Virginity

  This is an essay I wrote for my self-picked topic for Speech & Debate. Enjoy, and comment!

Those of us who grew up in the 80’s—or even just those of us who can recognize good music—are probably familiar with the artist Madonna and some of her timeless songs. One of which are titled ‘Like A Virgin’. I’m sure many of you all have heard it, and the lyrics can immediately come to your mind… “Like a Virgin/ Touched for the very first time”. Now, when listening to this song, not much thought is given to what she is saying, but it is something that is actually a rather peculiar thing—the idea of being a virgin. Now, apparently, the general consensus of what it means to be a virgin is to have not engaged in vaginal intercourse. But is that really what it is? Have you ever pondered on the idea that “virginity” isn’t really a state of being, but more so just a concept that was conjured up, solely for the purpose of further dividing our societies? The position that I am presenting about this topic is one that is based on the notions that “virginity” is not something that can be physically determined, that the presence of homosexuals and born-again Christians nullifies this idea, and that the occurrence of rapes in our societies further complicates this idea.

       I want to return back to the widely-accepted definition of virginity. According to the Merriam-Webster online dictionary, one who is a virgin is “a person who has not engaged in sexual intercourse”. And the first definition under “sexual intercourse” is “heterosexual intercourse involving the penetration of the vagina by the penis”. Seems pretty accurate, right? But let’s take a closer look in on this term, from a more medical point of view. This definition did not specify that these terms are gender-specific. But it also tends to be a widely-accepted detail that men are neither virgins or non-virgins, mainly due to the fact that it really just can’t be determined whether or not a male is a virgin or not. Whether a male has had zero or twenty acts of sexual intercourse, there is no physical difference in their anatomy. So doesn’t that in itself prove the definition to be wrong?

       But we should also look at this from the other side of the spectrum. Many people say that the reason females are virgins is due to the hymen; a thin piece of tissue that partially blocks the entrance of the vagina. During sexual intercourse, this piece of flesh is broken, and BAM! No more virginity! But is it really that simple? Let’s think about it. The reason that the hymen is broken is mainly due to vigorous activity that causes it to “pop”. However, the terms of this “vigorous activity” is not exclusive to sex; it is a common occurrence in the activities of horseback-riding or cycling for a girl’s hymen to be broken. Adding more support to this argument is the fact that the hymen is not 100% guaranteed to break during sex. There have even been accounts of women’s hymens being intact after giving birth. These facts prove that “virginity” cannot be physically measured. So since it isn’t based on human anatomy, what is it?

       Although many people refuse to accept it, it is a fact that we have homosexuals in our societies. This really is not a new idea, though; this type of sexuality has been recorded to be present in ancient societies dating back to the BC era. What is so radically different about it is that in modern times, people are being open about it, and demonstrate gay pride, almost to the point that homosexuality could be considered somewhat mainstreamed. Just for a little context, homosexual relationships exist between people of the same gender—so a man with a man, and a woman with a woman. Although this sexual status tends to be a very wish-washy topic, one thing is clear: these types of relationships do not fit in nicely with this idea of virginity. According the definitions that I mentioned before, not only can homosexuals not lose their virginities, but they also do not even have legitimate sex. Since, for humans, sex is not only engaged in for reproductive purposes, but also to demonstrate the extent of love for one’s partner, it is understandable why many homosexuals would be appalled, and maybe even somewhat angered at the idea that they are all, according to a mere definition, still virgins.

       The same kind of situation exists with born-again Christians. These are individuals have gone through a process in which they renew their commitment to their faith, and are forgiven for all their sins. One of such sins being engaging in sex outside of wedlock, these individuals are forgiven for their acts, and claim the title as a “born-again virgin”. But wait; this doesn’t seem like a valid status, since they clearly are not virgins according to the definition, right? We again run into the problem with this word; these individuals don’t fit in the definition. I mean, what jurisdiction does this man-made definition have to tell someone that they are not something that they are accepted as in the eyes of their religious deity?

       In our societies, this concept of virginity is often used as a way to divide people into groups in order to make it easier to discriminate against one another. For instance, in middle schools, a common situation is one in which students who are no longer “virgins” are made fun of and called harsh names. Taking such situation into account, it is understandable why being a child whom has been sexually assaulted may be one of the biggest contradictions to the definition of virginity. Not only would this child have to forever live with whatever traumatic reprecautions would result from the attack, but they also have to face being labeled by terms such as “whore” and “slut” for an event that was completely out of their control. It is also an understandable situation in which sexual assault victims would still consider themselves virgins, even if what happened to them fits the definition of sexual intercourse. Who would anyone be to tell these children, “Nope, you can’t do that. What happened to you is considered sex; so you’re not a virgin.” This proves that as long as rapes and sexual assaults still occur in our world, the idea of “virginity” will remain a skewed one.

