One Unto Herself
*Trigger Warning: Sexual Abuse*
If talking about sex makes you uncomfortable, me too. Yet here we are… I know this can be a delicate subject and I have family who will read this so I’ll try to be as sensitive as possible.
As a teenager going through layers upon layers of trauma all stemming from sexual assault as a child, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with sex. The word alone still makes me cringe. I couldn’t possibly fathom a world where I would one day willingly want to engage in any kind of sexual activity. In fact, it baffled me why anyone would want that and I was perfectly content to remain in a celibate lifestyle. It was so disgusting to even think about the human body in that way… gross. I had a couple of boyfriends in my late teens who I was attracted to but the attraction stopped beyond their face or personality. I was okay to kiss, hold hands, and cuddle but anything else was strictly off limits; I wanted no part of it. Even imagining something more made me feel so dirty inside. On top of all that, was the pain associated with feeling “used” and “tainted”. I wholeheartedly knew that what happened to me wasn’t my fault but I couldn’t help but feel like I had been wasted… no one would want me anyway. I don’t know if those feelings of worthlessness came from my religious upbringing or my own shame but they existed nonetheless.
I felt this way until I met my ex-husband. I was several months away from turning 21 and for the first time in my life, I could envision the possibility of having a healthy sex life. I didn’t know what that looked like but our relationship gave me little glimmers of hope. Maybe I wasn’t incapable of enjoying intimacy post trauma. And maybe, just maybe, I could be desired fully and purely by another individual- despite what I had been through.
Fast forward to about a month before my wedding… a coworker knew I was waiting for marriage, and she asked if I was excited to have sex. I told her that if anything I was having anxiety over it and I explained that I was a survivor of sexual assault. She responded with, “Oh, so you’re not a virgin?” I was completely taken aback and I’m not even sure how I replied. I had always considered myself to be but the idea that someone would think I wasn’t because of my past was honestly heartbreaking. What happened to me wasn’t consensual by any means; choices were made for me. Choices that took so much. I would never let it take that. Ever.
For a long time I thought of virginity as something to be taken or to lose. I believed that it should be a personal decision on whether that title belongs to you or not. While I still feel that way, I view virginity a little differently now. I read something recently that gave me a whole new perspective on the word. The Greek translation of virgo (virgin) means, “one unto herself”. With this is mind, virginity represents freedom, self-sufficiency, and wholeness. Perhaps it has nothing to do with purity and everything to do with sexual independence. Virginity belongs to each of us as an expression of our own sovereignty. This insight has helped me regain my personal authority and bodily autonomy that for so long I felt had been taken from me. For far too long, the word virgin has been used to shame and control women (and men) but it can’t be taken from you if you don’t let it.
Thankfully, sex hasn’t been a problem like I always thought it would be. In fact, I find it to be fun and a wonderful expression of love. I have felt so much shame over various things in my life but intimacy, sexual feelings, thoughts, and desires, are no longer one of them. It is a gift to myself and my relationship. I am worthy of giving and receiving pleasure and so are you.