Raised in the grip of purity culture and patriarchal expectations, Courtney Boyer knows firsthand what it means to shrink yourself to fit someone else’s script. Today, as a sexuality and relationship coach, she turns that experience into fuel for change.
With a voice that is both fierce and compassionate, she dismantles the shame and silence that keep people disconnected from their bodies, their desires, and each other.
Her work challenges the myths of perfectionism, virginity, and “happily ever after”, inviting people to step into authenticity and claim pleasure on their own terms. Whether she’s helping clients untangle mismatched desires, explore polyamory, or unlearn toxic beliefs about sex, Courtney creates space for truth, vulnerability, and radical self-acceptance.
In our conversation with Courtney, we set out to trace the turning points that led her to break free from inherited scripts and redefine what love, intimacy, and freedom can truly mean.
Your work focuses on challenging purity culture, patriarchy, and perfectionism. What inspired you to start this journey, both personally and professionally?
Courtney Boyer: I grew up in the Evangelical Christian church, where women were burdened with the responsibility of dressing modestly and shrinking themselves (physically, sexually, spiritually, etc.) because we were taught men were insatiable sex hounds whose knees would buckle at the sight of a bra strap. I went into the field of sexuality because I wanted to bring healthy and uplifting sexuality education to the church. But throughout the years, I realised how toxic the messaging was around purity culture (if you weren’t a “virgin” on your wedding night, God was going to punish you with bad sex or ill-behaved children) and how the push to keep women in line with patriarchal teachings was just a way to control us.
I also struggled with my body image for most of my life. Needing to be the “perfect” godly woman for my future husband meant being small-physically, vocally, etc.. I was afraid of taking up too much space, of being too much, because the messaging was that I was either a distraction (tempting men) or demanding (being selfish for advocating for my needs). Of course, once you snagged this godly man, you needed to stay small so he wouldn’t stray. This also bred a distrust among women. I couldn’t trust other women because we were all competing for the same resource – a “successful” godly man. This is why you had to 1) keep other women at bay and 2) provide your man with any kind of satisfaction he desired so he wouldn’t leave you. Being alone, not chosen, was the worst thing because then the whole world would know no one wanted you.
For the most part, I had “achieved” the desirable life. Married to a doctor. Three healthy kids. Successful business. Homeowner. But I was miserable. I had done everything “right” but was so disconnected from who I was. I wanted to understand, so I started to deconstruct my faith, and that’s where I really began to dismantle the deep-seated distrust of other women and the desire to be perfect and small by shrinking who I was.
As a relationship coach, how do you help people break free from shame around their sexual desires and explore authentic pleasure?
Courtney Boyer: Permission given. I spend a lot of my time giving people permission to just exist. Isn’t that sad? Society, especially religion, conditions people to feel ashamed for having bodies. Bodies with desires and needs and expressions. It’s wild but also incredibly smart because if you raise a person to hate their body (and the experience of one’s body), you can sell them a cream, get them to buy into another fad diet, control their sexual behaviour (good girls don’t like sex; that makes you a slut), and make them obediently productive and consumptive humans.
So I spend a lot of my time bringing awareness to this reality. We’re brought up in this system, so it’s often hard to see how much it permeates our very existence. Awareness, permission giving, and reconnecting to the authentic self. That last part is a lot like meeting someone you haven’t seen in decades. Building trust, finding what lights them up, honoring their boundaries, and discovering new things. That’s the awakening. I’m just the guide who helps them through this process and holds space for alllll the big feelings and beliefs that come up.
How has being openly polyamorous shifted your understanding of love, sex, and emotional connection?
Courtney Boyer: Oh geez. How has it not? I was raised to see romantic relationships as an escalator. You’re always moving to that next level until you finally reach the top-marriage. And then once you’ve found your person/soulmate, you get your happily ever after. That relationship reigns as supreme. Nothing shall come close to that marital love, and if it does, well,l you’re either sinning or disconnected or not “rightly” invested in your relationship. In other words, you’re doing something wrong.
I would see the women in my life, especially in my mom’s generation, who had these close emotional bonds with their girlfriends. Who shared their secrets, spilled the tea on the latest struggle in their life, and ultimately turned to each other first before their spouse. I couldn’t understand why that was acceptable, having someone who wasn’t your spouse as your best friend whom you went on trips and emotionally bonded, but it would be crossing the line if that relationship became sexual. That didn’t make sense to me.
I began to look at the history of marriage and the structure of relationships throughout time, and simultaneously doing research on my first book that examined why women were so disinterested in sex. The more I looked at history, the more enraged I became. Women were treated as property, an extension of their spouse, a representation of their tribe or family, never as their own person. During the industrial era, when women began to emerge into society, we started seeing marriages based on love and one’s own choosing.
This idea, of marrying for love, is a modern one. And it has morphed into not just marrying for love, but marrying someone who is your EVERYTHING: your co-parent, lover, financial advisor, spiritual buddy, best friend, gym partner… It’s become unrealistic. And I wondered, if we can “outsource” some of these roles to other people, why can’t we outsource our sexual needs and desires?
