Last week, I wrote a little post–a letter to my future wife–that got a lot of feedback. I have thought much since then about relationships and women. I was honored to be invited to post over at the Good Women Project coming in August … honored and a little nervous. I think highly of what Lauren is accomplishing there, so I don’t want to screw up my post. Trying to narrow down a topic, eventually I realized that I have a lot of thoughts about sex and relationships and dating and women. Why not, it occurred to me, say something regularly? … And here we are. From now on–until you demand otherwise or I burn out–I hope to devote Wednesdays to these themes. We’ll see how it goes. I will offer a disclaimer here and now. I will be raw and honest, this post is no exception. However, the posts will never venture above PG-13. I will not shy away from speaking frankly about things that should be frankly spoken about, but I will seek not to glamorize it or make it lascivious. Good? Excellent. So, without further ado …
There’s a SohoDolls song called “Stripper.” The chorus is simple: Hey, stripper! Hey! I want to be your mister!
I was in eighth grade when a girl flashed her breasts at me. Waiting behind the school at the annexed parking lot for my carpool to show up, I heard my name called out and turned just in time to see a girl in my class that I had a bit of a crush on, lifting up her shirt from across the way, then dropping it quickly while she and her friend giggled hysterically and then ran off, blushing like mad.
I immediately felt two things: intrigue and power.
Intrigue is easy to explain if I simply point out that it’s a stand-in for a different, more specific word as to what happened to my fresh-into-puberty body.
But that wasn’t what really got me, that’s not what coursed through my veins like a free hit of meth, the one that gets you hooked, always wanting more, to pay anything for it. No, intrigue was nothing. Power was the drug. Power was everything. And it was everything ever since. I didn’t even ask her to do that. She just did. That was power.
Hey, stripper! Hey! I want to be your mister!
What most women don’t understand about pornography is that it’s not about sexual fulfillment. It’s not even about rampant hormones or ever about boys being boys. Though those factors are in play in varying degrees, what porn is really about is power.
Being the mister is all about the power.
Porn can’t say no. Porn can’t demand that you respect it. Porn can’t tell you that you aren’t providing for it what it needs. Porn doesn’t have rights. It’s just there. It’s there for you to control how you want.
Is the addiction to the sexual feeling? Not a chance. The addiction is to the power.
And what does this have to do with a girl who flashed me when I was just leaving middle school?
Quite a bit.
A lot of blame gets heaped on guys for not treating women with respect.
To be fair, there are a number of occasions when this is deserved. The system is broken. It is completely ridiculous for youth groups to teach that the only reason girls should dress modestly and keep their purity is for the sake of keeping their fellow, male Christians from stumbling and so that they may be presentable to their future husbands. As if there was no benefit to a girl’s own self worth for dressing like she was loved by her Creator or that God has never called a girl to be celibate. Or, worse, that losing your virginity meant you had no value.
And for the guys, we’re taught that we shouldn’t masturbate or fall into the temptation of lust because Jesus said we shouldn’t. As if the reason we shouldn’t has more to do with our own heart and soul than respecting the rights of the beautiful creation that God has made and, like a certain piece of fruit from a certain tree, isn’t ours to touch unless we have permission. Even if it’s just touched with our eyes and thoughts.
So yeah, when you stack things up, guys rightly take some heat for how we treat women and perceive them, how we’re taught that everything is really about us and our purity.
This needs to change. Desperately.
As men, we need to treat women with the respect they deserve having been created in the image of our God. We need to honor them, to be willing to sacrifice ourselves as Christ sacrificed Himself for the church. We need to edify them. We need to stop falling for the girls who are easy, because that just makes them think that it’s ok and it makes the girls who aren’t feel like that’s who they need to become. We need to demand better of each other, to hold each other accountable not to just keeping from lust but keeping from ever treating a woman like she’s an object.
