Recently, I participated, in a willing, great hook-up. The week before I participated in a willing make-out session. I just moved to a new town. I don’t know anyone around here that well, and the unfortunate thing about that is that I don’t know who knows who — for instance how close hook-up A is to hook-up B. This is where my story really starts.

Let’s call the two guys I’ve hooked up with Boy A and Boy B. Boy A had a crush on me. Since I had only known him for about a week, I assumed it was casual. I was wrong. At some point during our short time together, he decided we were in a relationship. Now, we’re talking about a guy that I’ve probably seen four times in my life and who I never told I was interested in being in a relationship. This is where Boy B steps in.

I had met Boy B the week before and found him attractive. The next week I saw him at a party and we began talking about Lord of The Rings, Zombies and Star Wars. Clearly, I was interested. One thing led to another and we hooked up. The next day I texted Boy A and he responded by saying (and I quote): “I heard Boy B jack-hammered your crotch last night…yikes.”

Despite his triggering, offensive, misogynistic language, I responded. I told him that it was unfair of him to assume that there was something solid between us. I told him not to deny my sexuality and not to hold me to double standards. What he said back was this: “Stop bothering me you dumb whore.” I decided to just say nothing, to not give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much his texts had gotten to me. But I was so upset and angry. I felt disgusting, like a pile of trash, and I know that’s what he wanted me to feel like.

I have my theories why I felt this way. It has been a little over a year since I was pinned down and raped in my own bed. The “Jack-hammered your crotch” comment just sounded so violent, so rapey, that every time I think about it I am disgusted. My stomach literally clenches and I feel sick. The term whore made me feel low, like maybe I’m wrong for liking sex as much as men, maybe I am worthless, maybe I should be used for sex, maybe that’s all I’m good for. For the first time, I understood how much it hurts to be called a whore or a slut or a skank – whatever the term may be – or to have you sexuality questioned. Even after attending Slut Walks, being an active feminist, knowing about rape culture and understanding the effects of slut-shaming, I lost myself in the idea that maybe being a slut was a bad thing, that maybe I had been wrong all along. My entire belief structure had come into question because of one jerk.

Then I remembered the day I lost my virginity. The day I had sex for the first time, it was not to a guy who was my boyfriend. Some of you may call that slutty, but I knew that I wanted to have sex. At that moment, there was nothing more that I wanted, and when it happened, I regretted nothing. But I also remember thinking that no one would understand, that if I told, I’d be called a whore and a liar. And there was that word again: whore. The word that people use to control our sexuality, to dismiss us from sexual pleasure, to dismiss our claims of sexual assault, to dismiss our humanity.

We live in a country where tens of thousands of sexual assault cases are reported every year. And who really knows how many go unreported. I think this all goes back to the word “whore,” to the idea that women do not have sex for ourselves but for male attention, because we have low self esteem, because we have daddy issues, because we want to be popular, or because we’re just plain crazy.

It starts in our first health class. We learn that boys masturbate more than girls (or is it just that boys talk about it more because it is considered more socially acceptable for them to pleasure themselves?) In our high school health classes, we are told that the only way to be safe is to remain abstinent, that if we wait until marriage, sex will be so much better. We are taught about blow jobs, but the blessing that is cunnilingus is never mentioned. We learn about male ejaculation, not about female. Every day we are shown how cool Robert Downey Jr. is for remaining a swinger throughout his career, and on the same channel told that Miley Cyrus looks like a slut in her video.

