Tuesday, April 9, 2024

The Great Sex Rescue: Pain

Image text: "El Roi, The God Who Sees." Image source.

Links to all posts in this series can be found here: Blog series on "The Great Sex Rescue"

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[content note: sexual coercion, pain, spiritual abuse]

We are still in chapter 10 of The Great Sex Rescue: The Lies You've Been Taught and How to Recover What God Intended [affiliate link]. I've decided to divide this chapter into 3 parts. This post will cover the second part, pages 187-196. 

We're still in the chapter on being coerced into sex. This section is about when women experience pain during sex (typically from vaginismus) but feel they are forced to have sex anyway. (Usually it's not their husbands forcing them- usually the husband doesn't realize how bad it is for his wife. It's the ideology that these women were taught about Christianity and marriage, which is forcing them to have painful sex.) This is really bad, because as a woman continues to have sex despite the pain, psychologically she will associate pain with sex, and that will make her body even more resistant to having sex, which will make it more painful, and so on. 

Here are the statistics that "The Great Sex Rescue" presents about women's sexual pain:

And we found that sexual pain is very widespread in the Christian community. As we first discussed in chapter 3, 32.3% of women have experienced sexual pain. When we break it down,

  • 26.7% of women have experienced postpartum sexual pain.
  • 22.6% of women have experienced vaginismus or some other form of primary sexual dysfunction that makes penetration painful.
  • Overall, 6.8% of women have had such bad sexual pain that penetration was impossible.

As we have stated before, but we must reiterate, it's long been known that sexual pain rates (unrelated to childbirth) are higher in the Christian community.

Yeah. I used to have vaginismus. And what "The Great Sex Rescue" is saying in this section is very true- Christian marriage resources tell wives they need to have sex anyway, and so, that's what Christian women do, despite being in terrible pain. Which just makes the situation worse.

And then there's this comparison with abuse:

When women believe before they are married the message that a wife is obligated to give her husband sex when he wants it, vaginismus/dyspareunia rates go up by 37%. To understand the gravity of this, 37% is only barely statistically different from the effect we found of abuse on vaginismus/dyspareunia. Our bodies interpret the obligation-sex message in similar ways to trauma, likely because obligation sex and trauma have so much in common. Both say, "What you need doesn't matter." Both say, "Others can use you without your consent." Both say, "You are unimportant." What often makes this even worse for Christian women is that we feel like God condones our pain because we're told the Bible says we can't say no. When we feel unseen, unimportant, and used, not just by our husbands but also by God, that causes trauma. It feels threatening on a subconscious level, so the body freezes in order to protect itself-- in a way that says, "Keep out!"

I'm not sure their conclusion about the statistics is right- the footnote says the odds ratio for abuse is 1.60 (ie, women who have been abused are 1.60 times more likely to have vaginismus/dyspareunia) with a confidence interval of 1.49-1.72, and the odds ratio for obligation sex is 1.37 (ie, women who believe that wives are obligated to have unwanted sex with their husbands are 1.37 times more likely to have vaginismus/dyspareunia) with a confidence interval of 1.26-1.48. The book says that because these confidence intervals overlap, they are "only barely statistically different." But I'm looking at these numbers and, uh, these don't overlap??? 1.48 is smaller than 1.49........ right......? Is this a mistake in how the authors are analyzing their data, or is this something I'm not understanding about confidence intervals?

So I *don't* think the effect of the obligation-sex message is as bad as abuse (in terms of how likely it is to lead to vaginismus and other sexual pain problems), but I do agree that there are similarities. The idea that someone else can use your body, and what you want doesn't matter. That's... yeah that's more or less what Christian marriage resources tell women. It fits right in with evangelical Christian anti-self ideology, where it's "selfish" and sinful to want things, or to expect that people should treat you right.

Continuing on in "The Great Sex Rescue":

Think of the implications of this for a moment: believing this obligation-sex message makes women more vulnerable to sexual pain, but if they believe this message, they're also more likely to force themselves to muscle through. Forcing themselves to have frequent, painful sex makes treatment so much more difficult because it strengthens the association between sex and pain. Indeed, the group most likely to suffer from vaginismus is women who are pushing themselves to have sex despite not ever orgasming and not feeling close to their husbands. These women are twice (2.02 times) as likely to have vaginismus than other women who are married and are actively having sex. 