       So hear me out. Based on the evidence that I’ve provided, this concept of “virginity” is starting to seem more and more questionable, wouldn’t you agree? Between having no physiology to back up its definition to being somewhat incorrect when controversial yet realistic individuals of our societies are taken into context, this term and its accompanying definition are subject to face some serious heat concerning its validity. I’m not trying to push the definition of this word one way or another; I’m just seeking to raise awareness on the fact that it is definitely lacking on some stage or another. Don’t get me wrong; Madonna is a phenomenal artist. But with this knowledge, maybe I can let you all know that this word, like many others in our language, shouldn’t be mainstreamed in our societies as it is, considering it’s flawed definition. But don’t worry; I don’t consider it in the slightest sense wrong to keep blasting that jam, because, let’s face it: there’s nothing wrong with a song that makes us all feel a little bit more “shiny and new” after hearing it.

Short Story: Dethroned

  I could still hear the clamor of the party in the distance, even though I had walked a good distance away by now.
  With my shoes in hand, and my party dress now wrinkled and slightly ripped, I hobbled my way through the night, making sure to take a route through the neighborhood that housed the elderly couples, so I wouldn't be seen by any adults driving home.
  I didn't want to be seen by anyone. I didn't feel worthy of being looked at. When I left home earlier today, I felt like I was on top of the world, and I was. Now, I couldn't imagine ever being lower than how I currently feel.

(*Flashback*)