As a gender we have been dismissed. Slut is not our word. It is the word of our oppressors. It is a word they use because the idea of female sexuality does not fit their conservative view points. But I’m going to fight that now. I’m going to say:

Dear Guy A, I love sex. I choose to love sex. I choose to have sex with whomever I want. I am great in bed and I am proud of that. I look amazing naked and yeah that makes me feel really confident and sexy. Sex is my choice. So if liking sex, and liking frequent sex, and liking experimenting with new partners makes me a slut in your mind, then so be it. I am a huge slut. And there is nothing wrong with that.

losing your virginity: Glee style

There’s a first time for everything. Last night was the first time I watched a full episode of Glee from start to finish by myself. The fifth episode of Season 3 is all about first times. For those of you out there who haven’t seen the show, here’s a quick rundown: Rachel and Blaine are starring in the West Side Musical. Artie calls them out mid-way through rehearsal for not having enough “passion” and wants them to pull from their sexual experiences to convey that passion to the audience. Rachel and Blaine are clearly embarrassed as they both admit that they’re virgins. Over the course of the next 40 minutes, the two go back and forth between consummating their relationships with their respective significant others.

This episode was clearly created for shock value and to create controversy with the chastity-belt endorsing set rather than an opportunity to actually provide viewers with some real sex-education (which would’ve been nice). But, honestly, there’s a lot of sex on TV. Insert sex into any teen show and *boom* instant conflict. “Does he really like me?” “Am I pregnant?” “She slept with my best friend? I must destroy her now!” With shows like Gossip Girl and 90210 all over the airwaves, it’s usually just assumed at some point in the characters’ backstory, their innocence was destroyed. And I guess that was the one really nice thing about this episode of Glee. We’re not just supposed to assume everybody has already slept around a lot (like in other shows) but are rather faced with multiple people deciding whether or not to trade in their “V-Cards”.

Just because you’re a virgin doesn’t mean you’re alone. In fact, it wasn’t until I started college that I realized just how few people actually were having sex regularly in high school. As Artie says, “It’s a human experience”- one that changes people. Sex is totally normal but it’s something that needs to be thought about. And it was made clear in this episode that sex was something these characters had taken their time with.

That being said, there’s a lot of pressure in this episode to wait for love before having sex. I’m totally for this but come on, we’re teenagers. What we believe is “love” today may very well be gone tomorrow. First love, true love – I don’t think these things necessarily have to be set as a standard for losing your virginity. Time and time again you’ll hear stories about people who had sex for the first time because they were in love, then soon after regret it after a nasty break up. So instead of finding someone who just loves you, or even whom you love, look for someone who most importantly respects you and your opinions. During the girl chat in Glee, Tina discloses the reason, besides true love, that sex was such a great thing: she talked about sex a lot with her partner, who she clearly shared mutual respect and trust with, ahead of time, which allowed her to come to terms with what a huge step she was taking.

So whether you’re having sex the first time with someone you love, or with somebody you like and respect, know that you must ultimately live with that decision. Feelings and emotions you never anticipated will surface no matter what the situation is and you can’t control that. Sure, Glee makes it look beautiful with all the cuddling at the end, but life exists after the pillow talk. Losing your virginity is just one decision among many you’ll make for the rest of your life. So do what needs to be done. Make a pro/con list, talk about it with your partner/best friend/sibling/Mom/cool Aunt, even take a pledge of abstinence if that’s what’s right for you. But above all else (and yes it’s cliche, but it’s true) do what’s right for you.

In 1997, MTV launched a new show called Daria. The show aimed to capture high school through the eyes of a teenage girl, mirroring other popular shows of the decade (My So Called Life, Buffy etc.) which also reflected hormonal, angsty teenage girls as the main protagonists.

The character Daria Morgendorffer, who the show is (obviously) named after, was a character on the popular TV show Beavis and Butthead. Why Beavis and Butthead was popular is beyond me. Every time I’ve tried to watch a segment of this show of gurgling stoners it makes me feel like I’m missing out on the ‘humour.’ Kind of like how I feel watching Two and a Half Men.

Here’s an early appearance of Daria on Beavis and Butthead:

Daria has its fair share of popular stereotypes, such as the air-head jocks and cheerleaders, greasy teenage boys and vapid self conscious sisters. But in the midst of all these stereotypes, Daria offers a cynical view of high school life with her quick-witted comments and perpetually sarcastic tone. She made the weirdness of high school seem normal and was almost heroic in her ability to make teenage outcasts feel okay. She was a heroine of the weird kids, which is why I appreciate her so much.

