Indoctrination Part 3: Purity Culture and the Shame That Lingers
Purity culture was never just about sex.
It was about silence. About obedience. About shaping how we saw ourselves, before we even knew who we were.
In many high-control religious systems, purity culture was taught as protection. A way to “honor God with your body.” But behind the promises of worth and belonging were systems of shame, fear, and control.
The Roots of Purity Culture: Control Disguised as Care
Purity culture teaches that sexual thoughts, desires, or actions, especially outside of heterosexual marriage, are sinful and dangerous. For many, this teaching began early, long before they had words for curiosity, consent, or connection.
Modesty talks in youth group. Purity rings handed out at 13. Messages that equated your worth with your virginity; your godliness with your restraint.
If you “stumbled,” you were damaged. If you felt desire, it meant something was wrong with you. And if you said no? Sometimes it didn’t matter, because purity culture rarely taught the importance of enthusiastic consent. It taught how to submit.
The Aftermath: Shame, Silence, and Disconnection
In my work with clients, I often hear the same echoes:
“Desire always felt dirty, like just wanting something made me bad.”
“No one ever asked me what I wanted. Consent never included me. So when I needed to say no, I didn’t know how. I only knew how to go along.”
“I still go numb during sex. It’s like my body doesn’t know I’m allowed to be here.”
Purity culture doesn’t end at the altar. It lingers in the nervous system, the relationships, the bedroom. It trains people— especially women, queer folks, and BIPOC individuals— to shrink themselves. To distrust their own bodies. To carry shame for being human.
Even in marriage, many find themselves unable to access desire, to communicate needs, or to feel present during sex. Others feel haunted by purity messages despite no longer believing them.
The impact isn’t just spiritual; it’s somatic. And the grief is real.
What I Was Taught
I was taught that purity was everything. That guarding my heart meant burying my desires. That if I wore the wrong thing, thought the wrong thing, wanted the wrong thing, I was no longer clean.
I remember being told my virginity was a “gift” for my future husband. That any deviation would make me like “a used and no longer sticky piece of tape” or a “a chewed-up piece of gum.” There was no room for nuance. No space for consent. No recognition of the trauma some of us had already endured.
And like many, I believed this was what God wanted.
It took years to realize that purity culture wasn't about holiness. It was about power.
If You're Still Carrying the Shame
Maybe you’ve deconstructed the beliefs, but your body still flinches. Maybe you’re trying to explore desire, but it still feels like sin. Maybe you're tired of trying to earn back your worth.
You’re not alone.
Healing from purity culture isn’t about swinging to the opposite extreme. It’s about reclaiming the right to choose, to feel, to explore, to enjoy, and to exist in your body without shame.
It’s about remembering that your body is not a battleground.
It’s not easy work. But it is sacred.
What Healing Might Look Like
Learning that desire is not the same as danger
Exploring boundaries and wants without judgment
Naming the grief of what was never taught, or taken too soon
Building safety in your body through somatic and narrative care
Reclaiming bodily autonomy as your own sacred right
Reimagining faith that doesn’t demand your silence
There’s no checklist for this kind of healing. Only an invitation: to come home to yourself.
You were never meant to live disconnected from your own body. If you're untangling the harm of purity culture or religious trauma, you deserve support that sees the sacredness of your story. Therapy can be a place to soften the shame, rebuild trust in yourself, and begin the journey home.
This post is part of a larger conversation.
In the coming months, I’ll be exploring additional blog posts on purity culture, unpacking topics like modesty, the illusion of “emotional purity,” the erasure of queer identity and desire, how purity culture intersects with rape culture and bodily autonomy, and more. If this post resonated, know that more is coming. You’re not alone in asking hard questions, and you’re not wrong for wanting to know more.