Recovering from Purity Culture: Dismantle the Myths, Reject Shame-Based Sexuality, and Move Forward in Your Faith

In one of the weirdest episodes of my years at a conservative Christian college, the entire female student population assembled one evening to be told that we had to give up “stretch pants,” the late eighties precursor to yoga pants, because we were causing our brothers in Christ to stumble.

As a student without a lot of extra cash, this meant giving up much of my casual wardrobe and wearing clothes that were much less comfortable. Several months later, we reassembled again and were told we could now resume the wearing of stretch pants. Whether our brothers were no longer stumbling or not, we were never told.

The women on campus were already accustomed to having their skirt lengths measured as well as their bodices scrutinized for adequate coverage. Many of us had been counselors at Christian camps, where our tank top straps were measured for some arbitrary acceptable width. We knew we were the gatekeepers of our brothers’ sexuality, and because “modest was hottest,” or so we were told, we were willing to do our part to help them.

However, even then, it seemed unfair and strange. I didn’t know the harmful messages that were seeping through the wackiness—that I was responsible to keep my brother from lusting by what I wore and how I behaved. That if my brother did lust, it would have been my fault.

This story would have fit well into Dr. Camden Morgante’s openhearted and empathetic book, a trove of insight into deconstructing the harmful messages of “purity culture” and replacing them with healthy, hopeful, and restorative precepts. Though purity culture dominated the Evangelical world in the 1990s and 2000s, with fervent “purity ring” ceremonies, “purity balls,” and “True Love Waits” rallies, it was already woven into the fabric of Evangelical culture for many years.

Morgante begins her book with a story about a rousing sermon at the 2009 Desiring God conference. The pastor compared a “jacked-up rose,” with its petals broken off, to a young woman who does not save herself for marriage. Other metaphors of not waiting for sex until marriage included spit in a paper cup, “well-used mattresses,” and chewed-up gum. Morgante makes the point that Jesus does not want his precious image bearers to be compared to jacked-up roses or spit. We are so much more than whether or not we saved ourselves for marriage, but that truth was lost on purity culture proponents, who taught, overtly and otherwise, that “you will prove your spiritual maturity through your virginity,” she writes.

Though many teachers of this way of thought were well-meaning—wanting young people to avoid the harms of having sex too young and valuing the sanctity of sex—sadly, “fear and shame were the twin swords used in the battle against promiscuity and the war to subdue and control women.”

Another harmful lie was that if you did save yourself (and presumably not show enough skin to “defraud” your brother, as some people taught), you would be blessed with a spouse and the best sex life ever, and your marriage would be fantastic.

As a therapist, Morgante has met countless women in her practice who came of age during the reign of purity culture, who not only did not experience a great sex life in their marriage, they developed sexual disorders in disproportionate numbers, in some cases at a rate of twice the general population. Many teens who grew up with this messaging ended up deconstructing their faith to the point that they left it entirely. The author points out a high correlation between purity culture and mental health problems. Some people shaped by distorted teachings embraced hook-up culture, which is just as harmful in a different way.

Both women and men were hyper-sexualized by these restrictive teachings, with women’s bodies being seen as dangerous and threatening, and men being deemed unable to control themselves. This construct badly dehumanizes men and women and leaves no room for forgiveness and restoration.

Morgante proposes a third way—the “shaping of a sexual ethic that aligns with our values and beliefs without the weight of shame and control hovering over us.”

There is “good fruit” to be born when believers embrace a robust, grace-filled, “values-congruent” sexual ethic that honors God-given sexuality. “No longer wounded by our past, we can choose to live integrated lives, with our body, heart, and soul in alignment with God’s will for us,” she writes.

Wise, profound, and hope-filled, Recovering From Purity Culture is a gift to anyone who wants to disentangle from the harmful messages of rigid teachings. There is a path forward, Morgante encourages her readers. And it is filled with so much goodness. (BakerBooks)