Guardian (London) - September 21, 2007
'Celibacy can be rebellious'
Celibacy used to be a lonely choice, but now abstinence groups are springing up across the UK. Most have a strait-laced image - but, as Naadia Kidy finds out, some women are enjoying a much more rock'n'roll approach to chastity
It seems fair to say that I'm a one-date wonder. It's not that I'm socially inept - I have my share of charm, intelligence and looks. It's that I won't have sex and can't be persuaded - an easy way of sieving out potential boyfriends.
I'm 24 now and over the years I've watched all my friends cross the bridge into a sex life, most seeming to emerge with a sense of regret. I've heard a whole array of horror stories, enough to put off even the most hardened nymphomaniac - let alone a God-fearing Afro- Muslim emigrée like me. Throughout my life then, I've always stayed on the celibate side of the grass, even if the other side does occasionally look greener, sweeter and more satisfying.
There have been times when it's felt pretty lonely being a celibate woman in a sex-obsessed world, but recently that feeling has subsided slightly. Take even a quick glance around, and it has become difficult to avoid the growing visibility of celibacy groups.
The Silver Ring Thing (SRT), for instance, an abstinence support network based on Christian teachings (and long popular in the US) has gained considerable ground in the past year. Those who sign up to the SRT434 programme (SRT's British regiment) wear a silver band to remind them of their abstinence pledge. The organisation attracted considerable attention earlier this year, when 16-year-old Lydia Playfoot took her school to court for banning her from wearing her ring. She lost the case, and her father, also a key member of the SRT movement, was left to foot the £20,000 legal bill.
There were grumbles that the case had been a publicity stunt, but, if so, it seems to be working - the Silver Ring Thing and True Love Waits (a smaller Christian group which promotes the same cause) are both gaining popularity. Gareth Hutchinson, who runs the SRT434 course in Swindon, says a group of young people "asked if we could start running the programme - they had heard about it themselves". Companies such as Waitwear clothing (which prints logos such as "No Vow, No Sex" on underwear) have cropped up, while UK website www.celibrate.org is said to regularly attract hundreds of hits. In the US, books such as Dawn Eden's The Thrill of the Chaste (about the thirtysomething author's decision to give up sex) and Wendy Shalit's Girls Gone Mild (which suggests abstinence as an antidote to objectification) are part of a large wave of chastity-lit, and the Christian pop star Natasha Bedingfield has released the song Single - which some have read as a paean to celibacy.
All of which has helped raise the profile of abstinence considerably - but, let's face it, hasn't exactly made it cool. I like to think that I'm someone who is fairly cutting edge in most respects, but it seems that though celibacy and abstinence messages may be getting more popular, they are still a long way from being fashionable.
Or so I thought, until an acquaintance of mine - a young, arty kid from Shoreditch in east London - told me about The Prim and Proper Pussy Club (The PPPC). Most of this 25-strong group of women, based in Hackney, could give Amy Winehouse competition in the debauchery stakes - and all are celibate. Unlike the SRT crew (Christian) and myself (Muslim), the club's members aren't religious - so I wondered why they had chosen chastity?
Sucking on a cigarette, the head honcho of the five-year-old club, Miss Angeline, told me that "No two girls in the club are here for the same reason - some girls were sexually abused, some prefer intimacy over sex, some think that abstinence is the new laid. For me, abstinence is part of a personal quest. It is the realisation that freedom in its purest form comprises of not being addicted to anyone, especially the male body. I gave up having sex and, though the first few months were torture, I am now as free as I can be in a capitalist world."
Miss Angeline claims she will not be marrying, and will adopt and raise children by herself. "Her girls", as she calls them, give a plethora of reasons for their pledges. Crystal, a 20-year-old designer, and self-confessed "recovering nymphomaniac", says, "I decided to stop fucking around when it became boring. Everyone was doing it. No one knew who was diseased, as everyone had slept with everyone else. It had completely lost its buzz. So I quit."
Mimi, 19, the club's youngest member, is also in search of bigger and better highs. She sees celibacy as a revenge tactic. "Think of every man who has forgotten, cheated, and been 'too busy' to care - well, it's payback time. Now, no one can touch me. I lead them on, I play all the games, I don't call."
The PPPC has no MySpace or Facebook pages: the only way to join the club is an invitation from another member. While the SRT followers flaunt their celibacy, The PPPC women, fully equipped with pseudonyms and anonymity, still seem to feel a clash of cultures. Based in the heart of the East End's rock colony, being celibate - the antithesis of rock'n'roll - must be difficult, but they won't admit it.
Instead the women declare that the low profile is in order to keep the club young, fresh and interesting. If they let it turn mainstream, it will "lose its novelty". Miss Angeline also reassures me that the member introduction policy is "just a safety measure".
I can't help but feel empowered by these flamboyant women. Their celibacy is as much a rebellion as promiscuity. And while other belief groups base their virtues on some kind of pre-ordained set of rules, The PPPC doesn't comply with any but its own.
In many ways these women are living a life I would love, but, although I was invited, I chose not to join them. I don't think I'm quite cut out for all the drugs and alcohol: I'm trying to bring about a general moral change in myself, not just my sex life. I would love to see other groups like this start up, though - ones that make their own rules, provide a support network, and don't force us celibate folk to compromise our cool. For now, I will remain on my side of the grass - and keep relying on divine intervention when the going gets tough.