More Than A Body

Growing up around the era of purity balls and books like I Kissed Dating Goodbye in the height of purity and modesty culture, the earliest lesson I learned was that my body was a "stumbling block for men who couldn't control their sexual urges." In religious settings, people compared women's bodies to a damaged rose, a used car, a chewed piece of gum, an already opened present, a lint roller with dirty lint on it, paper that had been glued together and pulled apart, and various other inanimate objects. Spaghetti strap shirts were frowned upon even before I hit puberty, and wearing a bikini or low-cut top meant I was "leading men to temptation."  

By the time I was fifteen years old, I'd sat through at least a dozen purity talks coming from the pulpit. In all those conversations, however, no one ever talked about sexual assault, sexual battery, or rape. It was never mentioned, not even once. During this time, there were lessons I learned as a young girl about my body that I carried into adulthood. There are pieces of myself I was taught to be ashamed of. I feel robbed of the belief that my body was never flawed and that my body wasn't responsible for the "sin" of others. Most days, I don't feel anger; there is only grief left. Religious purity culture, which claims to keep women safe from sexual abuse, actually leaves them more vulnerable to it and creates a culture that fetishizes virginity.

I learned years later that sexual abuse was one of the most common experiences among women worldwide. I learned that 90% of adult rape victims are female. I learned that out of every 1,000 sexual assault cases, 975 perpetrators will walk free. I learned that 2 out of 3 sexual assault cases will go unreported, and out of 310 cases reported to the police, only 25 of those perpetrators will be incarcerated. I learned that 41.8% of women in the US have been victimized by sexual violence other than rape and that nearly 80% of female sexual assault victims experience their first assault before the age of 25. [Source: RAINN Statistics] Additionally, I learned that the religious "purity culture" I grew up in enables rape culture and is deeply rooted in misogyny. What was most shocking to me was the knowledge that many of my friends had already gone through an experience of sexual assault, sexual battery, or rape. I had no idea.

Years later, I found myself reporting an incident to a male police officer and sharing with him in graphic detail how I was harmed. Officials later told me that my perpetrator would not be charged for his crime because I did not physically resist during the initial assault. Although I explained my reasoning behind not resisting (the fear that I could be physically harmed at a greater length), I walked away from the experience with this knowledge: our justice system, especially for those who identify as women, is broken. To understand this injustice at a greater length, I started a personal project titled More Than a Body. Over the weeks following, in addition to seeking therapy, I interviewed and photographed multiple individuals about their experiences regarding sexual assault/rape. This project is a resistance and a protest. In honor of my body and all of the strength she carries.

These are real stories and real voices, including my own.