Religion, faith and morality shape how free Nigerian women feel to explore their sexuality. Whether you’re Christian, Muslim, or a traditional worshiper, the teachings about sexual purity culture sneak into how you think about sex. You might not be having sex, feel ashamed when you are, be quietly enjoying it, or be saving yourself for the nuptials.
We spoke to four women about what those teachings mean to them and how they affected their sex lives. Here’s what they had to say.
‘’I remember being in church one time and somebody referred to the penis as the master key’’- Bukola*, 27
When I think of purity culture, all I see is another tool the patriarchy uses to stop women from living full lives. Men are encouraged to sleep with as many women as possible. I remember being in church and hearing someone refer to the penis as the ‘master key’ and the vagina as locks that shouldn’t open up to every key. The funniest part is that I actually believed that nonsense at the time.
Many things contributed to me awakening my sexuality. It started with simple revenge against ex-boyfriends, and then the stark thought that I might literally die a virgin if I kept going that way.
The real shift, though, came specifically after the EndSARS protest. I’d left the toll gate early on October 20, and I remember hearing shootings and all the trauma that followed. That very day, I had a heart-to-heart with my cousin, and she confessed that she had been having sex. I felt like a fool. Everyone was having fun while I was stuck in a mental cage. By December of that year, I decided I was going to do it and had sex with my committal situationship. I’ll be honest, I’ve had some very bad sexual experiences ever since.
Even with how liberal I am, religion and purity culture still get a hold of me. I worry about increasing my body count because of what people will think. Women who wait till marriage have a special place in my heart, and I always pray they’re having fun at the very least. Not suffering from vaginismus or anything. In my opinion, they don’t get to have full sexual lives or experiences, and honestly, that’s just sad.
“I’m still religious, but purity culture doesn’t impact my sexual life anymore’’- Aisha*, 24
Purity culture for me has always been defined as abstinence from sex until after marriage. I’ve always seen virginity for women as a highly valuable thing. Sometimes, even likened to a gift for their future spouses. In Islam, purity culture is deeply intertwined with faith, religion and morality. My religion encourages women to abstain from sexual activity to build spiritual discipline. For Muslim women, it’s about aligning one’s life with a perceived divine will.
Dating now, I am very cautious of my behaviour. Sometimes I feel guilty about having natural attractions to men. But I’ve grown to see sex as something intimate and larger than the rigid rules I grew up with. I allow personal connections to guide my choices now. So, it’s less about following a handbook and more about mutual respect and trust. But I still feel a lot of guilt. It’s like I know I’m committing a sin, but I’m doing it anyway.
It’s difficult for me to talk about my sex life with my friends. Islam teaches that discussing sins can be greater than committing them. This has made me incredibly discreet about discussing sex and intimacy, even in private settings. But I am getting better at speaking about these things, especially with partners.
Thankfully, purity culture doesn’t have a huge impact on my sex life anymore. I am still very religious, but I’ve gained broader perspectives from friends and media.
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“Purity culture is a way to control women’s personal lives’’- Mary*, 26
I see purity culture simply as a way to control women’s personal lives. I’ve never bought into it. The construct is extremely linked to faith, morality and religion, and once something is heavily backed by those three, I start questioning it before I even get there.
Purity culture presents sex and intimacy as a shameful thing, and it’s not even for women and men, but just for women. I think if the same type of judgment and stigma were attached to it for men as it is for women, I wouldn’t have an issue with it. I never had to overcome or unlearn anything about it because I am stubborn. If you tell me not to do something, I will ask why until your answer makes sense to me. Even with sexual partners, I don’t think I’ve ever been ashamed to say or do anything. I am very vocal about what I want, and if I don’t get it, it is very easy for me to walk away.
“Women are expected to say no even with all the pressure men put on them”- Chima*, 23
Purity culture works like a belief system, specifically designed by religious communities. I think it puts a strong focus on women saving themselves for men. A big part of it is the idea that a woman’s value is tied to staying ‘pure,’ which just means not having sex. It’s crazy because the onus is entirely on women to say no to sex, even with all the pressure men put on them. The same men that will shame them for giving in to that pressure.
I grew up believing that physical and sexual intimacy was meant for married couples only. Sexual activity only started for me this year, and even then, the beliefs instilled in me as a child have greatly influenced my hesitation towards it. And I’m not even as religious as I was. Being less religious is not something I’m exactly proud of, but it’s just where I am right now. A lot of my unlearning has come from deconstructing teachings I grew up hearing, especially those that place a perceived value on virginity and the glaring differences in that value between men and women.
The biggest thing for me is that I haven’t had penetrative sex yet. Religion isn’t the only reason, but it’s definitely a major influence. There’s this lingering belief that once I do, I’ll lose my “purity” or no longer be a “virgin.” It’s funny because I’ve done other things that technically blur that line, yet it still feels like a mental block, like I’m holding onto something I’m not even sure I believe in anymore. Even with masturbation, there’s still a sense of guilt, as if I’d be disappointing God or losing His love if I went too far. I know these thoughts come from years of conditioning, and while I understand they don’t define my worth or how much God loves me regardless, it’s still something I’m learning to unlearn, slowly and with compassion for myself.
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