The Purity Closet: Queerness, Suppression, and the Sacred Work of Coming Out

Here it is—the big moment.

The breakthrough. A moment of clarity that lights up your brain like lightning.

For some, that realization comes like a thunderclap—a sudden wave of attraction that refuses to be ignored. Mine was quieter. It happened in a college gender and sexuality class when my professor casually defined “bisexual” as though it were just… an option. Not a slur. Not a confused in-between. Just a normal, valid identity.

She breezed through the lecture like this was rudimentary information. But for me, it was a tectonic shift. As she kept talking, I sat there breathing through years of shame, hearing—for the first time—my experience named with neutrality. With normalcy.

Up until that moment, queerness had never been normalized in my world. I was raised in a highly religious environment where purity culture was the standard. Sexuality was taught in terms of right and wrong. Righteousness or sin. Straight or damned. Anything outside “righteous heterosexuality” wasn’t just discouraged—it was a threat to your soul.

And bisexuality? That wasn’t even on the radar. It wasn’t presented as an option. It was erased entirely.

That moment in the classroom wasn’t just about learning a new definition. It was the first time I heard sexuality described as a facet of humanness, rather than a moral failing. It was the first time I had permission—even internally—to consider that maybe what I’d always felt wasn’t wrong.

What Is Purity Culture?

Purity culture, especially as taught in conservative religious environments, goes far beyond the slogan “save yourself for marriage.” It’s a system of beliefs that:

• Equates sexual purity with moral value

• Places responsibility for sexual “sin” squarely on the shoulders of those assigned female at birth

• Demonizes any form of sex or desire outside of heterosexual, monogamous marriage

• Encourages strict, binary gender roles

• Polices not just behavior, but thoughts, desires, fantasies, and arousal

  
  

And when all of that is wrapped in the existential threat of eternal damnation?

The stakes of even considering that your desire might fall outside those rigid lines become soul-deep. The moment you allow yourself to acknowledge an internal experience that isn’t sanctioned in Sunday School becomes a freefall—not just because it breaks a rule, but because you’ve been taught it could damage your soul. The cost of curiosity becomes eternal suffering. That is not a small thing.

Queerness in a Context of Shame

All queer people have their own coming-out story. But for those raised in purity culture, coming out can feel less like stepping into the light and more like stepping off a cliff.

The shame runs deep—not just cognitively, but somatically. It’s in the body. It’s in the nervous system. Because these beliefs are often taught from early childhood, they become encoded in the brain before we even have the words to question them. You learn what happens when people deviate from the rules by watching how others are treated—shamed, rejected, punished.

In response, a part of us may begin suppressing queerness before we’re even conscious of it. We learn to identify our queerness as a social threat. Our brains protect us by shielding us from what our bodies already know, and the pressure of purity culture reinforces the need to disconnect. Shame, fear, and anxiety create a kind of smoke screen around desire and attraction—and we find ourselves caught between the quiet pull of our bodies and the social “shoulds” we follow to stay safe.

Even if you eventually come to understand these messages intellectually, your body often still reacts with fear, guilt, or dread.

This is why so many queer people raised in religious environments report a deep sense of spiritual trauma. It’s why so many describe not just hiding from the world, but hiding from themselves: Being so far in the closet, you didn’t even know you were in one.

You Didn’t Choose This.  And You’re Not Broken.

No one chooses who they’re attracted to. Attraction is instinctual. It’s not something you decide, and it’s not something you control.

And when you’re taught that something so innate is not just sinful, but a punishable offense in this life and the next? Anxiety, depression, shame—these aren’t signs that you’re broken. They’re signs that you’ve lived for years in an impossible double bind.

So if you're still in the messy middle of unlearning?

That’s not failure. That’s survival. That’s healing.

Don’t blame your nervous system for reacting the way it was conditioned to. And you don’t need to be angry at yourself for still feeling tangled in shame. Retraining your nervous system—reclaiming your identity with pride, compassion, and curiosity—is possible. And it takes time.

Because here’s the truth that purity culture tried to bury:

Embodying your full, authentic self is not a sin. It’s a sacred act.

When you step into who you are—honestly, courageously, unapologetically—you are honoring the diversity of humanity by honoring the uniqueness of you. You are opening the door to deeper love, fuller connection, and transformative growth.

And what more could we ask of a soul?

Your queerness is not a threat to your soul.

It is evidence of it.