In 1993, at the tender age of 14, I took a pledge.
I promised not to have sex until my wedding night and to find a man who would honor that promise too.
I was taught that my body belonged to God, first and foremost, and then one day it would also belong to my husband. Then it would belong to my babies (and there would be babies, without a doubt).
At no point did I ever receive the message that my body belonged to me.
I was merely a gatekeeper, guarding my sexual purity in service of my god and future spouse. I wore a silver ring on my left ring finger as an outward symbol of my promise.
I was deeply steeped in the purity culture, as were my older brothers and all of our friends. My parents were devout Evangelical Christians, and all of our sexual education revolved around abstinence-only teachings and preparation for becoming a wife and mother. My parents talked openly about sex at home, explained the details of intercourse, and made it clear that it was nothing to be ashamed of, just so long as it was within the confines of marriage.
I was told in no uncertain terms that having sex outside of marriage was the worst thing I could do as a young woman.
And while I appreciated my parents' candid (by their standards) conversation, I also was hyper-aware that I had to completely shut down any sexual prowess to maintain that shiny, prized virginity.
And I did. I never allowed myself even to consider sex before marriage. I recruited my friends to join me on this purity pledge. I bought them rings if they could not afford to buy their own with money that I saved from working part-time at the mall. I was a pusher of purity, even taking my message to AIDS-ravaged Zambia and school girls in Kenya in my early 20's.
I was a 28-year-old virgin on my wedding day. This was not a technicality.
When we checked into our fancy hotel, I felt as though I was giving this beautiful man, my knight in shining armor, the most precious and special gift of me. I was proud. I made it. I wore my diamond ring as a badge of honor. Afterward, I felt empty.
My virginity was a cornerstone of my identity, and in a matter of minutes, it was gone for good.
My husband and I had, and continue to have, great sex. Of course, with nothing to compare it to, I can't know for sure. But there's primal attraction, intense passion, open communication, and great orgasms. Whenever the rest of our marriage has experienced devastating hardship and apocalyptic disaster, sex has remained a constant source of connection and pleasure and is the thing that consistently binds us together when everything else breaks down.
But this isn't the norm for people who were indoctrinated with purity culture. As girls, women are brainwashed to believe that anything related to sex is sinful. Then they're somehow expected to flip an imaginary switch and become sex goddesses on their wedding night.
You can imagine how well the wedding night and subsequent sexual interactions go for those women. But because our bodies don't belong to us, it doesn't matter. Only our husbands' needs and desires matter. Their success, their egos, their confidence, their masculinity, their ease, their pleasure, their orgasms.
It has taken a decade to undo our shared belief that I belong to my husband.
And, just as with any deconstruction process, it has been brutally painful and often disastrous. We had overlooked fundamental and essential truths about each other, all because we had our eyes on the prize: a Pure Life.
Teachings we both received discouraged women from declining sex without a holy reason. So when my husband wanted sex, since both of us held a shared belief that we were one spiritually, my refusal without good cause was not acceptable. But only my refusal — he could refuse any time he pleased. He was the husband, the leader, the provider, my spiritual covering, and protector.
Thoughts of refusal would trigger a hardwired, ancient edict playing on repeat in my head:
Wives, submit to your husbands.
Submit.
Submit.
The overwhelming shame and fear that grew in the fertile soil of purity culture isolated me from my peers, subjugated me to my husband, stole my autonomy, and cut me off from a divine connection.
I have hashed out my sexuality, my autonomy, and my marriage in therapy for the last 10 years. I hold my baby girl and look her in the eyes and speak to her the words I wish had been spoken to me.
You are full of light.
I respect you.
Your body and your desires are your own.
You are worthy of love and freedom.
You belong to yourself.
The world is yours to explore.
You are entirely lovable, just as you are.
And in so doing, I feel myself heal a little more, come back into my own body, emerge from the shame, and call myself home.
This story originally appeared on Ravishly and is reprinted here with permission. More from Ravishly:
- Experiencing Sexual Pleasure When You Have Pelvic Pain
- I'm At The End Of The Line With My Sex Addiction
- Yo, Being a 30 Year Old Virgin Isn't Weird. Get Over It.
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There's a reason why some people can perfectly copy accents, and others can't
Turns out, there's a neurodivergent link.
A woman in black long sleeve shirt stands in front of mirror.
Have you ever had that friend who goes on vacation for four days to London and comes back with a full-on Queen's English posh accent? "Oooh I left my brolly in the loo," they say, and you respond, "But you're from Colorado!" Well, there are reasons they (and many of us) do that, and usually it's on a pretty subconscious level.
It's called "accent mirroring," and it's actually quite common with people who are neurodivergent, particularly those with ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). According Neurolaunch, the self-described "Free Mental Health Library," "Accent mirroring, also known as accent adaptation or phonetic convergence, is the tendency to unconsciously adopt the accent or speech patterns of those around us. This linguistic chameleon effect is not unique to individuals with ADHD, but it appears to be more pronounced and frequent in this population."
Essentially, when people have conversations, we're constantly "scanning" for information—not just the words we're absorbing, but the inflection and tone. "When we hear an accent, our brains automatically analyze and categorize the phonetic features, prosody, and intonation patterns," writes Neurolaunch. For most, this does result in copying the accent of the person with whom we're speaking. But those with ADHD might be more sensitive to auditory cues. This, "coupled with a reduced ability to filter out or inhibit the impulse to mimic…could potentially explain the increased tendency for accent mirroring."
While the article explains further research is needed, they distinctly state that, "Accent mirroring in individuals with ADHD often manifests as an unconscious mimicry of accents in social situations. This can range from subtle shifts in pronunciation to more noticeable changes in intonation and speech rhythm. For example, a person with ADHD might find themselves unconsciously adopting a Southern drawl when conversing with someone from Texas, even if they’ve never lived in the South themselves."
People are having their say online. On the subreddit r/ADHDWomen, a thread began: "Taking on accents is an ADHD thing?" The OP shares, "My whole life, I've picked up accents. I, myself, never noticed, but everyone around me would be like, 'Why are you talking like that??' It could be after I watched a show or movie with an accent or after I've traveled somewhere with a different accent than my 'normal.'
They continue, "Apparently, I pick it up fast, but it fades out slowly. Today... I'm scrolling Instagram, I watch a reel from a comedian couple (Darcy and Jeremy. IYKYK) about how Darcy (ADHD) picks up accents everywhere they go. It's called ADHD Mirroring??? And it's another way of masking."
(The OP is referring to Darcy Michaels and his husband Jeremy Baer, who are both touring comedians based in Canada.)
Hundreds of people on the Reddit thread alone seem to relate. One comments, "Omfg I've done this my whole life; I'll even pick up on the pauses/spaces when I'm talking to someone who is ESL—but English is my first language lol."
Sometimes, it can be a real issue for those around the chameleon. "I accidentally mimicked a waitress's weird laugh one time. As soon as she was out of earshot, my family started to reprimand me, but I was already like 'oh my god I don’t know why I did that, I feel so bad.'"
Many commenters on TikTok were shocked to find out this can be a sign of ADHD. One jokes, "Omg, yes, at a store the cashier was talking to me and she was French. She's like 'Oh are you French too? No, I'm not lol. I'm very east coast Canada."
And some people just embrace it and make it work for them. "I mirror their words or phrase! I’m 30. I realized I start calling everyone sweetie cause my manager does & I work at coffee shop."