Pure: Inside the Evangelical Movement That Shamed a Generation of Young Women and How I Broke Free

by Linda Kay Klein

I never told Blue of course. I couldn’t give her the satisfaction. But I did begin to observe myself more closely—how I spoke, when, why. And for the first time, Blue and I got on the same page. When I began to speak in that high-pitched voice, Blue stopped me. “Pay attention to what you are doing now,” she would say. “Your voice just went up again. You hear that? The squeaky girl is back. Why? What are you thinking? What are we doing that brought you back there?” “I don’t know,” I might say. “I guess I wanted to know what you think of the song I just played.” Blue would laugh. “You want me to approve of you? Then stop asking me to. How does your throat feel?” “Tight.” “Tight. Right. So relax it.” I closed my eyes, dropped my tongue to create space at the back of my throat, took a deep breath, and rolled my head around on my neck. “Okay, now finish what you were saying,” Blue would prod. When I did, it came out straight, without apology, without permission, without question, and with a mounting annoyance at the professor who it would’ve killed to give a girl a break, let alone a friggin’ pat on the head every once in a while. “Good,” Blue said. “Now—sing.”