Healing From Purity Culture: Reclaiming Your Body, Voice, and Boundaries
By Kaela Buggy, Graduate Intern
If you grew up in youth group in the 90s or 2000s, you might still be able to recite the pledge:
“Believing that true love waits, I make a commitment to God, myself, my family, my future spouse…”
Maybe you signed a card or wore a ring or sat through talks where your body was compared to a chewed-up piece of gum or a used piece of tape. Maybe you were told to be “modest,” “pure,” and “a good example,” or maybe you were told that you are innately out of control and warned not to “stumble.” And maybe now, years later, you’re left with questions, shame, disconnection from your own body, or a deep ache you can’t quite name.
This is the quiet aftermath of purity culture. And if you’re here, you’re probably ready for something more healing and honest: a way to reclaim your body, voice, and boundaries without having to give up your integrity, your faith, or your sense of self.
What Was Purity Culture, Really?
Purity culture wasn’t just about teaching kids to wait for marriage. It was an entire system of beliefs, practices, and images that wrapped sexuality, gender, and morality into one tight bundle.
Some core messages many of us absorbed:
Sex before (heterosexual) marriage damages you. You’re dirty, used up, less valuable, less lovable.
Your body is a problem to manage, not a home to live in. Desire, arousal, curiosity, and attraction were framed as dangerous, sinful, or something you “battle.”
Gender is a rigid script. Men were cast as leaders, initiators, and visually-driven; women as gatekeepers, supporters, and temptations-in-waiting.
Suffering is your fault. If you were assaulted, “what were you wearing?” If your partner crossed a boundary, “how far did you let it go?” If you’re queer, trans, or anywhere outside the binary, your very existence was framed as rebellion against God.
These messages didn’t just exist in sermons or books. They lived in policies, youth group talks, Bible studies, government-funded abstinence programs, and the everyday comments of adults we trusted. So if you feel like purity culture got into your bones, you’re not being dramatic. It was designed to be woven into the way you view the world.
How Purity Culture Gets Inside Your Story
Purity culture doesn’t just give you rules; it gives you a story of who you are.
About your body: Your body becomes something to constantly monitor and control. You may be constantly aware of how it looks, what it feels, how others might interpret it. Instead of being a source of wisdom, your body becomes a liability.
About your desire: Sexual feelings get labeled as dangerous. You’re told to “turn them off” until a wedding day magically flips a switch. If you can’t, you’re told you’re weak or sinful.
About your voice: If you’re a woman or femme, you may have learned to “submit,” to be agreeable, to downplay discomfort, to protect others from your honesty. If you’re queer or trans, you may have learned to silence yourself completely just to survive. If you are a man or masculine, you may have been taught that your body is out of your own control; that others’ existence around you shapes how you are physically able to show up in the world.
About your boundaries: Boundaries weren’t about what you needed to feel safe and whole. Boundaries were taught to be about obeying a purity standard. You learned to ask, “Is this allowed?” not “Is this kind? Is this safe? Does this honor my body and soul?”
Over time, this can show up as a myriad of experiences and behaviors. Shame during or after sex, even with a partner you love, feeling “split” between your beliefs and your lived experience, panic or numbness when you try to be intimate, confusion about your sexual orientation or gender identity, mixed with spiritual fear, and maybe even difficulty saying or believing you’re allowed to say no or yes during an intimate encounter. If you’re nodding along, I want you to hear this clearly: You are not broken. You are reacting in deeply understandable ways to a system that taught you to mistrust yourself. And healing is possible.
When “Theology” Becomes a Weapon
For many of us, the harm of purity culture wasn’t just social, it was also theological.
We heard versions of “God will bless you if you stay pure and punish you if you don’t”, “Bad things (pregnancy, STIs, heartbreak, HIV/AIDS) are what happens when you disobey God’s sexual rules”, “Queer desire is a temptation you must fight, not part of who you are”, and “If you just repent hard enough, God will ‘fix’ you.” This kind of messaging treats God like a cosmic vending machine: insert purity, receive protection. Step outside the rules, get pain. It also reduces sexuality to behavior and erases the complexity of identity, trauma, orientation, and embodied experience.
