Virginity is not an issue, nor should it be
Ella Sinders | Fulcrum Contributor
I’VE LIVED TWO very different experiences as a virgin. Growing up, I was surrounded by people who felt the loss of virginity was taboo to talk about. It was most prominent in the mythical girl-world. Rumours would spread as soon as someone in the group lost her virginity; it was terrifying when some girls would slut-shame the newly de-virginized woman behind her back. Throughout high school, no one had accepted that it was okay to be open about losing one’s virginity, which meant that knowing someone’s v-card status could be used as a bullying tool.
I noticed a significant difference in the people around me at the U of O. Generally, university students are more open about their sexuality and feel comfortable exchanging funny stories and quips about their sex life. In this shift, though, I’ve become a little more self-conscious about my own lack of a sex life. I never realized I would be on the flip side where being a virgin at this age is no longer common amongst my peers. Granted, I’ve never felt pressured by these new people to do anything just so that I would fit in, nor does it mean that as a virgin I want to remain ignorant of the lives of the sexually active.
Growing up, I was taught by my family that it was best to abstain from sex before marriage. While my family’s opinions matter, at the same time I was trying to independently shape myself into the person I wanted to be. With the help of friends early on in high school, I started to become more informed about sex in religious, cultural, and social contexts. Since then, I’ve always known that I’m ready to give up my virginity before marriage, but I also do not want to give it up to just anyone. I want to know that I am 100 per cent comfortable with somebody before even considering it.
Rather than keeping that same taboo on losing my virginity, I believe that sex is something that should be shared by two people who genuinely like each other and are both comfortable with talking about it without feeling like it’s one-sided. Whether or not this special person will come to me in the near or distant future, I can content myself with the fact that I am okay with being a virgin.
Living these two sides of being a virgin has given me a new perspective on what it means to be one—it means nothing at all. People can choose to abstain or not to abstain. When the time comes, the only thing I’ll take into consideration is that I’m with the right person and not doing it for the sake of fitting in. Nor will I be hiding my virginity or loss of it because I’m afraid of being looked down upon or being called something derogatory by my peers. It should be a choice made only by me, because that’s all that really matters.
Virgin in her 20s
Jenny Meya | Fulcrum Contributor
I ZIPPED UP my pants tight just to make sure he would focus on my eyes; he was just another number added to my little black book. It’s easy for me to remain a virgin. It’s a choice and I say, “Hell no to penetration!”
People assume I was influenced in my decision to remain a virgin. It could be the Bible telling me scriptures about why it is better for a woman to remain a virgin. I could also be influenced by western culture telling me I’m more valuable as a virgin. We all love stereotypes, don’t we?
Sure, sex can be one aspect of a relationship, but it’s not the most important part. To me, sex doesn’t create the intimacy that I crave in relationships. It may inspire a sense of intimacy, but that can fade if there’s no substance to carry its weight.
It is the possibility of falling in love with someone that made me decide to keep my virginity; that day I locked my vagina shut and threw away the key! It’s not marriage that I’m waiting for. Maybe I’ll marry one day or maybe I won’t; I believe in real commitment, and marriage can’t promise that. It’s love that I’m waiting for.
To me, sex isn’t just a casual activity, something to be enjoyed in passing. I believe it’s more sacred than that. To me, the deepest connection between two people is through the union of their bodies, and I would rather share that connection with only one person.