This is spot-on.

Next, the book mentions Deborah Feldman's autobiography "Unorthodox", which is about her background as a Jewish woman, her arranged marriage, and experiencing incredibly painful vaginismus when trying to have sex with her husband:

The Netflix series based on the book depicts the heartbreaking scene when they finally manage penetration. Covering her mouth with her hand, she grits her teeth and cries through the ordeal. Afterward, he rolls over and declares how amazing it felt. 

No one should ever take pleasure in something that causes another pain. That causes trauma, and it reinforces trauma already present. 

Yeah... I have to say, based on my background being a good Christian girl who read all those books on marriage, I wouldn't have known this "gritting your teeth through the pain while having sex" was a sign that something was wrong. I definitely didn't know that "No one should ever take pleasure in something that causes another pain." No, Christian marriage resources teach the EXACT OPPOSITE: They teach that love means sacrificing yourself for your husband. They teach that life/ marriage/ the Christian lifestyle is full of situations where you don't want to do something, but you have to do it anyway because it's the right thing to do. (Doing laundry! Waking up in the middle of the night to take care of your baby! Going to work!) And yes, they directly say that sex is one of those situations.

Those books also said that even if sex is painful, wives have to do it anyway. They said it's not that bad, it doesn't take that long. They said it's so important for men, surely you can endure a few minutes of pain for your husband's sake. And I believed that, and that's the perspective I was coming from when I started having sex.

It's good that "The Great Sex Rescue" is calling out how harmful this is.

Here's another thing "The Great Sex Rescue" says in this section:

While the go-to treatment for sexual pain is pelvic floor physiotherapy-- which we highly recommend-- what our survey results tell us is that it's not only pelvic floor physiotherapy that we need. If rates of sexual pain are higher when people believe certain things, then part of the treatment has to be challenging those beliefs.

This is a good point! I have written before about how I'm glad I didn't get treatment from a doctor for vaginismus, because the doctor would have been coming from the perspective of "I need to change my body to fit my heteronormative role and be good enough for my husband" and that was really NOT what I needed. What I needed was information about asexuality and queerness, so I'm glad that's what I found, instead of going to a doctor for treatment. (But if your situation is different, and you *do* know what you need, and you feel that treatment from a doctor could be a useful resource for you in accomplishing your goals, then yeah go ahead and do that.)

The authors of "The Great Sex Rescue" are saying that pelvic floor therapy by itself isn't enough- women also need to challenge and reject the ideology they've internalized about being obligated to have unwanted sex. Yes! I agree with this! However, I kind of side-eye it, because "The Great Sex Rescue" said in chapter 8 that if you have vaginismus, you are obligated to get treatment for it, and you are obligated to fix the problem so that you can have PIV [penis-in-vagina] sex with your husband like you're supposed to. So, even though they say that wives shouldn't be forced to have painful sex, they still say that in the long run, you can't just not consent to PIV forever. I very much disagree with this.

So... authors of "The Great Sex Rescue" are talking about changing from the belief "I have to have PIV sex with my husband whenever he wants it" to "in the long-term, I need to get to a place where I'm able to have PIV sex with my husband (not 'whenever he wants it'- I can say no sometimes- but it should at least be fairly frequent), but right now since it's painful I don't have to consent to it."

Or, okay let me frame this in a more charitable way, maybe it's more like, changing from the belief "my husband has the right to use me for sex whenever he wants, even if it's painful for me and I don't want it" to "my husband genuinely cares about how I feel, and he definitely doesn't want to push me into having sex which I don't want."

And, okay, that still is a meaningful change, so maybe I shouldn't be so negative toward what "The Great Sex Rescue" is saying here. And in my own life, I never even was able to believe that I'm allowed to just never consent to PIV, as a straight-married woman. So. Not sure how much I'm really able to advocate for that.

