Even though I'm the mom of five, my children are young enough that I'm not yet connected to the teen or tween scene. So when Today Show producer Alicia Ybarbo called to ask about my interest in covering a story on Purity Balls, I had no idea what she was talking about. My first thought was it was some kind of round soap. No joke.
A Purity Ball, it turns out, is a bit like a prom... but with a twist. It's a fancy evening out with food, music and dancing. Right there is where the similarity to a school dance abruptly ends. At a Purity Ball, the date is dad and the purpose is a pledge girls as young as eleven take to remain 'pure.' That is, they make a public promise to their fathers that they will abstain from sex until they're married.
Whether it's the season's hottest bag or a really good story, everyone wants an exclusive and I'm no exception. I soon learned that wasn't going to be the case at the Purity Ball Alicia and I would attend in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The organizers were coy about the other news organizations covering the event, so I expected our competitors to be there. I wasn't expecting a crew from Al Jazeera! A French television network made the trek to South Dakota as well.
Frankly, in an era of questionable behavior by supposed role models like Paris and Britney, I was more than a little surprised that an event like this existed (apparently, Al Jazeera was too). A group called the National Abstinence Clearinghouse, which helps organize the parties, says there were more than 700 of them last year, mostly in the Midwest and the South. With three daughters approaching this age group, I was curious.
It was pretty. On an icy winter evening, the hotel ballroom was filled with white balloons and cream candles -- not unlike the decor of those homecoming dances I remember from high school. A band played, the girls wore prom-like dresses and, on a Friday night, dads were in their Sunday best.
When it was time to take the pledge, the girls stood and faced their fathers. They read from a card that had been placed at their table. I wondered how many understood the commitment they were making - and how many would honor it. Was it more about helping well-intentioned dads (and moms at home) feel like they were doing everything they could to protect their daughters?
As part of the story, I spent some time with a University of Texas college student who took an abstinence vow at 15. At 20, Shelby Knox believes the pledges can cut off communication between parents and children. "If a teen has sexual feelings and wants to talk to her parents about them, she may feel like she can't or she shouldn't because she made this promise," she told me.
As a mom, I want to protect my daughters but I also want to empower them. If we want to teach young girls that they alone are in control of their bodies, does this public promise to Daddy send a signal that he's the one in control until a husband takes over?
That was what I wondered as I stood at the back of the ballroom in Sioux Falls. The girls, it seemed, appeared delighted just to have a special night with their fathers -- and maybe that was the most valuable part of this party. I don't know what the folks from Al Jazeera were thinking as they left, but I was planning a date -- for three little girls and their dad.
