As a neuropsychologist from Provo who has counseled Mormon women and couples for nearly 20 years, I see the fallout of purity culture daily. And on a personal level, I lived it myself as a youth. I didn’t have my first kiss until 17 in the BYU Law Library, and I learned as a child to shut my body down to avoid experiencing pleasure that could make me unworthy of a righteous partner someday.
As a consequence, I struggled to flip the switch back on once I was married. I’ve lived with the scars of mind-body disconnect for three decades, even after therapy and becoming a therapist myself. I believe this is a more common experience for Utahns than the general population due to the prevalence of purity culture here.
With new seasons of “Secret Lives of Mormon Wives” and “Bachelorette” about to drop, the latest tabloids speculating about Taylor Franke Paul’s sex life while filming mirrors the shame my clients carry about sexuality and judgment.
My message is simple: we must be careful not to equate a woman’s value with their sexual history. Reality TV may profit from that narrative, but our communities don’t have to. When we reduce women to cautionary tales or prizes to be won, real women — like me, your mothers, sisters and daughters — absorb the damage.
Since both shows are filmed here, Utahns are about to experience a twofer. This double dose of watching our flavor of purity culture streaming to the world might bring up anything from visceral disgust to traumatic memories, anxiety and depression.
I would encourage anyone experiencing negative effects to seek out help from a health care professional: you don’t have to carry this alone. When we call out purity culture, we take away its power. It thrives in silence.
Kristy Money, Provo
Donate to the newsroom now. The Salt Lake Tribune, Inc. is a 501(c)(3) public charity and contributions are tax deductible