Sex and Growing Up in a Religious Household

In high school, the only computer in the house had a giant Samsung PC monitor that faced the entire kitchen—whether you were eating, shooing the cat from eating yogurt off the counter, or sniffing old leftovers in the fridge, you could always see what the family member was searching on that big screened computer. High school was also the time before everyone had smartphones; I had a trusty keyboard slider with no access to the interwebs like I do now. Needless to say, to sneakily find out anything that may be deemed as “inappropriate” on the Internet was difficult, especially when it came to learning about sex. When I couldn’t reach the Internet and when having a completely cleared search history seemed just as suspicious as seeing Pornhub in the history, being able to learn about my hormones and how to give a hand job was hard to come by. Not only was this a little tough, but the only thing I remember about my mother teaching me about sex was her saying, “It’s like when two buttered pieces of bread are stuck together - they become one. But then when you try to peel them apart, the two pieces of bread break apart into different pieces - and not into their original state.” That’s right, my mother did not even say the word sex, but instead basically stated that if you do this certain thing, a person will just use you for sex and you’ll be clingy and gonna be heartbroken and sad and broken apart and they’ll leave you and you’re not mature enough to handle it and THE WORLD WILL CRASH DOWN AND YOU’LL BE ALONE AND AHH—Oh, sorry.

I was raised by conservative, Christian baby boomers who not only stated that sex before marriage is sinful and impure according to the word of God, but also believed that having sex before marriage will harm you. Sex and other sexual acts before marriage were considered “dangerous,” but luckily in my twenties I’ve realized that’s not really true - unless you have unprotected sex with those who may or may not have STDs or fracture someone’s penis while doing cowgirl. Ultimately, if you believe sex before marriage is sinful for various reasons, that’s your right to think that. However, please let this article be a testament to show that although you may believe one thing, your offspring may not agree and they may end up having sex at prom while you’re away at Bible Study. You can teach your children the values you want to teach, but in order to decrease your chances of being a grandparent much earlier than expected, it may be best for religious households to consider better sex talks.

I would go to church gatherings that would talk about why it’s important to hold off sex until marriage and that “God will give you the guy you’re looking for at the right time.” At first, this seemed all fine and dandy—I’ll get a great guy when I’m old, married, and 24 (the age I am now—not married), but my raging hormones got the best of me and I found a loophole (raging hormones always find loopholes). You see, what I’ve noticed is that many of these Christian youth group leaders fail to define “sex.” 16-year-olds end up thinking these people at church just want to tell you to not do penis/vagina intercourse, so they get it in the ass and do 69 with their best friends and scream, “I didn’t have intercourse! I ain’t goin’ to hell today!” And this is exactly what I did: almost every sexual act but intercourse until 21, thanks to youth group leaders who left “sex” up to interpretation (something they may or may not be doing with the Bible itself).

Knowing how to do sexual acts was hard when abstinence-only education in my family and church delayed some of the exploration. The first time I tried giving a hand job, I grabbed on to the penis with both hands, became dumbly stumped as I stared at it, and I kind of rubbed it…? The guy had to suggest, “Maybe you should try using one hand.” Oh man glad I know that one now. I went to the movie theater with my first boyfriend ever and when he rubbed me in the dark seating area, I thought my getting wet meant I was having an orgasm. I’m glad I was wrong on that one. I took a little too long in realizing that I have separate holes down there and my friends would often be alarmed by my lack of knowledge on how to make someone cum.

Even with all of these experiences suddenly helping me slowly but surely understand sex, the weight of suspecting that I was doing something “impure” would exhaust me and my chest would get heavy. I know I’m not the only one who deals with “sexual guilt” as a result of growing up in a religious household. The constant Bible verses on being faithful to God, the utter silence from my parents that sexual attraction even existed, and the shame from sneaking around would cause me to have moments of panic—“Will I go to hell?” “I enjoyed that—I shouldn’t have enjoyed that.” “No one was harmed, but why do I feel like a horrible human being?”

Another Christian youth group leader in the church showed me and other female high school students a neatly wrapped present. She said that we are all gifts from God and by having sex, we, “the gifts,” would be shattered, ruined, and torn apart. We would suddenly not be this clean, neatly wrapped present from God and she ripped apart the present to demonstrate this metaphor. An empty gift box carcass that looked like it’d been plucked apart by vultures. At the time, I was a little weirded out by it, but accepted that this was some sort of truth. Later, I looked back and realized it’s dangerous to state that having sex is equatable to being “wrecked” and “unclean;” it’s also problematic that we can’t have sex if we want to, since this higher being forbids it and we belong to him. I began to feel this thinking is restrictive and suffocating; I realized it contributes to the culture of slut shaming.

I would come home late at night my senior year of high school in hopes of my mother continuously believing that I was spending time at my friend’s house instead of knowing that I, dare I say it, was at a boy’s house. The Bibles on the living room end tables, the disgust my father had whenever he heard of a friend’s kid who was “fornicating,” and the sermon podcasts that talked about sinful temptations kept me quiet about anything that may remotely make them think I was doing sexual things with boys. Even at 24, when I bring my boyfriend home for the holidays, she calls him my friend. She'd also be disappointed if I moved in with him before marriage.

As time has gone on, my faith has developed throughout the years in different ways and I’ve felt it’s ridiculous to claim that something suddenly becomes “good” or “bad” depending on whether there’s a marriage license. Rushing into marriage in order to have sex is probably unhealthy and it must be difficult to shake off the thinking that sex is impure even after a person is married. I’ve been jealous of those who have families that are more open-minded and relaxed about sex and sexuality, but I’ve mostly become content in just being accepting and knowledgeable about these things myself in adulthood. Whatever the case was then, I’ve grown up to think differently, with the added bonus of understanding some of the hurdles that teenagers in the coming-of-age phase can face in religious Christian households.