Throughout the show’s 5 seasons, the viewers witness Daria’s personal development. She deals with important issues like body image, how to keep your dignity and avoid contradicting your morals, and how to deal with fathers that obsess over ordering too many sausages and becoming addicted to technology. As the seasons progress, the themes that Daria faces mature as she does. Where Daria once became bright red at the sight of her best friend’s brother and his smooth guitar skills, she begins to date and worries about whether to commemorate the anniversaries in her relationship or not.

However, I feel as though the Daria I looked up to was lost within the last season. In the end of Season 4, Daria acquires a boyfriend. I didn’t find this problematic, as Tom seemed to be an extension of Daria’s personality and provided a nice back-story to many episodes. Tom’s character reflected Daria’s humour and it seemed that the pair could take over the world with sarcastic comments and a very refined taste for pizza. The relationship didn’t seem to affect Daria’s independent personality and I was glad to see her avoid becoming a whiny girlfriend like another character, Brittany.

But later in Season 5, Daria completely ignores all of her values and morals and questions her VIRGINITY. Now, why do I make such a big deal of this? Yeah, Daria is a teenager and has a boyfriend and has been with him for a while and is supposedly expected to have lost ‘it’ already to him for just that reason. And I do understand the writers’ decision to write in a story-line highlighting this expectation on teenage relationships. But the character of Daria isn’t supposed to worry about things like that, or waste time wondering what she is or isn’t “supposed” to do. She’s meant to spit and mock even the thought of fulfilling any expectations society has put on her as a teenage girl, so the fact that it was so worrisome to her just seemed wrong. This story line seems more like a plot that the stereotypical cheerleader and jock of the show (as portrayed by the characters of Kevin and Brittany) would fit, and less of a story line that Daria would be involved in herself.

After a while of self questioning, Daria decides she is not ready to conform to society’s expectation. I think this was the right choice, and one that reflected what the viewers of Daria would have done. Leave sex for shows like 90210 and let the underdogs have Daria.

Sometimes Dreamboys aren't so dreamy...

In my eyes, he was perfect in every way. Dreamboy was smart, interesting, had beautiful brown eyes, a charming smile. He was genuinely more interested in girls’ personality than their breasts or butts. I thought Dreamboy was a perfect gentleman, and I loved him more than I’d loved anyone.

Dreamboy had, in his words, “exponentially more” experience than I did. He was a ladykiller, but was friends with many of the girls he’d had relations with. I respected that; he didn’t just “bump and dump” but rather actually took the time to get to know the girls and to keep knowing them after they’d hooked up. Dreamboy was different than any of the other guys I’d known in high school.

Then I told him that I’d hooked up (just kissing!) with a boy I’d known for four days the summer before. Suddenly, then, I was a slut. What?! Dreamboy was the only guy I’d known sexually, and he’d slept with many girls. I asked him what made him not “slutty” and he said that sleeping around wasn’t ladylike. And kissing a guy you’d known for four days wasn’t either. Dreamboy said that he knew it was a double standard, but that didn’t matter because guys are different from girls. Dreamboy said that if I’d had the sexual experience he had, he wouldn’t have dated me.

I was crushed.

How could Dreamboy be saying these things?! He was supposed to be the exception to the rule, the guy who didn’t believe that having sex made a girl slutty, the guy who was more sexually enlightened than the majority of high school guys! What was happening?

Dreamboy’s statement that he wouldn’t have dated me if I’d slept with as many guys as he had girls was the worst part. Does sleeping around somehow make a girl dirty or worthless? Or less valuable than a girl who is a virgin? The value of a person should have nothing to do with the state of their virginity.

So I dumped Dreamboy. Er, the boy-who-I-thought-was-Dreamboy.

Next time, I won’t be fooled by a sparkling smile or smooth talk. Next time, I’ll know better.

