Mom, you might not want to read this. I say 'shit' three times including that one. And 'penis' once, twice, dammit! Sorry.
A lot of attention was given last month to Elizabeth Smart's speech at Johns Hopkins in which she (courageously/remarkably) discussed her horrific kidnapping ordeal. It was poignant for a variety of reasons, but for many Mormons (like me) it was poignant because we understand a bit about the lessons that Elizabeth internalized as a girl, and that in part held her psychologically captive while she was being held physically captive. The whole thing really hit home because as the father of three little Mormon girls I obsess with how Lori and I will effectively teach our girls to appreciate and cherish their sexuality without letting them become affected by the Christian purity culture that exists among some well-intentioned, though completely ill-advised, people within our particular religious group. Lori and I will not utilize lessons that are meant to be encouraging to all, but are actually only encouraging to virgins. Because for those who aren't virgins, it just sends a message of impurity and hopelessness. And they feel guilty. And usually it's the girl non-virgins who feel more shame than the boy non-virgins (because the double standard that exists in many Churches when it comes to teaching 'virtue' and purity to our boys and girls). And those sweet girls leave that lesson, and that building in which the lesson was heard, and they swear never to return. And I can't blame them. "Who wants a chewed up piece of gum or the doughnut everyone's touched?" Bullshit.
I know I'm a few weeks late to the conversation, but I've been collecting my thoughts** and trying to figure out how to articulate them. I have no idea if this represents a failed or successful attempt.
I want to begin by saying that this is not a matter of Mormon doctrine or Christian principles that is to blame, but rather institutional inertia perpetuated by individuals (a point articulated quite well in this Salon article) who lazily rely on fear and concepts of convenience. The issue deserves and requires so much more. It requires conversations and openness...and potentially some awkwardness. I am willing to be awkward if it means I might increase the likelihood that my daughters make responsible, informed, thoughtfully empowered sexual decisions.
Looking back on my life as a hormone-driven teenager, some of the reasoning behind my own decision-making might be valuable to my efforts as a father. Now, this is not to say that my decisions were the best, and my reasoning might be problematic on some levels, but I do feel that my decisions were based on factors that affect girls and boys in similar ways. And while I want to be sensitive to the fact that men telling women/girls how to feel/behave sexually has been problematic historically, I also think that finding the commonalities between the genders (despite obvious differences) might provide something of value.
I didn't have sex until I got married. Lori and I got married when we were 21. Good thing. I was about to die. As I taught Brennan a couple of years ago, we're supposed to be horny (I was more fatherly and diplomatic. Or not.). It's key to our survival as a species (and I believe central to more eternal plans, but let's keep it practical for a second). And while I probably bought into some of the sex scare tactics I heard in Church (my parents didn't use this tactic explicitly, to their credit) I've always been a little suspicious of things that people teach me; one lesson that made sense to me as a kid however, was that sex was powerful. It was powerful because it is the means by which another human being is created (holy shit!); it is powerful because it can form a powerful emotional bond (call me old-fashioned, but I believe this is the case and see plenty of evidence for it); but perhaps most importantly, while it is indeed powerful, I can have power over the power. Ok, now we're talking. Instead of letting it consume me, I could embrace and respect the power. Having the power over the power was way better (in my mind) than satisfying the urge to express the power—at least for a finite period of time. Ever up for a good competition, I basically pitted myself against my penis, recognizing that at some point I would be able to willfully and safely submit. In the meantime I would learn a little self-discipline. Couldn't hurt.
That said, my friends growing up sure did seem to be having a good time with the 'power.' A REALLY good time. And they were good people. I never thought of them as bad or impure and really the only time it bothered me was when they razzed me for my very open decision to not have sex. But honestly, it only bothered me for a few seconds. I never resented my guy friends or gal friends nor did I think they were 'whores' for having sex. And while there was a part of me (a growing, salient, AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! part of me) that wanted to join in the good time, it just wasn't for me. Not yet. And I had my reason.
I want our beautiful daughters to be powerful, not powerless. To act, not to be acted upon. And when they make the decision to have sex, it will be with knowledge of what they are signing up for. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I want our girls to recognize that just as it was for Lori and I when we made the decision to only exercise that power within the bond of marriage, it is a power in them and they can have power over that power. That it can be harnessed and channeled into a deeply meaningful and beautiful thing. I also want them to recognize that if the power gets the best of them (whatever that means), it's ok. They are of infinite worth and will never be devalued by us, or by a God who understands perfectly that this whole sexuality thing is a bit precarious. God doesn't care about gum or doughnuts. Neither do I. That's kind of a lie. I'm actually thrilled that doughnuts are the new cupcake and I can now unabashedly post pictures of myself eating a doughnut on Instagram. Thank you trendsetters.
All of this said, if this message is shared ineffectively with a 12-13 year old who is later sexually victimized, she may feel that she has been stripped of her power, and is therefore powerless. Which illustrates the delicateness of the topic and its presentation. It also further emphasizes the need for communicating that a victim is just that—a victim. And victims are not responsible for the atrocity they must so unjustly live with. But whether we are talking about sexual victims or active participants, the message must be that their value has not been compromised and that they do not have to be defined going forward by what has happened in the past.
We well-intentioned people get a lot of things wrong. But we have to try to get this right. We have to be willing to teach this stuff, talk about this stuff, and deal with this stuff in a healthy way that is free of harmful rhetoric and unproductive guilt. Zoe, Ava, Hayzel and a lot of other beautiful little women-to-be are depending on us.
** I received help from some of my favorite women as I thought through this. My favorite woman, Lori, was of little help. She was mostly just horrified that I was speaking publicly (albeit implicitly) about our amazing (i.e., failed) wedding night.
