Why ‘virginity’ is a damaging social construct

By volunteer Katy Elliott, With contributions from School of Sexuality Education’s Dr Emma Chan.

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During School of Sexuality Education's workshops, students ask us questions about virginity, and these largely come from a heteronormative perspective. In this piece, School of Sexuality Education volunteer Katy Elliott explores this perspective and why re-defining 'virginity' is important for all.

When I was a teenager, ‘virginity’ felt like quite a big deal. I spoke to my friends about ‘losing it’ and I worried I would be the last ‘virgin’ left. I thought ‘losing your virginity’ meant having penis-in-vagina sex and nothing else would count. I’d heard about the ‘hymen’ and worried that when I did have sex, I would bleed and it would be embarrassing. Quite frankly, virginity and sex made me anxious and scared.

I wish I’d had lessons from School of Sexuality Education to set things straight.

At School of Sexuality Education, we work to dispel the myths surrounding the traditional understanding of ‘virginity’. We help young people understand that sex means different things to different people and there is no right or wrong way to have it. We encourage people to do what feels right for them (and any partner/s) and not feel pressured into anything. And we try to deconstruct ideas around ‘virginity’ which can be heteronormative and contribute to gender inequality.

So, what is a social construct?

Put simply, a social construct is an idea created by society. It’s not always something concrete we can see, like rivers, mountains and oceans. Instead, social constructs are how we humans make sense of the world. Social constructs are driven by the ideas and beliefs which exist in our societies. The pressures, myths and expectations surrounding the traditional idea of ‘virginity’ are very much the product of norms and ideas created by us humans.

Why is the social construct of virginity damaging?

1. The focus on penis-in-vagina sex erases other experiences.

Contrary to what the traditional understanding of virginity would have you believe, penis-in-vagina sex is not the only way to have sex. Human beings are a glorious variety of wants, needs and preferences. Sex can mean very different things to different people. The most important thing is doing what feels right for you.

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School of Sexuality Education's definition of sex is 'anything that makes you feel horny or aroused'. This means that sex doesn't just have to be between a man with a penis and a woman with a vulva. It can take place between people of varying genders - the same or different to each other. It can take place between people with different or the same types of genitalia, even using different body parts. What makes some people 'horny' might not even involve genitalia (or other people) at all. Examples of sexual activities for some people include oral sex, anal sex, kissing, cuddling, massages, masturbation, and hand-play!

The traditional concept of virginity buys into the idea that the only type of sex that 'counts' is penetrative penis-in-vagina. This ignores the preferences, desires and lived sexual experiences of many people. In doing so it enforces a very particular heteronormative idea of sex and relationships on society.

In addition, many people with a vulva and vagina don’t orgasm from penetrative sex, and get the most pleasure from clitoral stimulation. But because our understanding of what it means to have sex is shaped by this idea of virginity, it’s often thought penis-in-vagina sex is the ‘main’ way to have sex, with the result that people don’t explore other parts of their body, for example the clitoris. Many miss out on a lot of pleasure because they don’t understand that other types of sex exist.

I’ve said it once, but I’ll say it again - the most important thing to remember here is that sex exists in many different wonderful forms and no single type of sex is the most important or valid. Regardless of your sexuality or gender, sex and pleasure is yours to define and experience in whatever way is best for you.

2. The association between purity and virginity serves to police women’s bodies

The idea of virginity equating to moral and personal purity has long been used to control some bodies - usually those seen as female, through a lens of gender as both binary and fixed. Examples of this can be found within ‘Purity Culture’. I spoke to my friend Katie Brookfield, an expert in this area, to give us her thoughts:

Virginity has long been a key factor in determining a ‘woman’s worth’ and therefore their bodies are heavily policed. The emphasis on virginity emerged as our ancestors moved from communal, hunter-gatherer communities to land-owning societies. Keeping land meant having (male) heirs, and therefore it was imperative that there be no question of parentage. The solution? Ensure that a wife or concubine is a ‘virgin’ to secure a pure lineage, land and, ultimately, power. 