Oh, the lunch table

I am not easily affected by other people’s opinions. Maybe I was at some point, but I rarely value my worth by how others perceive me. So I don’t understand how I can still feel so awfully judged by someone else without her saying a word.

If asked if I were ever explicitly bullied I would probably say no. But when I recently sat at a table among eight of my peers, all girls within a year of my age, many of whom I’ve been acquainted with for years, I positively felt like crap. One of the other girls at this table, one of my close friends, visibly hunched over as we sat down.

My friend and I are intellectual. We have truckloads of aspirations and are not afraid to share our opinions or assert ourselves. Neither of us would have a problem speaking in front of a thousand people- as long as I didn’t know these girls were there, that is.

I can’t place what it is. They say that my voice is cute even when I’m talking about rape as a weapon of war in Sudan. They fake laugh at what I say regardless of its content, because apparently that’s more of a compliment than actually responding to what I say intellectually. They think that it’s strange that I talk to my friends, the rest of our peers, teachers and guys exactly the same way. They are especially shocked by the last one, but I can’t do the coy, flirty thing. Maybe I could if I tried, but I haven’t. Maybe one day I will, but it’s not currently my prerogative.

When I speak, even when I’m just sitting there, they look at me. However though they stare, they never actually make eye contact. If I look back, they just sit even straighter and adjust their clothes.

Around them, I just shrivel up. I feel ugly and fat. I feel like my clothes are wrong. I feel like an immature loser. I am always aware, I suppose, that by cultural standards, they are much prettier than I am. I know that, by all logical measures, they are thinner than I am. I know that I dress unusually in comparison. These things, although I am aware of them and they do not often fill me with glee, seldom negatively affect my thoughts. Usually I am proud of being a “nerd” as I value my intellectualism; it’s what I am most proud of. But for them, being a nerd is bad, and when they’re around, their perspective begins to infiltrate mine. The fact that they consider me to be immature is the most ironic. I’m concerned with global issues and ethics whereas they are constantly preoccupied with typical adolescent drama. But for them, due to the fact that I’m all virginal and whatnot, I’m just a silly little kid and somehow, just… lesser than them.

Strangest of all, I feel jealous, so very jealous. I have never been vapid. I will never be so easy to laugh or cry or forget about intense issues and just go to some party. It is not in my character to just get drunk impulsively or, honestly, do anything impulsively. I will never have that kind of fun. It depresses me a bit, because the satisfaction I achieve, although nice, is very different from their immediate gratification.

Alexa also writes the blog Blossoming Badass

A very hot-button issue that has brought feminists to the forefront is comprehensive sex education. It is something that Jessica Valenti defends vehemently in the notable Full Frontal Feminism, and that many teens have written passionately about here on the F-Bomb. As someone who believes that ignorance should be avoided at all times and that the current state of education is largely condescending to high school students, I have always been on the defensive side on this issue as well.

In the past month, I have experienced sex ed at my public high school, and my defense of comprehensive sex education has become infinitely more fervid. The majority of my friends, including the three that I spend my health class with, are virgins. Out of the four of us, none of us are in relationships and have not been in relationships in which we felt a desire to lose our virginity. Two of us are fully supportive of premarital sex; the other two are more divided, as their parents oppose the action. None of us were planning to have sex in high school, although we were not opposed to the idea and would not judge any of our peers by the action. It seemed like a perfectly okay thing to do, if you were confident that you wanted to have sex with your partner and you used protection and whatnot. Right?

Our teacher educated us on prevalent STIs (Sexually Transmitted Infections) and their transmission and (grotesque) symptoms. The three girls I was with and myself all have A or A+ averages in school, are fairly eloquent, and informed on basic current events. None of us, though, knew a thing about syphilis or oral herpes before this lesson.

The best part about this, though, was that our health teacher spoke to us in a way that she made it sound like it was okay if we had had sex at the time. She was not condescending. It was awesome. I’d always imagined sex education would be like that scene in Mean Girls where the gym teacher says: “Do not have sex, because you will get pregnant and die!”

