First, I find it important to express that the society of the United States has long been one governed by a patriarchal and even a puritanical worldview, stemming from the country's origins and history. It is a battle continuously fought against this day by feminist and allies alike. However, this underlying theme has influenced one of the most popular of world religions to manifest in ways, although on the surface seem positive, hold a controlling element of demeaning toxicity. I speak that of the Fundamentalist Christian or Mainstream Christian Right's emphasis on 'purity' in all things, such as modesty in clothing and attire, guarding one's virginity towards marriage, and remaining pure in one's overall conduct so as to be 'above reproach'.
Although a long held belief by Christian Extremists, the Purity Culture truly took root and began to flourish in the 1990s. With the backdrop of the AIDs epidemic, Christian leaders and parents saw that as an opportunity to sharply condemn sex outside of marriage as a reasoning for the reality of sin's destruction. As I type, I find myself wanting to share something positive about the overall Purity Culture, in order to not to seem bias. Yet, all I can recognize is that the need to protect one's children from the horrors of disease or other outside troubles is at its core understandably noble in its own way. But, as the years went by, the AIDs epidemic became less of a threat, yet the Purity Culture and the Christian leadership ramped up its vitriolic control, in the guise of love, the effect of which left those taught with an ample supply of body and sexual fear, shame, and guilt.
And, thus was I. This is my story.
I wasn't raised Christian, or of any faith, for that matter. Although in my early years of childhood, I had some belief of 'God', like the cartoons pictured him in a long white bearded dude, in a white gown, floating around in the clouds. Later on, in high school, I spent summers pouring through books on Buddhism and most notably Wiccan and Paganism. My pathway towards Christianity was marked with an overall interest in being a seeker of 'something else' coupled with an increasing degree of unresolved pain from lifelong abuse and feelings of neglect. Constantly seeking outside for some connection, a savior to rescue whether a boyfriend or something else, I found myself falling into the organized religion of Christianity in the brand of my college's town local branch of 'Calvary Chapel'. On par with my need for outward protection and love, my not good at all college boyfriend dragged me to the church and then proudly proclaimed how he 'led me to the lord' to all we knew. I don't want to give an overall 'testimony' of the highs and lows of my journey through Calvary's form of Christianity and its effects, I have done so in previous blog entries, but I do feel it of import for this entry to state that as much as I sought outwardly for some rescuer, I pushed all authentic connection far from me out of my own fearful insecurities of letting others into an already damaged heart.
In short, I was ripe for the teachings of the 'purity culture' and its weaponized usage of the teachings of Jesus. And, thus it did. When I became a Christian at age 22, give or take, I had already committed the act of premarital sex a few times, rather, I was not a virgin. Indeed, the not good at all college boyfriend and I continued to have a sex during the time while he professed outward purity to his Christian friends, in addition to his rampant alcohol and drug abuse, inability to hold a job, manipulation, emotional abuse and control, etc, etc, etc. Furthermore, my dress was that of what was popular in society at the time for young ladies my age, not over all sexual or immodest, but short shirts, shorts, skirts that showed just the slightest bit of skin or even cleavage and was hitherto seen as scandalous. I must add, that since the development of puberty my body has always been that of 'Barbie-Doll like', large breasts, no waist, nothing else. Increasingly, I was taught that my body was a trap for men and boys, that I had to be responsible for their weakness, and that they could not control themselves.
A few years into this, I attended a Purity Conference with a high/middle school youth group of which I was a counselor. At one point, the boys were ushered off to another room while the girls and women were lectured by a twentysomething junior pastor about why they should dress modestly, comparing our cleavage to a boy's loose pants signifiying how his butt crack seemingly would be as distracting as our revealing shirts. We all laughed together as much as I cringe today. Later, back together, we all bowed in prayer, asking God for help to remain pure for ourselves but mostly for others. As the years tumbled forth and I became deeper in my mental health woes, my body felt like a weapon against my battle to remain pure, I at fault for every time a man 'stumbled' into sexual sin or lust. As I progressed I developed body dysmorphia and anorexia, I began dieting and exercising excessively with the attempt to stem off the pain and reduce my body to a size more like a child then a sexual object, for my protection as well as the men of whom I had become a Jezebel.
Added to that, I continuously found myself engaging in relationships with men that were controlling, thus enter my husband, he of the worst of abusive past relationships. Breaking up with him, kicking him out of my life, was the first brick to crumble away from those that sought to minimize and control. During my marriage and then increasingly after, I began my long held dream of 'nude modeling'. It was a dare at first, could I do it?
In the early days of modeling, I faced a bit of a backlash, not just from the former Fundie world I had newly emerged, but from society at large. Nudity and posing nude in our society at large is likened to 'sex-work', although being an art model is so far removed from anything related to sex that they are all barely in the same category. The reality that a 'nude' art model whether for fine art or photography is seen as sexual or even scandalous is a mark against this country. With the Hollywood enforced ideal 'beauty', shame is felt for those who don't measure up, whether realized outward or felt inward, and thus the inability to feel comfortable in one's skin, let alone nude in front of an artist and random assortment of strangers in an art class. (I ask you, how do you think the women in the paintings you love to view at a museum even got there, did they just come out of the painter's imagination?)
Thus, in the early days of my modeling career alongside my deconstructing from fundamentalist Christianity and the effects of such, I doubled down against those who scandalized and sexualized art modeling. Buying clothing that were too revealing or sexual, for no other reason, than both that I liked it and that it could be possibly used for this career, the latter having no use for such attire. Yet, as I continued to work, I began to find joy in hearing how the art is crafted, see the similarity of a fine artist preparation and that of an actor or writer, and along the way I built some special connections and friendships between the students and the teachers.
Re-entering therapy during the time of quarantine, I began taking the space to heal, to prioritize, and found myself diving deep into my own art therapy journey. Purchasing all sorts of paints, crafts, brushes, markers, crayons, colored pencils, a sketch book, and canvases, I began playing around with art for my own self. Additionally, the modeling work began to flourish as my loyalty to the job had paid off in my relationship with the teachers. Exercising and eating right became not about striving towards some unattainable perfection but more about being able to have stamina and longtivity in holding positions, as well as a myriad of other health benefits. In class, I began to listen intently to the ways art was taught and think about how I could apply it in my own learning. I started thinking about past models in history, who where they, and why weren't there any art history classes about models. This led to a web search wherein a plethora of art models from the 1800s onward came flooding into my life, followed by reading book after book about them and their lives.
Through all of this, I have realized that in and of itself nudity is not scandalous or sexual and that art is necessary for healing and connection for us all. My desire to try out 'nude modeling' led me into the career I was meant to occupy, which led to my deepest of healing from the damages of toxic purity culture and society's implied beauty rules to feeling healthy and secure, positive about who I am within and without.
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