  I emerged in the house with my group of "friends", and the clusters of people that was already there cheered. Everyone was trying to speak with me; I was getting compliments about my hair, questions on where I bought my low-cut dress, and snide sexual remarks from the guys. I also heard the audible negative chatter from the crowd: "The slut has arrived."; "Of course, she couldn't have worn a shorter dress."; "Let's see how many dicks she'll fit in her mouth this time."
  However, I ignored all the comments, whether they were negative or positive. Contrary to popular belief, I was actually still a virgin, and never even had a boyfriend. But, as I had learned, such rumors came with the territory, and there would never be anything I could do to stop it. By now, it was just second nature to disregard everything people said about me.
  I navigated through the house and met up with the other girls in the kitchen. We exchanged our popular greeting with each other--"Wuddup, BITCH"--and kissed each other on the cheeks.
  One of the girls handed me a cup. "Drink up, you're not gonna wanna remember this one," she slurred to me with a giggle.
  Of course, there has to be alcohol here, I thought. I wasn't really much of a drinker, really, but it's not like I could turn down the drink; I had an image to keep up. So I plastered on my oh-so-common fake smile and sipped from the cup, just slightly, though.
  The owner of the house approached me.
  "So, uh, you were able to make it out?" he said to me slowly. I could tell that he had ingested some form of marijuana already tonight.
  "Yeah, great party," I replied.
  "You, uh, you know my friend Kevin, right."
  He jerked his head over his shoulder towards the guy behind him. I was pretty sure it wasn't a question, but I looked at the guy and said, "Uh, yeah, I've seen him around."
  "So, uh, what do you think of him, you know?"
  I still had my plastic smile on. "He's cute."
  I assumed he was satisfied with this answer, because he then walked off. Kevin made eye contact with me, before following him.
  Everyone that walked by said something to us, with the females trying to replicate our persona, and the males trying to get our attention (although theirs remained below our waists).
  I was used to these situations, so I just blocked them out, as usual. I wasn't even drunk, but everything was basically a haze. I did notice one girl who was resting in the corner, sitting next to the snack table. I looked at her a little closer, and realized I recognized her. My mother and her mother worked in the same field together, and were well acquainted. She caught me looking at her, which I turned away from her and let out a false laugh at the conversation that was going on around me.
  A pang of guilt hit me in the stomach. Not only are our mothers friends, but we also used to be fairly close. It was upon our entrance to high school that we parted ways--I started wearing make-up and push-up bras, and associating with the upperclassmen, while she stayed close with our orchestra buddies, and still wore her hair in ponytails. What made it even worse it that numerous times, I had openly bashed her, along with many other people I used to associate with.
  I stole another look at her. She was still looking at me, so this time, I didn't bother to look away. She was wearing a simple fashion top, a pencil skirt and a pair of flats, with her hair straightened and let down to cover her shoulders. I was actually surprised to see her look like that, because it had been such a long time since I could bring myself to take a good look at her. At this point, we were still looking at each other, so I figured I should say something to her. I snuck away from the group I was standing with, and took the seat next to her.
  "Hey," I said to her uneasily.
  To my surprise, she looked at me warmly, and said, "Hey." I wasn't expecting her to be so friendly to me, considering all that happened between us the past couple of years.
  But there was also concern in her eyes. "How have you been?" she asked in a low voice.
  It was obvious what she was talking about, but I maintained my plastic smile. "Yeah, of course! I've been fine! You look so good!"
  She didn't return the compliment. She looked down at the cup I was holding. "Should you really be drinking that stuff?"
  Again, I let out a fake laugh. "Oh, it's nothing, really." We both knew this to be a lie.
  Bethany put her hand on my bare leg. "Nicole, if you ever need to talk about things with someone..." She let her voice trail off.
  At that moment, a girl I was slightly acquainted with pulled me up by the arm and said, "Come on Nicole, you haven't even been upstairs yet!"
  As I was being pulled away, I took another look back at Bethany. She was still sitting there, with an unsettling expression on her face. But she said nothing, and I was led away from the kitchen to the second level of the house.
  The hallways were filled with hazy smoke, that reeked of burning paper and water. When I turned around, the girl who I had arrived upstairs with had disappeared. There were people leaning along the walls all the way down the length of the hall, which I had to squeeze past. As I got further down the hall, there were more couples lining the walls, exploring each others body cavities. I peered into a door stationed on the left of the hall, where the smoke was pouring out from. The fog was thick, but I could vaguely make out numerous figures surrounding a table, and more bodies along the walls and on the furniture.
  I could feel myself getting lightheaded from the haze so I turned away and continued down the hallway. I turned left, and, just where the hallway was ending, I spotted another door cracked open. Without hesitating I rushed into it.
  It opened up to a small room: too small to be a bedroom, yet too big to be a closet. There was a couch and a coffee table, with a small candle lit on it. I was amazed to see that no bodies were horizontally positioned on the couch, and took a seat. My eyes still burned from the smoke, so I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.
  The next thing I knew, I felt an arm wrap around my waist and draw me towards the center of the couch. I opened my eyes with a startle, and before I could say anything, a pair of lips collided into mine.
  I jumped away, but the arm pulled me back in towards the person.
  "Where you going," a male voice said. He planted his lips on mine again.
  I placed my hands on his chest, pushing him away.
  "What do you think you're doing?" I croaked. "Get off--"
  "Come on, you know you want to."
  Then he slipped a hand up my dress. I tried to scream, but it came out as a cracked yelp.
  "I said no," I whispered again, pushing him away harder. He then grabbed my wrists, and moved his hand towards my crotch.
  "Just relax," he said smoothly as he pushed my body backwards onto the couch and laid on top of me.
  At this point, I was paralyzed with fear. He had let go of my hands, but I couldn't move them.
  I then heard metal clinking--like un-doing a belt.
  His other hand was still under my dress, and by now he had pulled my thong down around my thighs.
  "I-I'll scream, I swear," was all I could say in a hoarse voice.
  He snickered and said, "Go ahead. Because everyone will believe what the school whore has to say." He leaned closer to my ear and whispered, "You've been asking for this all night, so shut up and take it."
  The events after that are slightly blurry. I made no noise; I felt nothing. I could hear his grunting the entire time, and felt his heartbeat against my chest.
  It was as if my own heartbeat, however, had disappeared.
  When it was over, all I could do was lay there. I was staring at the ceiling the whole time.
  Before he departed, he stood above me holding a condom.
  "You're welcome," he said, dropping it onto my chest.
  With that, he left the room.
  In that moment where he stood over me, I saw his face for the first time.
  Although the candle flickered back and forth and the light only danced across his face briefly, I was able to immediately identify my attacker.
  It was Kevin.

(*End Flashback*)

  My limbs were still numb with disbelief, but the area between my legs had now began to sting with pain. I stopped at the corner of the street, and slumped down next to the stop sign, grasping onto the base of its metal post.
  Because everyone will believe what the school whore has to say.
  You've been asking for this all night.
  Shut up and take it.
  I kept replaying these words of his in my head. I couldn't tell if he was right...had I been asking to be raped?
  A car pulled up and stopped on the curb next to me. I merely slouched down closer to the ground in an attempt to not be seen.
  When I felt a hand touch my shoulder is when I jumped, and shrieked.
  But I turned to find Bethany's warm eyes looking down at me. "Shh, shh, it's okay. It's just me. No one else."
  At the sight of her warmth, and her kindness, I immediately burst into sobs.
  She sat down next to me and let my head fall into her chest.
  "He-he...he..." was I could say in between sobs.
  But she didn't say anything. She just sat there with me, in the coolness of the night, rocking me back and forth as I cried about the events of the night.