i only accept apologies in cash

When I was a child, from the time I was about four and could understand things, my mom told me and my brother that we should have a secret word. That way, if we were ever in trouble or felt unsafe and we didn’t want the people around us to know we needed her to come get us, we could let her know. So she let us pick the word and my brother and I chose the phrase “peanut butter cups.” (I’m happy to share the phrase now since both my brother and I are adults now). 

I used the phrase twice in my life. Once, I was at a friends house when I eight years old. Her dad got really drunk and was throwing things against the wall. I was really scared and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself on the phone when I called my mom to come get me because I didn’t know if he would get more violent if I asked her to come get me. So I called her and was calm and after a couple minutes I asked “Hey mommy, did you get me those peanut butter cups from the store?” And she said “I’ll be right there.” And she came and got me within minutes. 

Second, I was a teenager spending the night at a friends house. Her brother and dad were drinking and they started talking about things that made me uncomfortable - ie: what they liked to do to women. My friend didn’t seem perturbed and said that was normal for them and that I shouldn’t worry. But I was worried because they were really drunk and I was 15 and the only ‘woman’ around that wasn’t related to them. I went in my friends room, told her I needed to call my mom and say goodnight. Before I hung up with her I asked “Next time we go to the store, can we get some peanut butters cups? I’ve been craving them.” And she came and got me, just like that. 

Even if you just ask the child “Do you know this person” if the adult butt’s in make sure to ASK THE CHILD! Even a shy kid will tell you they don’t know this person or just met them or something!

Maturity, for human beings to mature, is the unfolding of genetic potential over time and experience. Our brains are born half-baked and have to be shaped by our environment. For example, I was born with the capacity to learn Cantonese; but as nobody ever spoke Cantonese to me, that capacity went unrealized, so if I want to learn it now, I have to struggle to bring those capabilities to fruition. 

This comes up in my work in mental health, with regards to emotional maturity. Emotional maturity, in large part, is the ability to perceive and understand your own emotional needs; to be able to tell which are valid and important and which are unhelpful or disproportionate; to have a variety of skills, habits, and abilities which will address those needs; and to be able to tell which ways of coping are appropriate for which situation. We teach classes, entire curriculums, on getting in touch with your emotions and mastering your responses to them.

We don’t talk about “sexual maturity” in nearly the same way. “Sexual maturity” gets talked about like… “Congrats, 10-year-old girl! You’ve got your period, which means you’re now a woman capable of bearing a child! You’re sexually mature!” which is SO fucked up.

Proposing “sexual maturity” in a way parallel to “emotional maturity” kind of shakes me to my bones. I can’t imagine going into all the institutions that shaped me when I grew up and saying, “You are neglecting an important part of the development of the children you serve. For them to become healthy and mature adults, they need to be able to understand their sexual needs and desires, or lack thereof; understand how to judge whether a sexual experience is desirable and healthy, or unhealthy or aversive; to be able to recognize lack of desire or attraction, and be able to set boundaries, reject unwanted intimacy, and refuse unwanted sex; to learn a variety of skills, habits, and abilities (like using fantasy, self-stimulation, artistic expression, role-play, or genuine sexual encounter) with which to meet their needs in healthy ways; to care about the autonomy, feelings, and needs of other people with whom they interact; and to be able to tell which ways of meeting their needs are appropriate given the situation and person they are with.”

Or, well, I can imagine. I can imagine getting thrown out of every school, church, community league, and Girl Guide troop I tried it in. “You want us to teach these children WHAT?” Because suggesting that children be taught about something is tantamount to suggesting they be abused, dragged into a foreign world into which they might hopefully never wander otherwise.

I’ve been digging deep into sex and society lately and am so struck, over and over, with how much my culture of origin (Anglo-European, North American, Christian) absolutely valorizes sexual immaturity. In a world where sex is “dirty”, complete ignorance of sex–both in general, and your own sexuality in particular–is seen as “pure”, as “innocent”. As desirable. The very knowledge of your own sexual desires degrades you as a person.

I guess it’s because I am a Christian, I know a lot of current or former Christians, who feel very betrayed by purity culture’s fundamental promise of a beautiful romantic life: You don’t have to become sexually mature to have all your needs met. They will be met for you. What you have to do to earn this future is to stay pure and don’t understand, express, or explore your sexuality in any way.

This means that we were promised that if we never thought about sex, never thought about what we wanted or needed a day in our lives, one day someone would come along who would know for us and make sure all our needs were met. And the more we tried to understand or meet those needs ourselves, the more we polluted ourselves and ruined our chances of obtaining that beautiful future partnership.

I grew up trying to ignore the bitter stories of former Christians who discovered sex and found it really great and left their faith. But what I found–and what a lot of the people I’ve talked to lately found–was that instead, we discovered our faith, our chastity, wasn’t getting us what we’d been promised; instead it made us dry, desiccated, unhappy, unfulfilled, lonely, and full of shame. We didn’t leave the Church for the arms of a willing lover; we left it for a lonely road to a world where we had to shift for ourselves, and we’d been specifically discouraged from ever learning any of the skills that would let us do that. We left it for Tinder profiles and a bunch of matches we didn’t even know what we’d do with, if we ever got them.

Especially for women, and for LGBTQ+ people–and especially for those of us who are both–this legacy of silence, shame, and neglect isn’t just a trauma in the past; it’s an active impediment to the present and future. We’re pressed in on all sides between dating tips to “Be confident! Just be yourself!”, positivity culture that says, “Love your body! Enjoy having sex!”, and purity police hunting down “deviant perverts” whenever we try to express how shameful and frightening sex can be, or try to imagine our way forward with it. Instead we just pick at each other and post memes about “useless lesbians” and don’t rock the boat by questioning how we got here or how we’re getting out.

The one thing I know about shame is that it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you feel ashamed, and act like that shame is right, you become even more entrapped in a world of secrecy, silence, and judgment. It’s only when you admit it’s there but deny its legitimacy that you gain any ground.