a licensed therapist dedicated to helping individuals and families heal from religious trauma, navigate faith transitions, and embrace meaningful life changes. My approach is grounded in compassion, evidence-based practices like DBT and EMDR, and a deep understanding of the unique challenges my clients face. I believe in creating a space where you feel seen, supported, and empowered to reconnect with your inner compass.

I’m a trauma therapist in Gilbert, Arizona, and much of my work focuses on religious trauma, particularly within the LDS church culture. Over the years, I’ve worked with many women who struggle with body shame, even when they can’t immediately point to where it started.
Recently, I attended my daughter’s dance recital. As I watched her on stage, I found myself thinking about how differently moments like that were experienced when I was growing up. I remembered how much attention was placed on girls’ bodies, how early that attention started, and how quickly it shifted into concern, monitoring, and judgment. At the time, that focus felt normal. Looking back now, it’s clear how much fear and pressure were tied up in those moments.
That experience connects closely to what I see in therapy. Many women were taught to relate to their bodies through modesty and purity teachings that focused on control and responsibility rather than trust or ownership. Those lessons often shaped how women understood their bodies long before they had the space or ability to question them.
This post looks at how modesty and purity culture contribute to body shame, why these teachings can be harmful over time, and what healing can look like after growing up with them.
Modesty culture teaches girls and women that their bodies need to be managed to keep others safe. While this is often explained as protection or responsibility, it puts a lot of weight on the individual. Girls learn early that how they dress, move, or show up in public can affect how others behave.
In many religious settings, modesty isn’t taught as a personal choice based on comfort. It’s treated as something girls are in charge of. Being noticed is seen as risky, and avoiding harm is often tied to how carefully girls control their bodies. Over time, this leads to staying on guard instead of feeling relaxed.
Body shame grows in this kind of environment through constant self-checking. Many women learn to keep close track of how they look, sit, stand, or move as part of daily life. This kind of checking becomes second nature and shapes how someone moves through the world without much awareness.
When these patterns continue for years in religious environments, the body can stop feeling neutral or safe. It can start to feel like something that needs constant control, which creates distance from the body and self-trust
Purity culture builds on modesty teachings by tying safety and worth to sexual restraint. In many religious settings, girls are taught early that desire, curiosity, or attention can lead to serious consequences. These messages often show up before someone is old enough to really understand them.
As I sat in the auditorium watching my daughter dance, I realized how much these teachings shape perception. A past version of me would not have watched that recital with ease. I would have been scanning for what felt inappropriate, worrying about how bodies were being seen, and feeling responsible for protecting against imagined danger. That response wasn’t about my daughter. It came from what I had been taught.
Purity culture teaches people to see bodies as risky instead of expressive. Over time, this can create fear around being noticed at all. Many women carry that fear into adulthood, where it continues to affect intimacy, confidence, and how comfortable they feel being seen.
Many modesty and purity teachings are supported by what’s often called benevolent sexism. This shows up as concern, protection, or moral guidance, but it relies on unequal expectations and responsibility.
When women are taught that their bodies need to be controlled to protect others, responsibility shifts. Men are treated as unable to control themselves, while women are expected to prevent problems. This creates an unspoken hierarchy where women learn to limit themselves to keep others comfortable or safe.
I think about this often as a parent now. Watching my daughter and other young girls move through the world, I’m aware of how early this mindset can take hold. When women are taught that men cannot control themselves, and that women must step in to manage that risk, it doesn’t just shape rules around clothing. It shapes how women learn to see responsibility, power, and blame. It also quietly teaches men that their actions are not fully their own.
Over time, these beliefs affect how women relate to themselves and to each other. Watching, comparing, and judging become common, often within families, friendships, and communities. Instead of feeling connected, women may feel scrutinized. Instead of trust, control takes its place. Body shame is reinforced not only by leaders or teachings, but through everyday interactions between women.
As these messages repeat, they often move inward. What begins as outside rules slowly turns into internal shame that shapes how women relate to themselves and others.
As a queer woman who didn’t come out until my thirties, I felt this personally. I learned to fear my own body and to mistrust men, while also struggling with feelings toward women that I didn’t have language or permission to explore. I was taught to see women’s bodies as dangerous and responsible for harm, and I carried those beliefs inside myself.
That conditioning created confusion and distance rather than understanding. I learned to push down instinct, suppress response, and closely monitor myself. Many women I work with describe similar experiences. Over time, the body can start to feel less like something that belongs to them and more like something that must be controlled.
For those who grew up in LDS church culture or other high-control religious settings, these teachings often leave lasting marks. Body shame connected to religious trauma can show up alongside anxiety, difficulty trusting oneself, challenges with intimacy, and feeling disconnected from the body.
Even after someone leaves a belief system, these patterns can stay. The body may still react with caution or self-monitoring, even when the person no longer agrees with the beliefs that shaped those reactions. This can feel confusing and frustrating, especially for people who feel they should be past it by now.
Understanding religious trauma helps explain why these experiences linger and why healing often involves more than changing beliefs alone.
Healing from body shame often begins by building safety rather than pushing confidence. In therapy, especially body image therapy shaped by trauma work, the focus is on helping people reconnect with their bodies in gentle, supported ways.
This often includes learning to notice physical responses without judgment, finding words for internal experiences, and rebuilding trust in personal boundaries and signals. Over time, the body can begin to feel less like something that needs constant management and more like a place of stability.
If modesty culture, purity culture, or religious trauma have shaped how you feel in your body, you can book a session with me to begin working through body shame, identity, and safety in a supportive therapeutic space.For more insight into religious trauma and faith transitions, you may also want to read my reflection on leaving the “bubble” and how belief systems shape emotional safety in my last blog – Leaving Mormonism: What Wicked’s “Bubble” Song Teaches About Faith Transitions.
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Inner Compass is a licensed mental health haven in Gilbert, Arizona for individuals, couples, families, and teens who are navigating life’s transitions and trauma.
Inner Compass is a licensed mental health haven in Gilbert, Arizona for individuals, couples, families, and teens who are navigating life’s transitions and trauma.
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