And no one had a good answer other than, “Because it’s sex. It’s supposed to be for your special person. That’s what makes that relationship different.” When I see the words “supposed to,” my spidey senses are activated.
Who gets to decide what one is supposed to do? Religion? Society? What are those rules based on? When I realised it was all made up, all subjective, I started to consider that maybe, just maybe, love didn’t need to be limited romantically
Many people struggle with desire mismatches or feeling “not enough” in relationships. What’s your advice for couples navigating those intimate challenges?
Courtney Boyer: I like to do a deep dive on the messages they received about sexuality, body image, and relationships. Those are crucial to understanding how they’re impacting the overall relationship. It’s also important to ascertain relationship expectations as well as gender roles. If you know your husband expects a traditional wife and you realise you no longer are that or can’t provide that type of role, you may not feel adequate. But does your husband really expect that or is that just something you assumed because that’s what your mom and his mom did?
Speaking of expectations, I like to have couples identify their sexpectations (yes, expectations around sexuality). Most couples have never even asked each other how often they’d like to be sexually intimate (I don’t just mean penetration; I mean intentional sexual touch and connection). They make assumptions and either feel neglected or bothered by their partner.
It’s super helpful to realize that so much of sex is really about connection. Feeling seen by our partners. Being desired by them. Wanting to pleasure them. Wanting to feel good because of them. Experiencing ecstasy together.
I like to remind couples that they’re on the same team. You can navigate a storm together, or you can both abandon ship. I’m not going to judge you either way, but I will help you navigate your relationship in a way where each partner feels heard and valued.
You’re passionate about deconstructing purity culture. What’s one belief about sex you had to unlearn, and what did you replace it with?
Courtney Boyer: I can only pick one, lol? That I lose something when I have sex. I despise the phrase “lost my virginity”. One, virginity is a social construct meant to control women’s sexual behaviour. Two, why must one lose anything when they have sex? But hot damn, if you instil this fear into teens, that they give part of themselves away when they have sex with someone, and if they have sex with “too many” someones, then you’ll have nothing to give your spouse, it makes them think twice about who they have sex with. Not because they think it’s the “right thing” to do or have few sexual partners, but because they’re afraid.
Afraid of not being enough. Of being used goods that no one will want. I replaced this belief with seeing sex as an act of partnering or sharing. Instead of asking, “when did you lose your virginity?”, I may ask, “when did you share yourself sexually with someone for the first time?” It’s a very empowering shift. I am in control of who I partner or share my body with. I give nothing away. I lose nothing (ok, maybe some self-respect with some douchebags along the way). I am no less whole or worthy because of who I have sex with.
What’s one taboo topic you think we all need to talk about more when it comes to sex and relationships and why is it still so hush-hush?
Courtney Boyer: I had a friend share with my recently that he was talking with someone he’s known for years. She asked him, “ when do men stop wanting sex like four or five times a day?” He laughed and said, “Never.” She frowned. “I could have sex like four or five times a year.” My friend, who is also polyamorous, asked her if she was a jealous person. She shook her head. “I don’t have a jealous bone in my body.” So he then suggested she consider opening the relationship. She abruptly stated, “absolutely not.”
When most people think about “taboo” topics, they usually think of the extreme – “weird” fetishes that less than one percent of the population engage in. Since being openly polyamorous, I get a lot of pushback (that’s a nice way of saying a lot of terrible and mean things are said about me) on “promoting my lifestyle” (i.e., I just share about my life). The idea of engaging in anything outside of monogamy is still incredibly taboo. If someone falls to unfaithful actions, they’re forgiven, as long as they repent. Society doesn’t demonise them as depraved. In fact, they will often look to make excuses: “Well, what did you expect? She/he was never home; I mean, she/he have let herself/himself go since they first started dating; Kids really do make it hard to keep the spark alive…”
But the idea of wanting to ethically engage in anything outside of monogamy leaves people confused, sometimes even angry. We’ve accepted that you can love one, two, or 10 kids and tons of friends, but somehow, you’re maxed at only loving one person romantically. Doesn’t all Love come from the same source? We get to decide how it’s expressed, don’t we?
The truth is that when you start to live outside the pre-scripted roles you were handed at birth, and you’ve created a life that is fulfilling and pleasure-filled, most people don’t like that. Because they played by the “rules” and didn’t get their happily ever after, and seeing other people make up their own rules just doesn’t feel fair.
I also see a very large sentiment of entitlement over other human beings. Our children. Our spouses. They belong to us. When really we are just their parent or their partner. When we look at how we view relationships, this requires us to also examine our sense of entitlement, which is often deep-seated in our own need for belonging. That requires a lot of introspection and vulnerability, which many don’t want to face. So it continues to get shoved under the rug. Judgements and maintaining the status quo win out.
Closing Thoughts
Our time with Courtney reminded us that reclaiming pleasure is not about ticking boxes or following someone else’s script. It’s about asking harder questions, unlearning the shame we inherited, and daring to write our own rules for intimacy, love, and connection. Whether through her coaching, her writing, or her own lived example, Courtney shows that freedom doesn’t come from fitting into perfection it comes from giving ourselves permission to be fully human.