My particular area of study is around the relationship between religion and sexuality. From Abraham to abstinence pledges, virginity has been a focal element of a woman’s purity and, consequently, their value. Whilst sexual purity has long been associated with religion  - in many ways because of the link between holiness and asceticism - it is in recent years that it has taken on a whole new dimension. Pervasive within the conservative Christian community, ‘purity culture’ has infiltrated not just churches, but schools, healthcare providers and even governments.

Proponents of purity culture are concerned with both physical and emotional purity, only allowing for two rigid, contrasting gender roles. There is a heavy emphasis on the purity of women and their responsibility to keep male counterparts from ‘stumbling’. They are both controlled by and the gate-keepers of this concept of purity. Physical appearance is heavily monitored, with strict rules on modest dress for young women who have to be aware of their hemline, neckline and even their eyeliner, to ensure men do not look at them lustfully. 

Young people are told to flee from the hypothetical ‘how far is too far’ line, yet this again is the responsibility of the woman. Men are painted as uncontrollable creatures who rely on a pure woman to keep their raging sexuality under wraps until the wedding night - an idea which contributes significantly to rape culture, FYI. Women, on the other hand, are taught nothing of pleasure and desire, but are instead told to ‘guard their heart’. They need to be as vigilant about guarding their emotional virginity as they are their physical. Why? Because whether physical or emotional virginity, a woman gives away a piece of her heart each time. She becomes damaged goods; a used, impure woman unable to give her whole self to her future husband. This ‘purity myth’ controls every aspect of a woman’s body: what they wear, what they think, and what they let between their legs.

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3. The hymen is a myth

Like many people, I thought a hymen was a stretchy piece of cling film-like membrane which covered the vaginal opening. I thought it was the same for everyone and you could break it by inserting a tampon, riding a horse, or having penis-in-vagina sex. Turns out that isn’t the case. 

RFSU, a Swedish sex education charity actually prefer the term ‘vaginal corona’ which has no hymen-related myths associated with it. The vaginal corona is made up of folds of tissue and comes in lots of different shapes and sizes. If you deliver a baby vaginally, it can change and become less visible. And in very rare cases, it can cover the vaginal opening completely, requiring medical assistance because period blood can’t leave the body.

The link between hymens and virginity is a social construct. You can’t tell if someone has had sex by looking at their genitalia - the shape and size of the vagina doesn't change size with penetrative sex, nor does the hymen change from penis-in-vagina sex. You may have heard US rapper T.I. 's comments about accompanying his daughter to the gynaecologist each year to check her hymen (and therefore virginity) was still intact. This statement – quite rightly – caused outrage, not least because the practice of ‘virginity testing’ is condemned by the United Nations as a type of violence against women and girls. And also because what this young person decides to do with their body has absolutely nothing to do with their parent. 

In the book Vagina: A Re-education, Lynn Enright discusses how the incorrect belief that people with a vulva will bleed the first time they have sex can be very dangerous. In some cultures, if a person with a vulva does not bleed when having penis-in-vagina sex with their husband for the first time, this is seen as shameful. It can even be used to excuse violence against this individual. Because of this, some doctors in the UK and throughout the world offer ‘hymen repair’ procedures. The procedure involves stitching together vaginal tissue, which will break and cause bleeding upon penetrative sex. As with any surgery, this procedure comes with some risks. It’s also completely unnecessary from a medical perspective, existing purely because of social beliefs which mean it’s expected for a person with a vulva to bleed on their wedding night.

A new social construct?

Social constructs are shaped by human ideas and beliefs. They exist due to human ideas and beliefs. And they continue to exist because humans keep spreading these ideas and beliefs. In the case of virginity, this can be through sex education which puts a lot of focus on penis-in-vagina sex. It can be through religious and cultural ideas which are passed down through generations. It can be through portrayals of sex in movies and porn. And the dominant views and beliefs often win out, sometimes making social constructs resistant to change.

So maybe it’s time that we took charge and actively shaped the social construct of virginity for the better. By teaching young people that sex (and therefore virginity) means different things to different people. By acknowledging that all experiences of sex are valid. And the most important thing? That if, how and when you have sex has nothing to do with anyone else and everything to do with what’s right for you - and any sexual partner/s, of course.

