Words: Pearl Kelly (She/Her)
Female celibacy is on the rise; not for the sake of preserving purity but for refusing to have sex on anything but your own terms
When I was 15 I had a sex-ed class which began with the teacher asking: ‘Why do people have sex?’ The answer was unanimous: for pleasure. She agreed. In the sexually liberated 21st century pleasure has been, or was, the primary motivation. This search for pleasure is also practical: sex has long been hailed in art and culture as instrumental to coming of age. Who and what you desire sexually comprises a big part of your identity, shedding light on the rest of what makes you, you.
However, today there is a marked decline in sexual activity. The latest National Survey of Sexual Attitudes and Lifestyles (UK) reveals that 16% of men and 22% of women aged 16-74 are sexually inactive. Sexual psychologist Dr. Justin Lehmiller claims that the majority of this occurs in ‘adults under 25 – often referred to as generation Z.’ What are the reasons for this new trend? And what do they tell us about youth and identity in the 21st century?
In The Rise in Voluntary Celibacy, Emine Sanner suggests several reasons for this decline in sex; the rise of social media and online gaming, an increase in mental health disorders, and the proliferation of “rough” sex instigated by the widespread consumption of pornography. This “rough” turn in porn reflects the current turbulent sexual environment, largely due to the rise of incel culture and the stripping of women’s sexual rights in the West. The overturning of Roe vs Wade in 2022 sanctioned this rise of misogyny and strengthened its online counterpart: “the manosphere”. This culture of anger and frustrated desire finds an outlet in the liminal arena of porn, which exists on the unregulated sidelines of society. The performances in porn channel these feelings and result in aggressive portrayals of sex which, when reflected back into the mainstream, become gradually normalised.
Louise Perry, author of The Case Against the Sexual Revolution argues that porn has had ‘a destructive effect on sexual culture’ because of the networked nature of social relationships. Even if you personally avoid porn enough people consume it that it inevitably changes the culture – resulting, as Perry claims, in a default setting of ‘pornified casual sex.’
This “pornification” of casual sex also accounts for the renewed emphasis on traditional beauty standards. Where aggressive acts like choking are now expected in casual sex, so too are bodies expected to be idealised, airbrushed specimens. With casual sex becoming the dominant mode, it’s no surprise women do not want to be subjected to potentially aggressive or dangerous sexual activity. While cultural and political reasons for a rise in celibacy are clear, I believe this current rejection of sex speaks to a deeper social shift that particularly women are reacting to: the commodification of self.
Humans have been selling themselves for millenia; advertising our personalities and appearances to prospective friends and partners is part of life. However, as social media has transformed our platonic, as well as romantic, interactions, the objective of selling oneself has become essential to social survival.
The “real” social sphere – the one that exists in bars, cafes, etc. – is concerned with how you look, but mostly by what kind of person you are. We all know it doesn’t matter how hot someone is if you don’t get along with them. What we’re really after is a strange laugh, a shy sensitivity, an affinity for card games, or pub quizzes; things we only learn by meeting and knowing people face to face. Now, despite efforts from social media and online dating to accurately convey these unique traits, it falls short; instead remaining overwhelmingly concerned with image.
Social/romantic interaction is now almost inescapably about how you look; conventional beauty standards taking precedence, and everything else following behind. This idealisation of the body (particularly the female body) through social media is the same process of “pornification”, where bodies are expected to be nothing short of perfection.
In recent years it has resulted in the “femcel movement”; women who are rejecting this sexual environment and claiming celibacy. Kaitlyn Tiffany reports: ‘They were finding the modern dating landscape – the image-based apps, the commodified dating “market,” the illusory “freedom” to be found in hookup culture – to be unnavigable.’ The “femcel movement” demonstrates that if you cannot – or will not – conform to the modern dating landscape, the only choice is to remove yourself.
The celibacy practiced by “femcels” is voluntary and outspoken, however many others are opting out of sex unconsciously. Perhaps the most prevalent reason for this is that sex no longer feels personal. The modern dating market is a collection of idealised rather than real selves. Living at the most saturated point of capitalism we must assume we are now involved on a personal level.
Zygmunt Bauman’s concept of “liquid modernity” explains this. If we are continuously primed to consume products only to shortly dispose of them, then the same logic must now also apply to our romantic and sexual lives. The short attention span and insatiable consumer mindset we practice in other areas of our lives means that when it comes to choosing sexual partners there is a reluctance to invest or commit to just one. Sex today is less about individuals and more about numbers; more about accruing a value, more about the next best thing.
In this ruthless environment we are products, not people, and all have a shelf life. However, it is not individuals who are to blame, but rather the harmful online communities, political spheres, and societal constructs who govern us. Whether consciously or unconsciously, people are opting out. Women in particular have an inherited sensitivity to being products in social exchanges, so it is no wonder they are choosing themselves over this culture of commodification. Female celibacy is on the rise; not for the sake of preserving purity but for refusing to have sex on anything but your own terms; in our chaotic, impersonal world it is an attempt to stay true to yourself.