If you were taught that your suffering is proof you failed spiritually, or your queerness or sexuality is something to “battle,” you’ve likely learned to turn your anger inward instead of toward the system that harmed you. Sometimes, healing starts with letting yourself question that system.
From Purity Rules to Honoring Experience
If purity culture started with “Here are the rules: fit your life into them,” healing asks a different question. What if we start with your actual life and listen for meaning and truth (maybe this is God, for you)? You don’t have to use the word “God” to do this. Think of it more like letting your lived experiences matter, trusting your body’s signals, and letting your questions be as holy as your answers. I’ll offer these shifts that may help in starting your healing:
From “my body is the problem” to “my body is my ally.” Instead of viewing desire, arousal, or discomfort as enemies, you can begin to see them as data. Anxiety around touch? Maybe your body is flagging past harm or a lack of safety. Warmth, openness, curiosity? Maybe your body is signaling connection and consent. Your body is not a test you’re failing; it’s a living, breathing source of wisdom.
From “desire must be suppressed” to “desire can be integrated.” Instead of trying to shut down your sexuality until a certain point, you can ask: “What kind of intimacy feels safe for me right now” or “ What do I long for emotionally, spiritually, physically, and how can I explore that with care, consent, and honesty?” Healing doesn’t mean flinging yourself in the opposite direction of everything you were taught. It means slowly, gently integrating your desires into your larger story, instead of treating them like a foreign invader.
From “I must fit the binary” to “I am more complex than any box.” Purity culture insists that there are only two genders, that there is only one holy way to be in a relationship, and that any deviation from that is sin or confusion. Your healing may involve honoring your queer or trans identity, exploring gender expression with curiosity, or simply acknowledging that you don’t fit the tidy script you were handed. That this doesn’t make you less beloved, less human, or less worthy.
Reclaiming Your Body, Voice, and Boundaries
Reclaiming Your Body. Healing from purity culture is slow, personal work, but there are some places you might gently begin. Start by noticing instead of judging what you feel (maybe it’s tension, desire, numbness, comfort) and treating it as information rather than evidence that you’re “bad.” Reconnect with your body in non-sexual ways: walking, stretching, yoga, dancing, warm showers, deep breaths. Let your body become a place you live in, not a project you manage. And when your body says “this is too much,” honor your limits. Panic, shutdown, or discomfort aren’t signs of spiritual failure; they’re cues that you deserve more safety and support.
Reclaiming Your Voice. Healing often begins when you tell the truth about what purity culture cost you. Maybe this can happen in a journal, in therapy, with a trusted friend or group. Name the shame, confusion, coercion, and spiritual harm. If anger comes up, let it. Anger can be a sign you’re finally taking your own pain seriously, not proof that you’ve lost your faith. Practice saying what you actually think in small ways: “That teaching hurt me,” “I don’t believe that anymore,” “That joke makes me uncomfortable.” Your voice is powerful
Reclaiming Your Boundaries. Your boundaries aren’t obstacles to love; they’re the conditions under which real love can grow. Purity culture narrowed boundaries to “how far is too far?” Healing widens them. You can decide who hears your story. You don’t owe explanations to everyone who stayed in the system. You’re allowed to step back (or leave) spaces that shame your body, sexuality, or identity, even if they’re labeled “Religious community.” Consent is more than a technical yes/no. Ask yourself “Do I want this? Do I feel safe? Do I feel respected and free to change my mind?”
A Meditation for the Unwinding
If you’re reading this, you’ve already done something brave: you’ve named purity culture as something you may need to heal from. So here’s a meditation for you:
May your body become a place you can come home to, not a battlefield you must win.
May your desires become sources of honest curiosity, not automatic condemnation.
May your “no” be honored, and your “yes” be free.
May your questions be welcomed, not feared.
And may you discover, day by day, that you were never too much, too sexual, too queer, too late, or too broken to be worthy of love of any form.
You don’t have to do this alone! Purity culture thrives in silence, but healing grows in connection. You might find support through a therapist who understands religious trauma or purity culture recovery and who can hold your story without rushing you to “get over it.” If the language of God, organized religion, or faith is tender for you right now, you’re allowed to take space. You can grieve, rebuild, reimagine, or set it down for a while. Spirituality that harms you is not the only option. You are not starting from scratch. You are starting from your own experience. And that is a holy place to begin.
