Purity
I think there is a divine vision at the root of “purity” that remains a potent challenge today: that apart from oneself, on the other end of every sexual encounter is another self equally as mysterious and indefinable as existence.
I think there is a divine vision at the root of “purity” that remains a potent challenge today: that apart from oneself, on the other end of every sexual encounter is another self equally as mysterious and indefinable as existence.
Peak Allison Janney right here, but with numerous parental triggers: “engorged,” “testicle retrieval,” “heinous bitch,” and of course, “Reginald’s quivering member.”
I know some churches are trying. “Singles group” is a thing. But really? That’s depressing on a good day, patronizing on a bad one.
Why do we expect God to be sexually pure? As a woman, it’s fun to realize God and I have that in common.
Your body is not your enemy. And if you think it is, then treat it like an enemy: love it. Do good to it. Bless it. Pray for it.
Could my parents have admitted they were too busy or uncomfortable to teach me? Yes.
Am I mad, bro? No.
To the Church’s credit, I did not have premarital sex as a teenager. But there was also a lot of damage done.
Wear your womanhood however you prefer. Wear it as a low-cut tank top and your short-shorts in the park, drinking lemonade.
Those who drive sex education policies, it would seem, care more about ideology than accuracy—more about ideology, in fact, than effectiveness, teen moms, or lifelong diseases, either.
Daunted by the rightness of wrong, by the wrongness of right, by the thought that this is the nature of knowledge we inherit.