The Author’s Journey to Self-Acceptance: Overcoming the Burden of Chastity in a Dysfunctional Family
At the age of 12, I was just a young girl, unaware of the drama that was about to unfold in my family. It was around this time that my parents’ obsession with chastity began, and it would have a profound impact on my life.
As I entered college, I had my first sexual experience. It was unplanned and unprepared for, and it would have been forgettable if we had used birth control. Looking back, I can’t help but feel foolish for my lack of preparedness. Growing up in a Catholic household, chastity was always emphasized, but it wasn’t just my religious upbringing that contributed to my unpreparedness. My mother’s strict beliefs about birth control also played a significant role.
Five years prior, my older sisters had been caught being sexually active, and my parents’ reaction was explosive. They belittled and shamed my sisters, and our household was filled with screams and lectures about the type of girl that no decent man would want. My sisters’ drawers were regularly searched, and my parents made it clear that using birth control was a sin, as it meant anticipating sex.
My mother’s words had a profound impact on me. As a young and impressionable 12-year-old, I took her words to heart and saw them as a viable ethical position. I desperately wanted to please my parents, and I believed that following their strict beliefs would make them proud of me.
By the time I turned 17, my parents’ marriage had become a silent war. My father was unfaithful, and my mother’s health was deteriorating. She had lost so much weight that her coworkers thought she had cancer. Despite their dysfunctional relationship, my mother still made sure to monitor my every move. She would stand in the doorway when my boyfriend dropped me off after a date, making sure I didn’t linger in the car. She even started searching through my drawers.
When I started college at the University of California, Los Angeles, I was placed on a waiting list for student housing. Since I lived too far to commute, I stayed with a family friend who lived nearby. The eldest daughter, Laura, was a high school senior, and I was grateful that she agreed to share her room with me. But what I was even more grateful for was her understanding of moral ambiguity. She told me, “I’m on the pill. You can think about whether sex is right or wrong, but use birth control while you decide.”
It was during this time that I realized my periods were irregular, and I hadn’t had one in over two months. One night, Laura snuck into the kitchen to grab a mayonnaise jar, and the following morning, I used it to take a pregnancy test. I waited anxiously for two days for the results, and when they came back negative, I let out a sigh of relief. I called my boyfriend on a payphone and used a code we had set up to tell him the news. But as I was talking to him, a girl nearby congratulated me, mistaking my excitement for a positive pregnancy test. It was a reminder of the stigma and shame that still surrounds sex and pregnancy.
Despite my relief, I couldn’t shake off the anxiety and fear that came with the possibility of pregnancy. My boyfriend and I continued to have unprotected sex, and I missed another period. I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn’t bring myself to buy condoms. My boyfriend was embarrassed, and his lack of concern for my well-being mirrored my father’s behavior.
It wasn’t until I moved into the dorms and started my freshman year that I finally mustered up the courage to seek birth control. I went to the student health clinic, where I had to fill out an invasive questionnaire about my sexual activity. It was humiliating, and I felt like I was being judged for my choices. But I answered honestly, and after completing the survey, I sat with a group of girls and watched a film about birth control. One scene stood out to me, where a woman talked about her “condominium,” a leather pouch she wore around her neck that contained a condom. It was an attempt to make birth control seem cool, but it fell flat. However, the message was clear: we had permission to take control of our
