virginity doesn't exist
an essay on sex and women
To all young women of the past, today and the future.
The other day, I was in the supermarket when I overheard two girls standing in the sausage department talking about sex —ironic, isn’t it? It turns out one of them had spent quite some time in a bit of a dry spell, and she was afraid that her virginity had been regenerated, as if the sole thought of it could have reformed an invisible barrier inside of her. In that moment, I thought of the many inappropriate ways in which I could have shaken that idea out of her mind. So I looked over at my friend for some reassurance, and I felt a kind of empathy; her eyebrows were already at the touching point with the emergence of her hairline, as she threw a packet of grated cheese into the shopping basket.
I must admit their conversation stirred the cauldron of discord in me. Why are we still so modern in technology, and yet so medieval in our ways of thinking? Even today, “virginity” has no objective medical recognition, and yet some people still wear it like a badge of honour on their chests.
Virginity doesn’t exist. And nobody will change my mind over this.
For a little bit of history, the term “virginity” evolves from the Latin word virgo, which means maiden, and it was initially used to describe the nuns from Ancient Rome—the Vestal Virgins—who were required to keep their chastity as part of their spiritual calling. Its meaning was primarily intended to designate young women, but now it has become part of everyone’s vocabulary.
“Virginity” has indeed been the epicentre of our conversations at least once or twice during puberty. Generally, when we’re too young and curious, there’s this unavoidable moment in which someone apparently cooler and wiser than us—according to our own still immature criteria—shows up to reveal the juicy secrets of the book of life, which only adults and a few lucky teenagers have the privilege to experience first-hand.
From that moment on, the idea of virginity gets imprinted in the back of our minds, like a virus in a computer. If you have never had sex, you’re declared a virgin by societal norms. Period. Unknowingly, this statement influences our perspective on relationships, as well as on our behaviour and decisions around sex. It also implies that there is a unique form of sex—penetration—that’s valid and pleasurable, robbing us of the freedom to choose how we’d rather experience sex for the first time. Consequently, penetration is seen as a “score” that we all must achieve if we’re to experience the so-much-anticipated pleasures of adult life.
From the perspective of a young girl, whose inherent value had never been determined by a penis until that moment, this feels like a big milestone between the incomplete, naive girl that you’ve just found you’re and the fulfilled, experienced woman you must aspire to be—as if we were Cinderella dressed in rags, awaiting the miracle of an upgraded life experience; an experience that only penetration can provide us.
To say “this is ridiculous” is being too generous.
The idea of “virginity” not only conditions how we, as women, perceive ourselves from the moment we are labelled as “virgins”, but it also conditions how others perceive us, to the point that “something we never did” can make us the object of someone’s fetish.
I believe young women are the most vulnerable to this concept. When a girl is starting to question and explore her sexuality, a lot of pressure is put on the appropriate way she should do it, and in some contexts, that means that she shouldn’t do it at all. For instance, back in the days, our grandmothers were taught to sweep the topic of sexuality under the rug, as if it were a shameful subject no one should know about, not even you. The naked truth is that, although we claim that times have changed and even boast about living in a more open-minded era, there’s still a remarkable lack of education around this topic. Precisely, still nowadays, many parents avoid talking to their children about sex. The problem is ignorance itself, and a useless sense of shame around the topic.
The word “virginity” cannot serve the purpose of defining female sexuality for many reasons; one of them, for instance, is that the term originates from a religious heterosexual perspective, which directly implies the erasure of lesbians’ experiences from the narrative. Another reason would be that it sustains the false belief that a woman’s hymen preserves their virginity status, expecting it to get broken during their first sexual intercourse. In addition, there’s this set of wrong ideas about what must happen to a woman once she has sex with a man for the first time, like normalising bleeding and pain. All this is utter nonsense.
I would like to make clear that when sex is painful, it means that something is wrong, and it shouldn’t be ignored or normalised. I cannot talk in the name of every woman here, but what’s certain is that we need to get properly aroused and lubricated before penetration. To put it simply, we need to get wet first.
I dare say that girls only obsess about penetration when the whole idea of “virginity” is presented. Penetration is the starting point for an entire branching of ideas and opinions regarding female sexuality. The idea that “losing your virginity” is a defining milestone in women’s sexuality can generate significant pressure to lose it as soon as possible or hand it over at the “right” time with the “right” person, promoting prolonged chastity against one’s biological needs.
