Impure (but crucial!) Thoughts

Warning: the following book review may result in a burning obligation to adopt feminist ideals.  This sensation will be felt in at the epicenter of the ribcage, and will likely persist until the reader takes a step toward activism.

Seriously.

I originally happened upon Jessica Valenti’s book, The Purity Myth: How America's Obsession with Virginity is Hurting Young Women, while researching for an article in my journalism class.  The book had been reviewed on Marie Claire’s website, and even in the heat of an approaching deadline, I made a mental note to actually read it once I got the time.  Fast forward about a month, and the book was glued to my hands everywhere I went—nail and hair salons, Starbucks, en route to the mailbox.  It’s nonfiction, so to say that I couldn’t put it down implies that I was hooked by endearing characters and a wicked climax; rather, the horrific facts and statistics Valenti outlines had an effect on me that was part disgust, part unexplainable intrigue.

Valenti—a grad student whose heavy resume includes co-founding the popular blog feministing.com —states her purpose very clearly in the book’s introduction: “There is a moral panic in America over young women’s sexuality—and it’s entirely misplaced.”  Throughout the book, she targets the organizations and institutions (namely, devout Christian groups and far right-leaning conservatives) she feels are the most responsible for trying to reinforce traditional gender roles and manipulating young women into believing that their entire worth lies in their remaining chaste until marriage.

But let me assure you, this book is not a secular/political bash-fest.  Aside from those factors, Valenti insightfully delves into the harmful effects of abstinence-only sex education (which is federally funded, mind you, and teaches students that it’s against the law to have premarital sex); the porn industry as well as other popular culture that hyper-sexualizes women (even something as seemingly innocent as a Bratz training bra); the incredibly complex yet damaging social concept of masculinity (which makes men believe that women are inherently nonsexual and they are "innately ravenously sexual," which potentially justifies sexual violence and "disallows female sexual expression"); and even how past and present legislation inadvertently control women’s bodies and attempt to minimize rape.  One example of the latter?  In 2004, a Nebraska judge  would not allow the word “rape” to be used in a trial in which a man was accused of (you guessed it), for fear that it sounded “too prejudicial.”

Don't worry; my jaw hit the floor too.

Now, before this passionate yet painfully verbose blogger gets too carried away, I will just say that the characteristic of this book—other than the relevant subject matter, of course—is the wonderfully relatable style in which Valenti writes.  At least every other page is marked with an asterisked footnote in which she inserts her witty reactions to topics raised in the book, and there is a wealth of back-of-the-book features—from discussion questions to notes to resources on how to join the movement . 

Please do not sleep on this book, or turn the other cheek on this issue.  Right now, women are in grave danger.  We are more than our sexuality, more than the disenfranchising virgin/whore dichotomy. Thankfully, inspiring women like Valenti and the countless other activists she mentions throughout her book provide much-needed doses of hope and motivation to fight for change.