For me, this change from believing "my husband can use me" to "my husband cares about how I feel" happened when I was pregnant. I felt so sick all the time, I couldn't stand the thought of anyone touching me, let alone having sex. It was the first time I just totally refused, the first time I was too sick to be guilted into it by thoughts of "but men need it"/ "I'm not a good wife"/ etc. And my husband was totally fine with that. And he was actually even more loving and affectionate than before- because I was so sick, and so he was doing a bunch of extra things to take care of me. I was so shocked, because Christians had taught me that a husband is just not capable of being a decent human being toward his wife, if she is not giving him enough sex. Turns out men are capable of being better than that- and should be held to that standard.

So yes, I agree it's not just pelvic floor therapy that's needed- it's also about changing one's beliefs about what sex is and who it's for and what your obligations are. For me, finding out about asexuality and queerness was much MORE important than the physical aspects of treating vaginismus, and that's why I keep saying I'm glad I didn't get treatment from a doctor. If I had, I still would have been caught in this "I have to change my body so I can have sex correctly because men need it, otherwise I'm failing at being a good wife" ideology. And even if the treatment had "worked" and I was able to have PIV sex, I still would have had no idea about how my own body works, or that sex should be about what I want and should feel good for me, or that me and my partner should be equals, rather than only me being required to make sure sex is good enough for him to meet his "needs." 

It would have given me nothing more than a shaky hope that maybe now I'm good enough for him. Instead, asexuality gave me confidence. I know what I want, and I know what I don't want, and I absolutely should expect my partner to care about that.

Basically, I agree with "The Great Sex Rescue" when it says that it's not just the pelvic floor therapy that's needed, but you also need to challenge those beliefs about obligation sex. But I disagree about where we end up after challenging them.

Next, "The Great Sex Rescue" talks about the story of Hagar from the bible. The short version is: God promised Abraham that he would have a son, but he and his wife Sarah were unable to have children. So Sarah said Abraham should take Hagar (who was Sarah's slave) and get Hagar pregnant. They did that, and Hagar had a son named Ishmael. Later, Sarah got pregnant and had a son named Isaac, and there was *drama* between Hagar/Ishmael and Sarah/Isaac. 

Anyway, the part that's highlighted in this book is this, which happens when Hagar is pregnant, and Sarah is jealous and mistreats her, and sends Hagar into the desert:

While she is in the desert, God provides for her. And here's where things get interesting. Hagar is the first person in Scripture who is given the honor of bestowing a name upon God. And the name she chooses? "The God who sees me." After being sexually assaulted, forced to carry a baby, and then abandoned, never having her needs or wishes taken into account, being invisible and used to meet other people's needs, God sees her.

And being seen makes all the difference.

God sees women. God does not say to women, "Your experience doesn't matter compared to your husband's tremendous need." God does not tell women, "Let your husband ejaculate inside you, no matter how you feel, because otherwise you are in disobedience." No, God says, "I designed sex to be a deep knowing of two people. And that, my child, means that both of you matter."

If we were to talk about sex like that, we believe there would be fewer cases of vaginismus. We believe fewer women would give up on sex because it's so emotionally damaging. We believe more women would be excited about sex, enjoy sex, and feel freedom in the bedroom.

Love this take on the story of Hagar. Anytime someone wants to read the story of Hagar and care about how she felt, rather than just seeing her as a mistake that Bible Hero Abraham made as he struggled to trust in God's promise, I am SO HERE FOR IT.

And... yeah, this stuff about God not wanting women to be used... this really is different from what I was taught by evangelicals. The idea that God does not want people to mistreat you- I mean, whoa, no, I don't think I heard that in the evangelical church. Instead it was about how we should continue to trust God, even through suffering, even when people mistreat us- and eventually God will use those bad experiences for good, and suffering will bring us closer to God and make us better people.

(Or, rather, it *is* true that when evangelicals are talking about human trafficking victims, for example, they say "God's heart breaks for them." So, when it's some big societal problem that's so terrible we can't relate to it at all, and we view the victims as one-dimensional beacons of innocence rather than actual people, *then* we believe that God doesn't want them to be mistreated. But when something bad happens to you personally, then it's "part of God's plan" and "God will use it for good" and all that.)

