If Masturbation Makes You Blind, I Should be Daredevil: A personal, honest reflection on growing up in purity culture — and what it didn’t teach us.

This is a personal and raw reflection. It’s funny. It’s uncomfortable. And it’s something I wish I had read twenty years ago. There are adult themes, topics, and words. Consider this a trigger warning. Ready? Here we go.

Daredevil is a property of Disney Entertainment by way of Marvel Entertainment. Neither contributed to the article. Art used with Creative Commons in mind. Daredevil is awesome.

I grew up in Evangelical churches as a child in the heat of the Tennessee humidity and the height of purity culture. I was told masturbating was a sin. I was told that it'd make me blind, grow hair on my hands, and that my equipment would start to bleed. Twenty years later, I have no hands full of hair, no bleeding equipment, and I need glasses. Two out of three ain't bad.

As a teenager, I didn't realize the harm being done to my developing mind. Instead of discussing the consequences in a reasonable and scientific manner, I was told, "Just don't do it." I was told, "Abstinence is the best policy." As an adult, I realize how incredible moronic this was. If you tell a teenager not to do something, what is the first thing they're going to do? They're going to push the limits of that rule. They're going to push and push the line as close as they can. This led to teenagers doing everything but sex (ironically, including butt-sex). To be crude for the illustration, as long as the dick wasn't in the vagina, it wasn't sex.

But were they right to teach us that? Were they putting us in danger, or were they trying to save us? Were they grooming us for experiences they wanted to "educate" us, or were they simply projecting the culture of yesteryear onto the youth? Let's take a look.

PART 1: What They Taught

When it comes to the topic of "masturbation," the Bible itself is quiet on the matter. Even in the book The Handbook for Spiritual Warfare by Dr. Ed Murphy from 1992, the term "Autosexuality" is used in place of "masturbation." As if that's not illustration enough as to how far removed these males (yes, it was mostly men giving out these rules) were. Personally, "autosexuality" makes me think of someone being kinky with Grease Lightning or a Porsche. I mean, cars are sexy, but dude, be serious.

Off topic, but that book is legitimately hilarious. The link directs you to a PDF that you can read for yourself if you're curious. It explains the thought process as to why the Evangelical church blames the devil for everything–literally everything–they think of what's wrong with the world. It is also worth noting that Dr. Ed Murphy (above) is credited as "Edward F. Murphy" on Amazon, rather than "Ed Murphy," the activist and Vietnam War Veteran. His website and work you can find, here.

In the Handbook, Murphy gives three reasons that it's sinful from another Evangelical theologian's work from 1975: (1) when it's focused solely on biological pleasure (2) when it becomes a complusive habit and (3) when it results from "inferior feelings" and causes "guilt feelings." He cites pornography explicitly as sinful based on Matthew 5:28. In other words, masturbation is sinful because it is either a result of or enhances lust. Therefore, he resolves, we should avoid it completely.

This spread like wildfire among the Christian belief system, but it was merely fuel on a suppressed fire that had been started much earlier. In the book Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation by Kristin Kobes Du Mez, she writes:

Purity culture emerged as a cohesive movement in the 1990s, but it drew on teachings long championed by conservative evangelicals accustomed to upholding stringent standards of female sexual "purity" while assigning men the responsibility of "protecting" women and their chastity. Female modesty was a key component of purity culture. If men were created with nearly irrepressible, God-given sex drives, it was up to women to rein in men's libidos. Wives were tasked with meeting husbands' every sexual need, but it was the responsibility of women and girls to avoid leading men who were not their husbands into temptation.

Part 2: What They Didn't Teach

Ironically, the biggest hole (grow up) in the purity culture teaching was consent. Apparently, that wasn't important. They didn't teach the Bible stories that taught about consent and even enforced their tenant on male protectors–the Rape of Tamar in 2 Samuel 13. For a historical context, consent wasn't a thing then, but the fact that it was included in the Old Testament should have told evangelical leaders that women are their own person, and how blaming someone else for your lusts was a sin. But it didn't.

The Rape of Tamar. Eustache Le Sueur French, c. 1640. (Public Domain).

