I got a postcard in the mail from my father. It was a personalized card with a photo I took at 16-years-old of my father and mother’s hands holding each other.

I remember that day, in the living room of our home in Enterprise, AL. The summers so hot you couldn’t check the mail with out sweating, and winters so cold they felt like spring.

My mother had just had a miscarriage, she was laying on the couch trying to recover. My father was in a chair next to her.

This photo I took as a representation of pure and true love. I used a photo of my own purity ring and laid it over the photo, an image which would become the icon for my own purity website. (The website is no longer active.)

At that time in my life, the image was a promise of my future. Today, as I turned the postcard to see the photo, it just triggered passed trauma.

I grew up in a home where purity culture was as big as our evangelical belief in god. Books like “I Kissed Dating Goodbye” were what I read for fun. I believed in the religion as much as any single person could, and with it, I believed in the promise that if I didn’t “give my body away” before my wedding night, that I would be guaranteed the perfect love story.

My parent’s rule was no dating until marriage. I was told I should not even kiss until marriage and hand holding should only be after serious commitment. My frizzy hair, baggy clothes, long skirts and purity ring on my wedding finger were somehow supposed to attract a handsome young lad (or older, helps with dominating young women), he fall madly in love with me and we marry. At this point, I would be allowed to move out of my fathers home and into my husbands home where I could now serve him.

Writing has always been a passion of mine. That mixed with the desire to please my neglectful father, it was a recipe for a cringy “movement”. And by movement, of course I mean: website.

The year the Jonas Brothers graced the Rolling Stones cover clad in their purity rings and sexy styles, I wrote an article which pleased my father enough for him to publish it online and send it to multiple magazines. A blog even posted about the article which to this day is my most read piece of writing. (And is also no longer online.)

I emailed the article to my dad and went to bed. By the time I woke up the next morning, he had already published it without even asking.

Being a submissive, brainwashed teenager with daddy issues, this spurred me on to write more. All I ever wanted was to be recognized and loved for my creative endeavors, and this one was actually being supported!

I wrote many more articles, photoshopped photos and even made a few videos. (I’m so glad I didn’t get recognition on YouTube back then…)

In 2009 I moved out of my parent’s home against their will. I had been raised to be a wife and mother, with little education and zero job or life skills, I had to figure things out on my own.

Additionally, I was a horny 18 year old that had been scared from touching herself at a very young age. I was hot, ready and didn’t know how or feel the freedom to “take care” of myself.

So in addition to the stumbling mess of trying to start my own life, I was also trying to figure out my sexuality. And by “figure out”, I mean “contain”.

Things I had been taught about sex:

-Don’t do it until you’re married.

-If you do it before you’re married, you’re a broken rose, chewed gum, a ripped present and who would even want you?

-Your virginity is the value you have to give. That and birthing children to a man.

Things I was never taught:

-How to use condoms.

-How to talk to boys.

-You can be friendly with a boy without having to hope for marriage.

-CONCENT!!

-Contraception/Protection/SAFE SEX.

The first boyfriend I had, we kissed. It was the shittiest kiss ever! I wondered if the magic was lost because I gave in so soon.

When I gave my boyfriend oral sex, I remember struggling with my best friend over whether that meant I had lost my virginity. This was a question that determined what value I even had left now.

My next boyfriend pushed sex immediately, before he was even my boyfriend. He was aggressive and openly had rape fantasies.

Anyone who might could have had conversations with me about protecting myself, boundaries, safety, all pulled away from me because me having sex was inviting the devil into my life and they had to distance themselves from me.

When I was raped, I didn’t even know that’s what it was until a friend told me. I didn’t even know an “intimate partner” could rape you. I didn’t know consent mattered even in relationships.

When I talked to someone in the church about my predicament, they told me that I had to be careful about turning a man on, because once he was started there was no stopping him.

When I was 20 I became pregnant and I was nowhere close to ready. Still I struggled over the need to be pure, battling daily with religious and sexual trauma.

I failed. I was worthless. Who could ever love me or want me? Everything bad that happened I accepted as punishment for my sins.

Over the years I’ve slowly learned and worked on healing from the damage religion and purity culture did to me. There is still a lot of work to be done, but it’s better than it was.

Additionally, I’ve pulled far away from my family, especially my father who reaches out daily even after requests for him to stop.

Recently I found out that the writings, photos and videos I made for my Why Purity website, he still has public on a different site. I asked repeatedly for these to be removed, and the response is for him to send the content to me over and over stating that if I read my own words I might be reminded of the love I lost when I left him and religion.

When I receive communications I choose to block them. But that doesn’t stop the mail.

Today I received a postcard, which I was already upset because it was from him. Then I turned it around to see the photo I made as a teenager along with the link to his personal website where he has archived my own creations.

As you can imagine, this was quite triggering.

As a child, I was fed a lie. I was told that if I did just the right thing, my life would be a certain way. I was told that my own instincts were of the devil. I was taught that being human was bad, and being a woman meant I had a place I needed to stay in.

This was a lie!

I want you to know that your value is not based on your sex life. Consent is not based on your relationship status. You don’t owe anybody anything! Your body is yours, your life is yours, and you get to define what that means.

As a woman, your voice matters. Your opinion matters. You have every right to go and be in any room a man is welcome. There is no job, position, or life path you are not welcome in.

Own your shit! And don’t let anyone push you or tell you that you have to do something just because of your sex, religion or family.

You have every right to cut off anyone who is causing you harm.

No one has any right to you unless you open that door, and you are allowed to close the door back at any time.

If you are mid fuck and you decide you don’t want to be doing that any more, you can say no and it needs to stop right then. If it doesn’t, that is assault, that is rape.

If you are dealing with trauma, and someone tries to invalidate that, they are the ones in the wrong, not you.

Some will just say it is my fault because I didn’t wait. I failed god, my father, and my husband. I am the one in the wrong, I am the one who couldn’t follow through. But I know what's true. I hope one day, you do too.