Virginity: More Than a Madonna Song
BY LIZZI KEHOE
When I hear the word virgin, I am often consumed by a seemingly irrational desire to scream, at the very top of my lungs, “Like a virgin, touched for the very first time.”
Okay. Thank you, Madonna. Virginity. At its core, virginity seems like a simple concept: a yes or no question. Yet, this perceived simplicity is complicated by the fact that the answer to doesn’t necessarily translate to whether or not you have had sex. Sex means something entirely different to each person and subsequently so does the concept of virginity. "Sex means something entirely different to each person and subsequently so does the concept of virginity." Society, continuing to perpetuate historical understandings, persists on treating virginity as a binary. Since Madonna is on the mind, take her “Like A Virgin” music video for example. If you have not seen it, I personally invite you to continue procrastinating your homework for four more minutes. The main players are Madonna, dressed head to toe in white, a gondola, a lion, a man in a tux, and a combination of the latter two, a man in a lion mask. Madonna essentially dances in her white attire while a lion pensively prowls outside, until the man in the lion mask comes and “touches” her, as you might’ve guessed, for the very first time. It’s unclear what actually happens in this video, but the main messages communicate heteronormativity, female passivity, male aggression, and sexual restriction. Granted, this is an 80’s pop music video, but there is a reason her producers knew the public-- made up by many of our parents-- would eat this up. Our urge to belt “Like A Virgin” with no second thoughts normalizes the problematic treatment of virginity, invalidating the experiences of those who do not identify with the thrill of being “touched for the very first time.” Even though virginity does not equal sex or no sex, the false binary stems from our treatment of virginity, which has been inextricably linked to sex. Not everyone has done “it,” or wants to do “it” any time soon, and what does “it” even mean? Perhaps more importantly, not everyone feels comfortable expressing these concerns in an environment consumed by hook-up culture (i.e. a college campus). On the other hand, when people do embrace their sexuality - especially people identifying as women and femme - they are often shamed for it. In a sense, you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t. When speaking with students on our campus about virginity most defined it as a social construct in one form or another. Nonetheless, this construct influenced each of their lives in a variety of ways. For some, religion was a particularly influential aspect of their relationship to virginity. One student described growing up in a Catholic household. As such, this student’s conceptualization of virginity had been influenced by traditional Catholic notions of purity. The student later described how their understanding has since evolved, saying, “I don’t personally think God cares whether you have sex or not. I have come to believe that it’s not about a time limit or how many boxes you’ve checked in a relationship, as these define your virginity by someone else or by a social stigma.” Another student expressed their understanding of religion and virginity on different terms, focusing on the belief in the sanctity of marriage and that bodies should be joined before God. Nonetheless, the student followed with, “That said, it's not my place to make other people share my beliefs by telling them that having sex outside of marriage is wrong.” It appears that virginity finds more traditional roots within religion, although the relationship between religion and virginity extends across a broad spectrum. Others battle with the heteronormative aspect of virginity, noting how “society centers [virginity] around penetrative sex, and just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m a virgin.” This ties in with the implications of virginity being undeniably tied to sex. Sex is not just between a person with a vagina and a person with a penis—sex is not just penetrative, but with virginity, it is assumed to be. As one student noted, “To me, the first act of sexual intercourse is just that; a new experience. I have had to relearn that sex should not be stigmatized in order to allow my sexuality to positively flourish.” This student further alluded to the confines of this rigid sexuality, apparently set by the equivocation of virginity with purity, as they noted, “the societal emphasis on purity creates a double standard for men and women. A woman ‘losing’ her virginity means that she has lost a sense of innocence or value. A man ‘losing’ his virginity means he has entered a new chapter of his ‘manhood.’” This comment brings up an interesting discussion about the language surrounding virginity, a theme that continually arose in students’ responses. When we talk about virginity, it is almost always in a heteronormative context with important power-dynamics at play. The idea of sex in general constitutes the man penetrating, taking, doing, fucking while the women plays a passive role. Moreover, the act of losing one’s virginity propels each cohort into adulthood, into manhood and womanhood, but with extremely different connotations. Whereas women can face frequent shaming for not being virgins, labeled as “promiscuous” or “slutty”, men generally seem to receive praise for the same actions. As one student noted, it is “the sexual allure of the ‘innocent virgin’…motivated through a primarily masculine insecurity to capture and conquer this sense of innocence from the woman in the situation…” The woman, once conquered, is then somehow less whole—less pure, but also less elusive, as if the allure dissipates once she has “been there” and “done that.” A similar sentiment was expressed by a student who shared an anecdote with me about her sexual relationship with her boyfriend. She noted that she had “lost” her virginity rather casually before committing to a more serious and emotional relationship with him, and at times, the fact that she did have her first sexual experience with another person seemed hard for him. “To me, it didn’t really matter because I was having emotional sex with him, and he was the only person I felt so strongly about. But at times, it didn’t seem like enough for him…I think the fact that we use terms like ‘taken’ or ‘lost’ creates a sense of possessiveness around women’s bodies. Although I love my boyfriend, my ‘virginity’ or any choices I make with my body are not and never will be his; they will always be mine.” When we discuss virginity, there seems to be a level of mistaken ownership. Moreover, this narrative is afraid to explore anything outside of the confines of virginity, i.e. anything non-heteronormative, liberating, or balanced in power. "When we talk about virginity, it is almost always in a heteronormative context with important power-dynamics at play." Ultimately, these interviews revealed something most effectively summarized by one student: “Everyone has different values and qualifications for virginity, and for some, the socially constructed norm may resonate, just as others can rebel against it.” So, in exploring the thoughts and experiences of these students, I gleaned new insight regarding my own understanding of virginity, a concept that’s complex, nuanced, and more than the chorus of an 80’s pop song. May this inspire you to have your own conversations about virginity, with or without Madonna playing in the background. “Everyone has different values and qualifications for virginity, and for some, the socially constructed norm may resonate, just as others can rebel against it.” Author’s Note: I’d like to personally thank those who courageously shared their thoughts with me, although I fully recognize that not every identity is represented by their opinions. If you are interested in more of what they shared, a full list of expanded quotes will follow. |