An Object of Pleasure

At a young age, I perceived that my looks were not good enough, my intelligence was not desired, and my quiet personality left me invisible. It did not seem like anyone would ever want me—that any boy would ever like me. I was left wondering what it was I could offer that would make me accepted.

At nine-years-old, I became addicted to pornography and internet chat rooms. It seemed that I had found my answer—as a woman, I was meant to please men sexually. I was able to break the addiction after a couple years, but my mindset had already been altered. I fought against it with good intentions, but the enemy fought back more forcefully.

Within a year of striving for goodness, an innocent prank went wrong—photos taken of me in my underwear were passed around some boys at a party. I was 12. Not too much longer after that, I was receiving requests for “favors” from boys I hardly knew. I am so grateful that I did not consent, but I wish it had been for the right reasons. I refused to take my shirt off because I was self-conscious, not because I respected my body. I denied a request for fellatio, not because it seemed degrading or is against the true nature of sex, but because I was embarrassed to admit I did not know what “head” meant. Any attention I received seemed to expand my emptiness, leaving me feeling inadequate rather than desired.

A lot of it was just talk, but harassments started to become more physical going into high school—even from complete strangers. Whether it was stroking my face during class while feeding me a line about doing something vulgar to me, or pressing up behind me at a dance, it seemed to be confirmed—I was an object for man’s pleasure. After breaking my spine and pelvis in a near-fatal car accident at 16, instead of concerns for my well-being, I received comments regarding how capable I was of sexual behavior. I did not even question my skewed mindset—it seemed so obviously true.

During senior year, my high school chaplain introduced our class to Saint John Paul II’s “Theology of the Body,” and my heart was pierced. Discovering the true, good, and beautiful nature of human sexuality led to an incredible strengthening of my faith. I learned that, as God’s children, we have inherent dignity in Him, and we are created as gifts. The concept of objectification, viewing or treating another as merely an object, was unmistakably against our dignity, and it sickened me. I felt a lot of shame for my history of pornography, but somehow failed to connect how I was personally objectified by men so frequently.

The summer following high school graduation, I traveled on a pilgrimage to Italy. As I walked through a piazza in Rome, a man bluntly asked me for sex. I declined and shrugged it off, but the girls around me were appalled. Our priest (high school chaplain) overheard their reactions and became outraged, asking which man had done it. He turned back around to reproach the man for his unacceptable behavior, and I have never felt more valued. That was the first time I can recall anyone standing up for my dignity—it was the first time I considered that I might have even had one—that maybe what we had learned about in class applied to me, too.

It did not take long for that wonder to be dissolved. Just a few days later, we found ourselves on a crowded bus. A man began rubbing against me from behind, and I tried to move away, but he kept following me closer. I could have easily tapped on the priest’s shoulder to get his attention, or asked the guy in front of me to switch places, but I did not think I was worth it, so I just stood there enduring the discomfort.

A couple years later, I overheard a conversation about modesty. A young man was expressing his appreciation for women who are pure in their behavior and clothing choices. I realized that he had a really great point—we are in this together—and I did not want to tempt another to sin. I made some adjustments to my lifestyle and wardrobe, striving to honor the men around me, as well as my own supposed dignity. Even though the changes required were not that drastic, I thought it would solve everything. Wrong again. Though it might have helped, wearing cardigans and avoiding 10 pm walks across campus to get cereal did not prevent me from being objectified.

I soon discovered drawings from different male classmates of me without clothes or in suggestive positions. Even though I was striving to be a model of the virtue of chastity, I felt like I was seen by others as walking pornography. It did not seem to matter what I did. A young man kissed me, and I told him no. He responded that I was not supposed to talk—that my breath was cold—and then he kissed me again. If one did something to me that he should not have, even if I tried to get him to stop, he told me it was my fault it happened. Eventually, I gave up. When I would express that I did not enjoy what was done to me, I was told there was something wrong with me for not experiencing pleasure.

Perhaps not surprising, I developed a fear of men. By the time I encountered men who respected me, it was confusing. A man choosing the good—a true act of love—felt like rejection. I found myself desiring what I did not really want, still persuaded by the lie of being an object for man’s pleasure. This led me to distrust myself as well, not knowing if I was capable of being loved and honored, convinced that I was undeserving.

Through the course of my healing process, the Lord has asked me to pass on a message to all women: Your beauty is outside of yourself. It is not dependent on your physical appearance—it is not measured by how you are treated—it is not based on your perception of yourself—it is not diminished by your actions—it is solely in Christ. He is your Beauty. It truly does not matter what you have done, or what has been done to you—He Loves you—infinitely. You are His daughter, and you are Beautiful. You are worthy of honor and respect, because your dignity lies in Him—and He sees you as worthy. Allow Him to be your Father. Allow Him to protect you, and to show you your worth when others do not recognize it. Be pure, as He calls you to be pure, for you are worth far more than any stain of deceit.

And to the men, I thank those of you who tirelessly defend our honor and fight for the sake of our dignity. Your worth also lies only in the Father. Pursue Him, and you will discover when and where you are called to go. Please, do not give up—persevere until the end. We need you to be the men you have been created to be, and we will also strive to be the women God has created us to be.

I believe that there is always more room for healing and growth, but I have come to a place of confidence in Our Father. This did not happen in an instant, but took years of persevering through lies, tears, wounds, and attacks. He has given me a promise, and I will settle for nothing less. I encourage you, also, to go to Him to find your beauty, dignity, and worth. I cannot give you peace, but He can show you the way. You will never be satisfied in the desires of the flesh, but only in His Spirit.