**We have an online worksheet all about The Virginity Myth using teachable moment from Netflix’s ‘Sex Education’ (suitable for 16+) here.

Illustrations by Evie Karkera, unless otherwise credited.

Our book ‘Sex Ed: An Inclusive Teenage Guide to Sex and Relationships’​is out​ ​now.

Preparing to teach Relationships and Sex Education in secondary schools

School of Sexuality Education

Since September 2019, School of Sexuality Education has been working with academics at UCL’s Institute of Education – alongside other RSE experts and classroom practitioners – to develop and deliver a short course for trainee teachers. The course is the first of its kind, providing PGCE students with five full days spread across the 19/20 academic year to learn about the background and policy behind RSE in the UK, alongside vital topics such as gender and sexuality identity, consent, inclusivity and sexual health. The programme was developed as part of a knowledge exchange project with our partnership schools on the Secondary PGCE programme, to try and better understand the needs of teachers and schools in London in developing good practice in RSE.

This year, the course participants have included Social Science and Biology PGCE students with some specialists in Physics and Chemistry too. Student teachers opted into the course because they recognise the value of RSE and felt that developing expertise in the area would be important for their future careers in the classroom. The government has also recently acknowledged the need for comprehensive and up-to-date RSE in schools with the release of new guidance which states that the subjects involved ‘represent a huge opportunity to help our children and young people develop.’

During the planning phase for the course, we supported the convenors (Sarah Worton and Alison Wiggins of UCL’s IoE) in designing a series of sessions to offer core RSE knowledge and practical teaching ideas while building an awareness of what a whole-school approach to gender and sexuality inclusivity might look like. The intention was to equip teachers with the skills, knowledge and confidence required to deliver high quality, progressive Relationships and Sex Education. Beyond that, we wanted trainee teachers to feel comfortable in supporting students who had questions or struggles outside of the classroom linked to their gender identity, sexuality or relationships.

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On day 1, Professor Jessica Ringrose delivered an intro to gender, sexuality and RSE then School of Sexuality Education’s CEO and founder, Amelia Jenkinson, delivered an interactive session about how to challenge heteronormativity in schools. She shared resources, key points on language and links to government guidance to support trainee teachers in understanding the context of RSE while providing pragmatic classroom solutions. On day 2, trainee teachers heard from Dr Sara Bragg who applied queer theory to our understandings and assumptions around education and young people. Following this, the student teachers heard from Lucy Emmerson (director of the Sex Education Forum) and Rachael Baker (senior RSE specialist at the Sex Education Forum) who discussed the government 2020 RSE guidance and interrogated the idea of ‘age-appropriateness’ in RSE. For day 3, student teachers were visited by Professor Emma Renold (Cardiff University) who shared creative ideas and resources for the RSE classroom based on her work on the Agenda positive relationships resource. All of these days were supported by sessions and talks from the course conveners at UCL.

The ranging perspectives provided by these different professionals, paired with the expertise of tutors and classroom practitioners, has provided great layers of insight for the trainee teachers on the course. One noted that ‘having the guest speakers was helpful… it gave us a community and showed us the array of people that are out there’ while another said ‘I loved having a range of people involved…it’s a really positive thing to have people who have different backgrounds and experiences.’

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In the coming months, we hope to cement the learning of those first three days and will ensure that all the trainee teachers involved feel ready to try the ideas in the classroom in September. Being involved in the course has been a great experience for School of Sexuality Education – we’re thrilled to be part of a pioneering programme which is equipping the next generation of teachers with vital skills. We know that many existing teachers are keen to take part in this kind of training too. Like all subjects, educators need training to develop necessary knowledge, skills and confidence in order to teach well. In the coming months and years, we hope to develop opportunities like this one for all subject PGCEs and all teachers, wherever they are in their career. We want feelings of embarrassment to be replaced with empowerment, so that teachers can address important issues head on and support the young people in their care. We’re already certain that those involved in the short course this year will do just that!

If you’re interested in taking part in one of our future teacher training programmes, get in touch – we’d love to hear from you.

Illustrations by Evie Karkera, unless otherwise credited.

