In the conservative evangelical tradition, any deviation—be it masturbation, same-sex love, porn, or simply curiosity—is considered sin. Not struggle. Not a part of being human. Sin. A soul-stain requiring repentance and, ironically, more submission to the very structure that inflicted the shame in the first place. This isn’t just bad theology. It’s systemic grooming.

Books like Pure by Linda Kay Klein expose the long-term trauma experienced by women raised in purity culture—shame, body dissociation, anxiety, and even physical pain during intimacy. Research from the Journal of Sex Research has confirmed that religious shame is associated with sexual dysfunction and distress (Barkan & Greenwood, 2018).

There is nothing pure about shame. There is nothing holy about repression. And there is nothing respectful about conditioning someone to believe that their desires are demonic, that their body is a threat, and that obedience is love.

When Submission Is Branded as Virtue

The church says respect is obedience. It says love is conditional. It says truth must be filtered through the pulpit. But real respect is standing eye to eye with someone, not over them. It’s letting them say no without consequence. It’s not fearing hellfire for wanting to be touched. It’s not gagging yourself so your pastor can speak on your behalf.

I’ve heard stories of women being told to pray through the pain of marital sex. I’ve seen men buckle under the pressure of being ‘pure leaders’ while drowning in shameful secrecy. The church demands silence but profits from confession. It offers salvation but peddles trauma. And all the while, it calls itself love.

Reclaiming the Sacred in the Flesh

Sex is not the enemy. Porn is not inherently evil. Safe, consensual expression is not immoral. What’s immoral is the exploitation of vulnerability in the name of divine order. What’s grotesque is using shame to raise funds for leaking roofs and shiny cars while congregants learn to hate their bodies and fear their instincts.

I’m not here to say all churches are evil. But if your doctrine tells you to deny your own aliveness, question the doctrine—not the desire. If your God demands suppression and silence, then maybe it’s not God at all. Maybe it’s control, dressed in white robes.

Freedom doesn’t live in stained glass. It lives in truth, in touch, in eye contact, in unfiltered laughter and whispered want. We are not broken for needing pleasure. We are broken when we’re told that needing it makes us less.

The church has tried to write over the body with ink from a dead language. It’s time to write ourselves back in.

TL;DR

The strict Protestant church has long repressed sexuality through shame and submission, particularly targeting women. This post challenges that distortion, offering a reclaiming of truth, bodily autonomy, and the sacredness of real respect and desire.

Reflection

I didn’t live this all myself. But I listened. I sat next to a woman broken open by years of obedience to a system that had no love for her truth. I researched. I witnessed. And now I write—not to tear down faith, but to ask what it’s built on.

True morality doesn’t come from pulpits or polished sermons. It comes from the courage to be real. From bodies that long, from minds that wonder, from souls that ache for presence and not punishment. Love does not live in shame. It lives in liberation. In honesty. In the holy mess of being human.

If we want to reclaim respect, we must first burn the doctrines that taught us fear. The altar of truth is not made of stone. It is made of skin and sweat and wide-open eyes.