There was talk about our bodies being made in the "image of God." There was talk of the pleasures of sex, and how sex was good, created by God for a husband and wife. It wasn't for kids. Again, if you tell this to kids, what do they do? Little kids pretend they're grown-ups. Teenagers act it out. Telling a teenager that "it's good for me, not for thee" is hypocritical, allowing another hole to appear.

The real lesson that is hidden in the battle over purity is the mental anguish of parenthood. It's the image of our children becoming adults and no longer being the newborns we brought home.

They didn't teach us that a part of the purity culture was the psychological effects of sex with a consenting partner. They didn't teach about how to navigate the expected social norms of attraction, rejection, or even the power of emotional intimacy. While they left the mechanics to the schools' health classes (when they weren't protesting), they failed to aid us in navigating the whirlpool of the effects the experience would have on our psyche, regardless of gender.

Part 3: What Experience Taught

I listened well and obeyed the rules of purity culture for the majority of my youth. Losing my V-card at the age of 19, I lost it in my ever-present chase of "the one." Looking back, I realize that the chase for "the one" was less about finding a lifelong partner and more about finding someone who completed me. I thought saving myself for marriage would help that. Instead, it made me a selfish lover. It made me more lustful. Like water in the desert, when you can't have it, it becomes the thing you want the most.

Purity culture thinks it's protecting kids, but in reality, it's preventing them from learning to protect themselves.

After I lost my virginity, I clung to my girlfriend at the time like a lost puppy. I gave her zero air, socially. I wanted to spend every single minute with her, not allowing her to be herself. Was this right to do? No. I had my identity for so long in how people thought of me, that after we broke up, I slowly became a selfish lover. It was less about the true fulfillment of both parties involved and more about me getting my rocks off. I had to completely deny the church to find true love, and only then did I learn what it means to be what purity culture would try to teach. Experience taught me everything; the church guilted me into thinking Jesus hated me for natural feelings.

Part 4: What I'd Teach Now

As a parent of two girls, I know they will be ogled. I know the statistics regarding sexual assault. I know I've also taught them to fight. I know that no matter how much I've taught them to be safe, they're going to make mistakes, or that people will take advantage of them. I know this. The real lesson that is hidden in the battle over purity is the mental anguish of parenthood. It's the image of our children becoming adults and no longer being the newborns we brought home. We can't protect them from everything, but we can equip them with the skills to handle difficult situations before they arrive.

Antonio Guillem. Shutterstock.

As a youth pastor, I taught Christian ethics to middle schoolers and high schoolers as one of my initial lessons. I taught them what the "straight and narrow" really meant, telling them it's the thin line between values and vice that we walk when we make a choice. I taught them the Fruits of the Spirit, the Deadly Sins, and Aristotle in one lesson. I was later fired from that position. Guess that thinking was too "round peg" for that "squared hole."

You're not gross. Your body is good. It was made as a divine instrument, and it's up to us to understand what we're playing with. We can't let someone else's fear write your sexual story.

Purity culture thinks it's protecting kids, but in reality, it's preventing them from learning to protect themselves. Instead, we ought to be teaching empathy. We ought to be teaching how to navigate the landmines rather than giving them more to place as they walk. Mutuality and empathy are more important than caging them behind a "culture" and victim blaming an entire gender because they weren't "modest enough."

Sex isn't just the physical act. It's not just penis inserting into the vagina. It's the shared emotional intimacy acted out in the physical intimacy. It isn't just emotional, nor is it just physical. It's both and more. It's social. It's spiritual. It isn't meant just for married couples; it's for everyone. The caveat is developing a framework for making wise decisions to address any and all repercussions. If the only instruction is "don't," then when we eventually "do," there's nothing but guilt, shame, and fear left to process. And if your entire belief structure is based on fear, then it would be expected that love, empathy, and grace have no room to stay in your inn.

If I had been your youth pastor, I'd conclude by telling you that you're not broken. You're not gross. Your body is good. It was made as a divine instrument, and it's up to us to understand what we're playing with. We can't let someone else's fear write your sexual story.

CONCLUSION: Your Turn

What did you learn through your experience? Were you a part of purity culture? Tell me in the comments. Tell me what you wish you learned as a teenager, or one message you might go back and tell your teenage virgin self.

With All My Heart,

Geoffrey Breedwell