Our book ‘Sex Ed: An Inclusive Teenage Guide to Sex and Relationships’​is out​ ​now.


Are you a current, prospective or trainee teacher interested in this course? we’d love to hear from you! please email info@schoolofsexed.org

Thank you for looking and feeling like me

written by School of Sexuality Education’S gayathiri KAMALAKANTHAN.

Decolonising Contraception is an organisation that promotes conversation about the unfair and harmful sexual and reproductive health practices that have stemmed from colonisation that impacts people of colour (POC). DC organise spaces to discuss how POC, and especially how queer POC can be empowered presently and in the future, with regard to their own sexual health and education. 

The last panel discussion centred around POC LGBTQIA+ visibility - that is, the importance of seeing queer people of colour in local spaces, particularly, in hospitals and sexual health clinics. And not just that, but seeing people who look like you, openly speaking about their experiences, without shame. 

Decolonise Contraception

One of the panelists, Dr Ronx, a queer, black A&E doctor, spoke about how patients in the paediaitric wards they work on open up to them (often for the first time) about their queer feelings. Dr Ronx carefully considers their words when speaking to young people - something which is apparent in their incredibly significant opening question when beginning these conversations: 'Hi, nice to meet you. What are your pronouns?'

There's a lot to learn from this. 

As a Sexual Health Education facilitator, the first interaction I have with students in a session is important - my approachability is key. The colour of Dr Ronx's skin, the androgynous way they present, their open body language and immediately inclusive language mean that young queer patients recognise that Dr Ronx is someone they can confide in. Dr Ronx’s words are simple, but mean that a young person is given the nod to be themselves.

I asked how they talk to young people about sex - a topic which can be sensitive and where one can easily trip up over assumptions about the other person. When having to ask young people about their sexual and mental health for their own safety, I've at times found it difficult to land on the right words.

Aside from the training provided by the NHS to safeguard underage and young people regarding their sexual health, Dr Ronx has had a wealth of practice at asking non-leading, open ended questions:

What do you mean by sex?

Have you put your lips on anyone?

Has anyone put their lips on you anywhere?

Have you touched anyone who has been naked?

Do you like anyone at school?

Are they a boy or a girl? ('male presenting' or  'female presenting' depending on the age and understanding that the patient may have)

Do you feel a fluttering feeling when you see anyone in particular?

Having heard these questions spoken in an understanding and non-bias tone, I'm reassured that conversations with young people about their sexual health do not have to be one-sided interrogations or quick and embarrassing exchanges. People often mirror the feeling and body language presented to them. The more comfortable and non-restrictive we are as adults when talking sex, the more willing, young people will be to share.   

Here's my own experience of visibility in the field of mental health.

I recently finished a block of counselling sessions with my therapist, who is a women of colour. At first, this did not strike me as important - she was a mental health professional and they all did the same job right? Not quite. 

The more of myself I revealed, the more she proved that she was listening and deeply understood my anxieties that stemmed from cultural pressure. It made a difference that she didn't shrug off my dual lifestyle (nice, academic, Hindu daughter at home, queer sexual health educator everywhere else) as unnecessarily over-complicated or dramatic. Her understanding nods and hums were validating and in contrast with other counsellors I have seen who were dismissive of these inherited, cultural  difficulties and the resulting pain.

A black audience member at the last DC event mentioned how her black midwives were the ones who alerted doctors to her continuing, severe pain. They were the ones who gave her the appropriate attention she deserved, who took her seriously and who she credits for saving her life. 'Black women both in the UK and globally have some of the worst reproductive health outcomes; black women are five times more likely to die in pregnancy'.

It's not that I can't be treated or seen by people who don't look like me or who haven't shared my experience. It's that there seems to be a disparity between the outcome of the treatment received by POC and that of their white counterparts.

So yes, visibility - seeing people that look like us - is important.

It gives us the confidence to voice ourselves and to believe that those words will be truly heard. We are emboldened by those in our community who feel like we do and who have said so.

Non-heteronormative, non-white pathways are not well-trodden and every step helps make our experience the known normal. 


TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT DECOLONISE CONTRACEPTION INCLUDING UPCOMING EVENTS, VISIT THEIR WEBSITE.