them permission.

Basically we don’t have to be afraid of providing that information and empowering people with knowledge because that’s what allows them to make informed and thoughtful decisions, and to have a solid understanding of their values. So maybe the church’s responsibility is the values piece and the theology of sexuality.

Purity culture rarely gave us theological reasons beyond “because the Bible says so” or “because this is what God wants you to do” So a more holistic theology of sexuality, which includes, what is God’s purpose for our bodies and sex and a more robust theology of sin and grace, and the purpose of marriage. All of those theologies provide the foundation for a Christian sexual ethic.

When we talk about purity culture, we’re often talking about the damaging effects on girls and women. How does it also negatively affect men?

Zachary Wagner says that purity culture dehumanized women’s bodies and men’s minds. Men’s minds were considered debased, like they couldn’t control their thoughts or their lust.

In my clinical work, some of how I see it show up with married couples, and there can often be this sense of entitlement; “I’m entitled to sex from her a certain number of times a week” or “physical touch is my love language and this is a need for me.” There’s the sense that all your sexual needs are going to be fulfilled once you’re married.

Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash

So when that doesn’t happen, they are going to become angry at their wives, potentially, or they may become despondent. So there’s shame there, too. Overall, I believe self-control is the fruit of the Spirit. It’s not gender-specific, and so often, they’re robbing men of the opportunity to learn sexual self-control, which could serve them both before and after marriage.

The other way I see it showing up in the men I work with is having this narrow view of intimacy. For men, intimacy is just sex. But that leads to discounting these other important forms of intimacy, other ways that they can feel close and connected. And again, those other ways can often be more fulfilling for women. So I try to get couples to see a more holistic intimacy. Closeness and connection are a need, but sex is not.

You write that you value an ethic of premarital sexual abstinence, but are trying to strip away like the legalism and the strict gender roles. Many critics of purity culture would say like you have to throw out the baby with the bathwater, though. How would you respond to the critique that an abstinence-based sexual ethic is basically purity culture 2.0?

I hear this almost every day, Katelyn. The belief itself is not what makes something purity culture. It’s the false promises, the if-then formulas that coerce abstinence out of shame and fear. The keyword for me is choice. When this ethic of abstinence comes out of my values, my own consideration of theology, it’s my choice, it's not coerced or controlled or forced upon me. I have developed my own deeper why, my own deeper reasons for this ethic.

I think it’s important for anybody reading this to know that your book is not about telling readers what they should conclude. You’re trying to give people tools to construct their own sexual ethic. You’re doing so from a Christian framework and a Christian posture, but you’re not strong-arming people to agree with you.

I appreciate you picking up on that. Because we’ve already been told what to do and what to believe our whole life. So the last thing people need is another book or an expert to tell them what to do. I really wanted people to think through it themselves and come to their own deeper why.

I quote another purity culture critic who says everyone should have the opportunity to figure out their own values and to live according to those. Yet that person says we should throw out the baby with the bathwater. But my values are abstinence before marriage and faithfulness in marriage. I can’t really separate those values from my theology. It’s just interesting that there’s still a low tolerance for coming to those conclusions, even if you’ve done the work of figuring out your beliefs and values.

What’s liberating is not just swinging the pendulum and exchanging one packaged ethic for another. It’s figuring it out yourself and what you believe and making that choice for yourself. —KB