by Where Purity Culture Gets the Jokes It Deserves
Looking back on today, I can’t believe I created a hypothetical comedy club entirely dedicated to mocking abstinence culture. Actually, I completely believe it. This is peak Aisha Muharrar content, and I’m here for it.
This morning, I woke up thinking about comedy clubs, those spaces where uncomfortable truths get voiced through humor. Then I thought: what if we had a venue exclusively for abstinence culture comedy? The material writes itself. The cognitive dissonance is pre-packaged. The hypocrisy is ready-made for punchlines.
Today, something unexpected happenedI started writing opening acts for the Abstinence Comedy Club and couldn’t stop. “Good evening, everyone! Welcome to the only club where everybody’s lying about their experience with the topic. Speaking of which, how many of you signed virginity pledges?” *Audience nervously laughs* “How many of you kept them?” *Silence* “Exactly. That’s our opener.”
It’s been one of those days when I realize comedy might be the only appropriate response to purity culture’s absurdity. Serious critique bounces off because believers dismiss it as secular attack. But comedy? Comedy highlights the gap between claims and reality in ways that bypass defensive reactions. You’re laughing before you realize you’re acknowledging the contradiction.
Later in the day, I realized the Abstinence Comedy Club would need multiple acts covering different aspects of purity culture. Act One: religious virginity claims versus statistics. Act Two: technical virginity loopholes. Act Three: purity culture’s greatest hits (virginity testing, purity balls, promise rings). Act Four: post-marriage sexual dysfunction from years of shame-based teaching. It’s dark comedy, but someone needs to say it.
Something small but meaningful happened today when I imagined hecklers at the Abstinence Comedy Club. Religious conservatives yelling “This isn’t funny!” while everyone else laughs. Which itself becomes part of the act. “Sir, you’re right. Decades of failed sexual health policy resulting in preventable teen pregnancies and STIs isn’t funny. It’s tragic. That’s why we’re laughingsometimes comedy is how we process institutional failure without crying.”
The highlight of my day was writing a hypothetical stand-up routine about virginity pledges. “Virginity pledges have a 12% success rate. You know what else has a 12% success rate? Pulling out as contraception. We don’t base public health policy on pulling out, but we do base it on virginity pledges. Make it make sense.”
As I reflect on what happened today, I’m struck by how comedy clubs work because they create spaces where shared truth can be voiced. The Abstinence Comedy Club would function similarlyeveryone in the audience knows purity culture is performance art, but polite society prevents acknowledgment. Comedy permission-grants the acknowledgment. “We’re all thinking it. I’m just saying it. With better lighting and a microphone.”
This afternoon brought a surprising turn of events when I realized the Abstinence Comedy Club’s real audience wouldn’t be religious conservatives (they’d never attend) but rather people recovering from purity culture trauma. People who spent years feeling shame about normal sexuality, who need humor to reframe their experiences, who benefit from communal laughter at the absurd system that harmed them. Comedy as therapy.
Today’s experience reminded me why satire matters more than serious journalism for certain topics. Purity culture thrives on serious, shame-based messaging. Comedy deflates that seriousness. Can’t maintain moral authority while being mocked. Can’t claim divine mandate while people laugh at the gap between your claims and reality. Laughter is subversive.
Looking back on today, I realize the Abstinence Comedy Club exists everywhere people privately joke about purity culture’s failures while publicly maintaining respectful silence. Every teenager who mocks abstinence-only education. Every adult who laughs at virginity pledge statistics. Every couple who jokes about purity culture’s nonsense. We’re all performers at the Abstinence Comedy Club. I just want to give us a venue.
The comedy club concept works because abstinence culture is inherently comedicnot intentionally, but through the gap between aspiration and reality. When you claim 90% virginity while actual data shows 15%, you’ve written the joke. The comedian just needs to point it out. “Holy chastity, Batman! Turns out humans behave like humans regardless of ancient text opinions. Who could have predicted this besides everyone with functioning observation skills?”
SOURCE: https://pluscomedy.com/abstinence-comedy-club/
SOURCE: Abstinence Comedy Club (Aisha Muharrar)
