by Jill Morrison, Senior Counsel
National Women’s Law Center
So, the New York Times Magazine covered this year's “Purity Ball.” In case you haven’t heard these are ceremonies where daughters commit their virginity to their fathers. (Pause here to wretch.) Never mind the stats that say that teens who sign abstinence pledges are less likely to use contraception when they start having sex (and yes, they do have sex — pledge be darned) or the study that found that teens who take virginity pledges are more likely to engage in oral or anal sex.
Furthermore, as Julia points out, these events reek of patriarchy. The host of the ball told the fathers that “They [their daughters] need to be rescued by you, their dad.” Abstinence-only programs (funded with your tax dollars) only reinforce these messages. One curriculum used by seven federal grantees teaches: “The father gives the bride to the groom because he is the one man who has had the responsibility of protecting her throughout her life. He is now giving his daughter to the only other man who will take over this protective role.” (See this report of the U.S. House Committee on Government Reform for more examples of this type of not-even-discreet sexism).
But most importantly, what does it say to a girl when she is told that her value to her father is in her virginity?
I was blessed with two dads. No silly, not in the recent California-marriage-equity case-way, but in the old fashioned way. My father and stepfather have always made me feel treasured. My stepfather Jo Jo (who died last year) was embarrassingly proud of me and my dad absolutely lights up when he sees me (okay, it kind of helps that I look just like him). My worth to them had and has nothing whatsoever to do with my sexual activity (or lack thereof). They value me for many reasons, among them, because I can: grow a massive houseplant from a tiny clipping (Dad); bait a hook and reel a Virginia Spot in all by myself (Jo Jo); pick great Fathers' Day gifts (both); make a cogent argument that Weatherspoon was the best point guard of all time (Dad); fix a busted toilet (Jo Jo); and feed, clothe and shelter myself without their assistance (both).
Mostly, they value and valued watching me use the lessons they taught me to make good decisions and recover from bad ones. Okay, now I’m all teary-eyed. ... Don’t wait for Fathers' Day. If you are able, go and call/hug/text/email your dad right now and thank him for valuing you for who you are.
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