I can now say with confidence that comprehensive sex education is far more effective than abstinence-only. I have read dozens of accounts and excerpts of abstinence-only sex ed lessons, and they are, in my limited experience, far less realistic. Telling kids they shouldn’t have sex “just because” doesn’t get anything done; most teens inherently want to rebel against what they’re supposed to do. Besides, expressing the unpleasantness of genital warts and painful urination are far more effective than just saying that something is “bad.”

The bottom line, applicable to this just as much as any other (as in, every) issue that effects teens: if we are treated like mature adults, with rights and opinions, we are far more likely to listen to what you have to say.

Alexa also writes for her own blog Blossoming Badass

not quite.

I am almost 18 years old and I am a virgin.

When I tell people this, they kind of just stare at me. They automatically become suspicious because, to look at me, there’s nothing obviously “wrong” with me. And apparently there would have to be if I’m still a virgin. I might as well go buy a couple dozen cats and move into a log cabin on the edge of modern society, though, because if I haven’t lost it yet then I’m destined to be forever alone, in their opinion.

Let me be clear. I’ve been dating since I was about fifteen. I am a healthy, social person who has had opportunities to have sex. And I chose not to. It’s not because I proudly wear a purity ring or am “pure” for religious reasons. It’s not because I’m deathly afraid of getting pregnant or an STI or am ignorant about the topic (I’m well informed about safe sex and take my reproductive rights seriously). In fact, I’m not entirely sure why I haven’t. I haven’t sat down and analyzed the state of my hymen, but I know that it just hasn’t happened yet. And I’m okay with it. I’m just not sure why everybody else is so offended.

Okay, I do kind of understand why in an overly sexual society, where girls can either be prudes or sluts (and not a whole lot else) people my age at school and elsewhere don’t really get or accept the virgin thing – as wrong as I think that whole paradigm is. But I’m looking at you, too, feminist community.

In feminism, when we talk about sex and sexuality the discussion always seems to come back to slut-shaming and the right for a woman to chose what she wants to do with her body. We want the right to express ourselves sexually without being called sluts and we certainly don’t want the double standard that allows men to be worshipped for promiscuity and women to be condemned for the same actions to exist anymore. We want to control our bodies, from a health standpoint, but also so that we’re not tied down by children we’re not ready for. And for many other valid reasons.

For the record, I totally, 100% support this and rally for it.

But I think feminists need to realize that not having sex can be a choice (remember, feminists, we like choice!) that doesn’t necessarily represent patriarchal oppression. Sexual liberation is great, but maybe I’m just not ready to sexually liberate myself, yet. I don’t like feeling like a bad feminist because of this.

There’s definitely a stigma around sexually active girls, but there’s ALSO a stigma around virgins – in society at large, but also in feminism. And that’s something that deserves a little more attention in feminist discussions of sex.

Our new trailer! “How To Lose Your Virginity” from Trixie Films on Vimeo.

If this film is anything like Jessica Valenti’s awesome book The Purity Myth, I’m so there it’s insane. Having to watch the news cover this new phenomenon of “Purity Balls” and celebrities like Selena Gomez and Miley Cyrus pledge purity has left me seriously uneasy. Not because staying a virgin is a bad thing, but rather because those who pledge not to have intercourse until marriage are less likely to use a condom when they do have sex (and their rates of having oral and anal sex are higher) – in fact their rates of STDs are about the same as non-pledging teens.

And then there’s that whole virgin/whore dichotomy that’s just oh so wonderful to experience as a teen (and beyond, I’m sure). It’s like the girl in the Breakfast Club said (and I’m paraphrasing badly) “You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.”

However, Therese still needs help getting this movie out there. Being a woman in the film industry is pretty rough from what I understand, and I’m sure being a woman trying to promote a feminist film is even harder.

To support this film, please visit this site to back the project.