Frat bros, I’m talking to you. I’m calling you out. That little joke a certain Baylor University, “Christian” fraternity says with glee that the a reason a girl can’t ski is because there’s no ski slope between the bedroom and the kitchen is the biggest piece of chauvinistic, backwoods, ignorant, asinine, pseudo-masculine piece of starts-with-a-b-and-has-two-syllables I have ever heard.
Women are to be valued.
They are to be sought after as daughters of the King.
They aren’t there to serve you a sandwich and bare your many ill-conceived children.
They are there to be crowned. Cherished.
… But I’m asking for a favor from the ladies, because you could maybe help us out a bit, too.
Be a girl worth pursuing.
Dress like a woman who was designed, composed, thought up in the mind of God. A woman who has a Father, even if the only good Father in her life is her Heavenly one. Be beautiful by being faithful. Challenge us as men to desire women of integrity by not settling for jerks; teach us as men to long for women of purity by choosing not to compromise. Stop acting like you think you’re supposed to, some silly, stupid, naive girl who is just eager to please. Stop acting like you want to be a porn star. A thing.
Because when you do, when we watch you do that, debasing yourself, it’s feeding right back into that addiction to power.
Please, help us break the cycle by taking away the drugs. Help us by not enabling our minds to feast on your bodies.
Because this isn’t about keeping us from stumbling. It’s never really been about that.
This is about teaching us to treat you with the respect you deserve. When God made Eve, it was good. And I am pretty sure Adam thought it was very good. But society has completely rejected any notion that a woman’s body is anything more than in chronic need of repair and enhancement or is there to be lusted after. That girl thought it was nothing but a harmless joke, a provocative tease to raise her shirt at me.
Hey, stripper! Hey! I want to be your mister!
And we call this empowerment?
As men, we are not trained in any arena to value you for who you are unless it’s by Godly women who model for us that grace and Godly men who demand it from us.
But we need both sides working to make this happen. It doesn’t happen by a guy waking up one day and seeing a girl dressed like a stripper and thinking to himself, “Oh, what a beautiful creation God has made, I shall now look elsewhere and linger here no longer.” Nope. Not going to happen. That’s not actually living in Christian community. We are called to look after one another, both for the benefits that it brings to us as a group and for the edification it brings to our own souls.
We’re both responsible.
So help us out and do your part. Love yourself for the beautiful creation that you are, because that’s the only way we’ll really learn to love and honor you.
Stop dressing like a stripper. Stop acting like one. Stop letting boys treat you like you’re worthless. Raise your voice.
You’re not worthless. Do you know that? Because it’s not something we can teach you. Only He can.
When you dress like a stripper, you ask to be an object. You receive it as the illusion of power, but really you have none. The young woman in my middle school thought she had enticed me all the more. But what was the point after that? From that point on, I had seen it before. When a girl compromises herself, thinking she has power, she’s just one more body with a face we may or may not pay attention to, because she has already told us how much she’s worth.
I’m pleading with you. Teach us to not think this way. Teach us to see you as a creation.
Hey, stripper! Hey–
Put on some clothes! Be the handmaiden of Christ. Please! Help me learn to be a proper man.
Because I don’t want to be a mister anymore.
I’ll work to the bone to do my part, I’m just asking if you would consider doing yours.
Let’s be free together. Let’s be healed together.
And to all the women who already are, who have been, who have made hard choices, who haven’t had a good relationship, who have been looked over or passed up because you held firm: thank you.
Thank you for faithfulness.
You make me want to be a better man.
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Note: I want to add here at the end that it could be possible to misread sections of this and come away thinking that I imply women who dress somewhat provocatively are responsible if they are assaulted sexually. Having known in my life too many women this has happened to, I assure you that this is not the case. What I have said here is all within the context of basic sexual relationships and sexual tension. The evil that is to violate a woman against her will is a topic I will need to write about later, when I’m not shaking with anger as I try to form words. This post sought to address the two-way street of sexual impurity exclusively.
Also: Is there something you’d like me to talk about here in the weeks ahead? Drop me a comment or an email.
© 2011, Preston. All rights reserved.




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