The Rice Purity Test is a popular online test that determines, in essence, how “pure” or “unpure” one is based on their experiences. The test, which is a checklist-style page with a list of 100 items ranging in themes from love and sex to substance use and the law, has users check off each activity they have engaged in. The official site claims that the Rice Purity Test has historically served as a segue or tradition during orientation week, a “voluntary opportunity for O-week groups to bond,” and for incoming freshmen to “track the maturation of their experiences throughout college.” At the end of the list is a button that calculates the user’s score, with 100 being the highest and most “pure” and 0 being the most “impure.” Though the site gives a disclaimer that attempts to complete “all items on this test will likely result in death,” it is a given that the lower one’s score is, the more impressive by societal standards.

I can remember hearing about the Rice Purity Test as early as 15 or 16 years old when I had just begun high school. This was also around the time when I started having many “firsts”: my first kiss, my first boyfriend, my first time being drunk and my first time smoking. Relative to my friends, I was ahead of the curve or “on track” in terms of teenage development, an idea that my peers — and society at large — made clear was something to be desired. While I went through typical adolescent insecurities, I never felt embarrassed, inexperienced or behind in terms of my life experiences.

This all changed when I entered college. I had just come out of a high school relationship with someone whom I thought I would have sex with for the first time. The opportunity had definitely presented itself, and I had wanted to, but due to external circumstances, it never felt like the right place or time.

My first semester during freshman year made one thing very clear: college is the time to be “wild.” In movies, college is the precursor to adulthood, ripe with fun opportunities and independence. For many, college is the first time in our lives that we experience what feels like unlimited freedom: freedom to party, freedom to experiment with substances, freedom to invite anyone over, freedom from a curfew, freedom from having to answer to someone and so on. This newfound privilege and lack of parental guidance come with expectations, mainly that college is the time to gain experience and engage in “grown-up” behavior. Countless times freshman year it felt like an ongoing competition of who had the wildest or most fun night out, who brought someone home and who had the most scandalous story to tell the next day. This sentiment is evident in the description of the Rice Purity Test itself — it is often used as a tool to gauge one’s maturation or progression thereof throughout your four years and crossing off more items is an improvement, something to be proud of. I myself have taken the test a number of times to see if my score had decreased since the previous result.

What happens, then, if you don’t fit neatly into society’s predetermined timeline of romantic and sexual development? What happens when you aren’t hitting the romantic and sexual milestones at the same pace as everyone else in college? In my experience, you are made to feel like you should be embarrassed, that there is something wrong with you and that you are fundamentally missing out on life and the “true” college experience. Even for someone like myself, who spent most of my time in sex-positive spaces, I actively did not mention that I had never had sex. When I did, my peers were kind, but I wanted them to forget because it felt like I had revealed a dirty secret (ironically) and was subject to judgement, a change in perception or even worse, pity. Simple moments like friends telling stories about bad sex, complaining about birth control and contraceptives and dishing about secret kinks made me feel embarrassed that I had nothing to contribute. We would take the Rice Purity Test together for fun and I would sheepishly reveal that my score was in the 50s when everyone else’s was in the 30s. Every time I made a new friend and we inevitably bonded and discussed our personal lives, thinking about if and when to tell them about this fact loomed over my head.

The societal stress surrounding being “inexperienced” followed me outside of friendship, where the pressure of a “first time” and the awkwardness of anticipating a response made me steer clear of disclosing that information or even trying to have that conversation with a new hookup. I felt as though I had to be apologetic for being inexperienced, for not being able to readily give people “what they want” — when in fact I had felt ready to have sex for a long time, it was just a matter of meeting the right person. The right person, to me, meant that they cared about my wants and needs just as much as their own, and I wasn’t willing to compromise on that. I was not going to let someone shame me for wanting to take things slow or to be communicative and enthusiastic during sex.

When I finally did have sex, the relief I felt was so anticlimactic. Why had I been so stressed about this for so long? I felt no different than I had before I had this experience. Honestly, I was madder than anything that I felt shame about my choice to have sex with someone who cared about my pleasure and my happiness, a choice that I don’t regret in the slightest but made me feel undesirable for so long.

There is such a double standard in society about being a young person in regard to your sexual development and maturation — don’t let sexual experience define your worth or value! But also, it’s “kind of weird” to be inexperienced, a virgin or single after a certain age. Be fun! But don’t do too much because then you’ll be judged. This standard is even worse for women, who have to shoulder labels like “prude,” “slut” and “whore,” and for people of color, who deal with racialized sexual stereotypes. This is pertinent to mention when our sexuality and bodies are constantly under attack and are always subject to commentary.

I want this to be clear: I am in no way condemning anyone for having sex — people should be allowed to do whatever they like as long as everyone involved is safe and having fun. I love hearing juicy stories about a recent encounter or a funny sex story just as much as the next person — however, there is a lot of societal work to be done toward being supportive and nonjudgmental about everyone’s romantic and sexual development, regardless of their journey. Wanting connection is a human experience, but everyone has their own set of circumstances that greatly influence their story. There is nothing wrong with who you are just because you haven’t checked off certain to-do’s on an online test. It is not a race. Do what you want to, when you want to, how you want to. I wish I had known these things earlier.