Just another naked woman on the cover of a widely available magazine

In this nation so full of blatantly sexualized imagery, it’s hard not to feel numb when talking about sex. From the pretty graphic jokes that circulate through my high school (and, of this I’m sure, every other high school in America), to the nearly naked women routinely featured on widely available magazine covers, I haven’t been truly shocked by sex since I was pretty young.

In fact, virginity (or purity…what a truly terrible word) in this country is a burden. It’s something to get rid of. We are amazed when we hear that Tina Fey was still a virgin at the ancient age of 24, and wonder why people would ever in their right minds wait that long.

So, when I read an article describing how women in Turkey are paying as much as $2,000 to have their virginity restored in an operation called “hymenoplasty” I was pretty astounded.

The article reports that in Turkey, virginity is not only a respected quality, but a necessary quality for a woman to have. Losing one’s virginity before marriage (and by one, I mean members of the female gender) can mean “social alienation, forced marriage with an inappropriate match, physical abuse and even death in some cases.”

Yes, there are countries where women are still dying for having pre-marital sex. Y’know, the same thing that the same demographic in our Western nation is being overly encouraged to do. The same thing that American girls are being shamed for not doing, girls in Turkey are being ostracized for doing.

Even more upsetting to me is the fact that men who seem to posses modern views in many other ways, who are educated, still participate in shaming non-virgins. One Turkish psychologist, Dilek Ak?c? Tayanç, stated of male partners of women who had pre-marital sex, “No matter how much he may seem to hold modern views or how unaffected he may seem, in many instances men change their behavior toward their wives due to this (having had pre-marital sex) — they’re more distant, less trusting and display passive-aggressive behaviors.”

However, truly the most disturbing part about this practice to me was the type of response from women who are self-electing to have this surgery. As one patient, Ceyda, 24 years old, stated:

“I’m marrying into a modern family…I’m sure that [my fiancé] would stay with me if he knew I wasn’t a virgin…But my mother says…men will value you more if they think they are the only ones who have had you. A  fresh product is better than a spoiled one. So why not?…My husband should value me, and I don’t mind doing something this easy to make him happy; it takes only half an hour.”

So, even in instances where a woman’s life or well being isn’t in danger, when she is certain that her marriage or relationship isn’t even in danger, she thinks of herself as a “spoiled product” for having had sex, and elects to have surgery to make her “fresh.”

I’m not advocating promiscuity, but can I just say, having sex before you’re married doesn’t ruin you. It doesn’t make you a bad person. As long as you’re safe, as long as you’re smart, as long as you’re doing what’s right for you – sex isn’t an evil overpowering force that will destroy you. But that is my westernized mind speaking. I admit – it’s hard for me to get into any other mindset. The United States is not a patriarchy in the same way that countries like Turkey are, and though I definitely believe that there are cultural messages ingrained into the minds of young American girls, I doubt they are anything like those ingrained in the minds of Turkish girls.

So if my limited, Western perspective is not enough to convince you that hymenoplasty is just not a good idea, maybe the scientific side will get you. Tayanç states that:

“With the surgery an individual cements alienation from their body, and this can lead to increased denial and repression mechanisms; the result can be a decrease of introspection on the part of the individual, value-related issues, desensitization and even dissociation…[the patient] by yielding to the wishes of her spouse and society and viewing her own bodily integrity through someone else’s eyes to satisfy another person, at a result of which she is willing to go under the knife, becomes a psychologically self-destructing individual.”

Of course, it’s undeniable that in extreme situations, this procedure can actually save a woman from being physically, emotionally or socially abused, and even save her life. In that way – this surgery can not only be beneficial, but a blessing.

Bottom line: I really don’t think this procedure, hymenoplasty, as absurd and upsetting as it is to me personally, is the problem.  It’s the cultural beliefs that perpetuate women to want this procedure, that convinces them it’s a good idea – or more seriously the cultural practices that make it necessary, that are the problem.

Until we stop viewing women as useful only for their bodies, and therefore their virginity or purity, procedures like hymenoplasty will continue to exist. Sad, but true.