I have heard of real stories about girls around the age of 12 to 14 years old, who were so obsessed with losing their virginity that they resorted to older boys who took advantage of the situation and their vulnerable state. These girls ended up deeply traumatised after being practically forced into sex with these depraved guys, who weren’t precisely careful and considerate with them.
It’s more than demonstrated that “virginity” fosters a feeling of anxiety, insecurity and low self-esteem in young women. When girls learn that “virginity” conditions their inherent worth, they may feel diminished until they complete this rite of passage. This can make them internalise that their identity or worth depends on their sexual status, reinforcing a sexist narrative that devalues them as autonomous individuals.
What if these young girls from previously were never brainwashed by the concept of virginity in the first place? Would they have been in such a hurry to experience penetration to remove a label imposed on them? Definitely not.
When we all agree that a woman is a “virgin”, even when she has already experienced an orgasm without the help of a man, we are invalidating her as an already whole sexual being. This “virginity” idea entails that a woman’s experience of sex and pleasure won’t be fully acknowledged until she experiences penetration. This way of thinking also holds a duality in itself. Losing your virginity not only promises a badge of social recognition, but at the same time, it means a loss for women; the loss of innocence, pureness, and anything good and holy ended in “-ness”. Losing our virginity means that we remain stained forever, and all this by virtue and grace of a penis —such powerful gadgets, these dicks are.
In some countries, girls are obliged to undergo “virginity” tests at a very young age to verify their hymen status; a test to check whether their hymen is still preserved. Especially in these cases, it is more than evident how the concept of “virginity” reinforces the acts of domination and oppression of men over women. It becomes a sexist idea entailing a sexist performance that pretends to define and condition how women should experience their own sexuality. The OMS has already declared these practices to be a violation of women’s human rights and advocates for their prohibition1.
What people from these oppressive communities ignore is the fact that the hymen’s state cannot be a source of evidence for sexual activity in any possible way.
The hymen is a thin, elastic tissue that surrounds (it doesn’t cover) the vaginal opening. Its shape, size and elasticity differ greatly in every woman, so it’s not a perfect circle. It is thought that its function is to protect the vagina from any possible infections, especially before the vaginal flora forms. Its integrity cannot be a sign of “virginity” for many natural reasons. It can tear or stretch due to various activities, such as using tampons, undergoing gynaecological exams, or playing sports like swimming, cycling or horseback riding. Besides, it is very rare to be born with a hymen that has no opening —and if that’s the case, medical intervention is required2.
It is worth noting again that the “loss of virginity” originally revolved around a sole aspect of heterosexual intercourse, that is, penetration. However, penetration is not the only means of pleasure for women. We should give some credit to the clitoris for that account. The clitoris is a large inner organ that surrounds the vaginal cavity, and is only partially visible at the top of the vulva, where the inner vaginal lips meet. This visible part of the clitoris is called the “clitoral glans” and is a very sensitive spot. The clitoris is the primary source of women’s pleasure, and when women are taught about “virginity”, this information seems to be relegated to the background of their sexual experience, bringing “penetration” right to the forefront, as if it were the main goal to be conquered.
Pleasure is a subjective experience for everyone, so when someone treats penetration as a superior form of sex, that’s not an absolute truth but just another opinion. There are no hierarchies in sex and pleasure; only the forms in which to experience it are different, and all of them are valid ways as long as they were not forced into us.
I believe the concept of “virginity” has done more psychological harm than good, and for this reason, I suggest we should stop using the term for the sake of young women and generations to come.
Some of whom have built their identity around the idea of virginity will say that all of this is utter nonsense, and that I am a far-left feminist against penetration and anything projected in a phallic shape. But that’s far from true. I just wish we understood—once and for all—that penetration is just a slice of the cake, and not the sole purpose of women’s sexual experience.
If you’ve read this far, thank you.
Love,
Lidia.
very important article!! well written and i can only agree that "penetration is just a slice of the cake, and not the sole purpose of women’s sexual experience."
god, I still sourly remember the drama around losing your virginity as a teenager. This is a really important article!