So yes, I believe that God sees us. This is what I believe about incarnation: that when we feel pain, God feels it too. Whatever emotions we feel, They feel too. God is with us.

All right, one last thing from this section of "The Great Sex Rescue": The authors say that perhaps at this point, some readers may be concerned that if women aren't taught this "obligation sex" message, then they will have sex less, and oh wouldn't that be so terrible for their poor husbands. And, yes, statistically it is true that wives who believe they are required to have unwanted sex do have sex more frequently than wives who believe in consent.

Here's how "The Great Sex Rescue" responds to this concern:

The fear that men may not have as much sex as they want should not supersede women's need to feel safe.

Yes. Exactly.

In summary: This section of the book is about sexual pain, and how the "obligation sex" message makes things worse, because as women continue to force themselves to have painful sex, their bodies will resist more and more, and it becomes an even worse and more painful experience. Yes, that makes a lot of sense. Unfortunately, there are a lot of Christian leaders out there explicitly telling wives that they need to have sex even if it's painful. The farther I get from that ideology, the more I see how messed-up it is.

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A footnote here about the idea that eventually you have to consent to sex: It brings to mind this post from Queenie, Mapping the grey area of sexual experience: consent, compulsory sexuality, and sex normativity.

When I first started dating, I made a list of all the reasons I shouldn’t have sex with my boyfriend.  I hadn’t known him long enough (I figured I had to wait at least a year).  I was underage (and he was over 18).  I didn’t have access to birth control.  The list went on and on, but nowhere on the list was “I genuinely do not want to have sex with him.”  Spoiler alert: I genuinely did not want to have sex with him.  But that wasn’t good enough! “I don’t want to” wasn’t a reason not to have sex, because everyone wants to have sex under the proper conditions.  I could say no if I wasn’t ready, but there would come a day when the stars would align and all my necessary conditions would be met and I would be ready.  I was terrified of that inevitable star alignment, because I knew that when it happened I would have to have sex.  Unfortunately, this particularly story ended in trauma, but I’m sure there is some alternate universe out there where I broke down and consented to sex I genuinely did not want because I couldn’t think of a “real” reason to say no.

As an asexual, I feel it's very important to say this: Yes, you do have the right to just NEVER CONSENT TO SEX, even if you're dating, even if you're married. 

This should definitely be something you discuss before marriage. Not cool if you just suddenly tell your partner it's never going to happen, after you've been together for a long time. But also, there are asexuals who only figure out they're asexual *after* getting married. (In my case, I was not able to figure out I was asexual until after I had had sex- fortunately, I had sex before marriage.) This is really not ideal, but if it happens, both people should be treated like they are equally important, rather than the ace partner being treated like they're the one who needs to change. And it may be the case that because of it, they're not compatible and they end up breaking up. And I realize that the possibility of it being a dealbreaker is inherently coercive... even though their partner is not standing there saying directly "if you don't have sex with me, I'll break up with you," that is the reality of it. So... it's tricky for me to say "you have the right to not consent to sex FOREVER" because I can't tell you "you have the right to not consent to sex FOREVER and the relationship will just keep on going the way you want it" because that is very much NOT TRUE.

Anyway, my point is, I don't like the way "The Great Sex Rescue" says that the partner who is experiencing painful sex is REQUIRED to get treatment for it. No, there's another option: Never have PIV sex. Yes, I know this is not ideal, because their partner is likely not a fan of the idea of never having PIV sex- but that should not be treated as *more important* than the pain and inconvenience of getting treatment for vaginismus. I'm not saying it's what you *should* do, but it should definitely at least be considered as an option.

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Links to all posts in this series can be found here: Blog series on "The Great Sex Rescue"

Related:

The Great Sex Rescue: Wives Are the Ones Being "Deprived"

He Just Loves Me (a post about Sex, Pregnancy, and My "Wifely Duty") 

How Pregnancy and Childbirth Changed My Asexuality (or, actually, A Post About Vaginismus)

Vaginismus Is Not A Problem, In And Of Itself

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