Virginity—it’s a loaded word.
We women are told that virginity is something that makes us pure. Virginity is a thing to protect. A thing another person will eventually take away. It goes hand in hand with a host of other, crueler words. If we give it away, we’re called sluts. If we hang on to it, we’re called prudes. Once it’s lost, something is gone forever.
Some thing?
Virginity isn’t a possession locked behind a chastity belt or spread wide on silken sheets. It’s not a ripe cherry waiting to be plucked, popped, or eaten. Virginity is a state of being. Being a virgin means standing on one side of an experience, not yet having walked through the door. Crossing the threshold is far more about gaining something than about losing it.
It feels like a big deal and in many ways it is. Sexual experiences put us in the closest possible contact with another person. Tongues circle. Thighs press and squeeze. Hands caress breasts. Bodies slide together. As our bodies merge, the boundaries between us melt away. We are vulnerable.
Intense emotions swirl through the sexual experience. Are we powerful or powerless? Loved or used? Good or bad? The selves we bring into sex—our values, our upbringing, our history—will shape the experience. If we’re not attentive, the ramifications of having sex could change the course of our lives—pregnancy, sexually transmitted infections, emotional trauma. We could also be filled with desire, thrilled by pleasure, deeply connected to another person, and empowered by the beautiful strength of our own bodies.
Navigating this complexity isn’t easy, especially in a world where we are bombarded with mixed messages about sex: Do as I say. Be quiet. Do what I did. Stay pure. Be sexy. Make others happy. Do the right thing. I wrote this book to start a different kind of conversation. I asked smart, honest women to share their stories about first sexual experiences.
The V-Word is not a how-to manual, urging you to run out and have sex. Nor is it supposed to scare you into abstinence. Rather, we hope that it will convince you to think broadly about the many ways women can express and respect the sexual side of themselves.
If you decide to become sexually active, I urge you to get informed by visiting websites like Scarleteen.com and reading books like S-E-X: The All-You-Need-To-Know Progressive Sexuality Guide to Get You through High School and College by Heather Corinna. At the end of this book you’ll find many resources, including more books and websites.
And if you decide to wait, that’s okay too.
All the experiences in The V-Word really happened. Names and identifying details have been changed but besides that every story within these pages is true or at least as true as memory can make them. We write about straight sex and queer sex. We write about diving in and about waiting. Some of our first times were exhilarating, others disappointing, some surprising. Some happened too soon, others at exactly the right moment. But no matter the specifics of the situation, our first times stayed with us.
We don’t intend to tell you what to do. Instead, we share our own truths and leave your choices in your own capable hands. We don’t think sex is dirty or shameful or immoral, but it’s not insignificant either. Every first time, and there are many, is something to linger over. There’s no need to rush. Good sex is ripe with giving and receiving, with mutual desire and respect. It can be a force for good in the universe and in our own lives.
The opposite of virgin turns out to be a vast world of possible experiences, a lifetime of getting to know our sexual selves and sharing them with others.
It’s not all or nothing.
It’s not a direct line.
It’s a journey.
And along the way women have discovered that there is a V-word far more powerful than virginity—VOICE.
Whether you say yes or no to sexual experiences, finding your voice—and using it—is the most important part of becoming the person you want to be.