Things are about to get real vulnerable around here for a bit—but hang in there with me. I promise it will get lighter. I promise we will get back to the light and empowering, fun, and cheeky vibes that I usually put out for the world to see soon. But I think it’s time to share my story with you—the real and very raw of it.
This is my why.
This is why I focus on boudoir and not on any of the other wonderful, impactful, and artistic forms of photography. Before we go any further, I want to take a moment to warn you that this story may be triggering for some. I'll do my best to add some content warnings before each section so that you know what you are walking into. I am a purity culture and SA survivor, and that is an important part of my story. If you need to stop reading now, I understand. Just know that I am here to share, to listen, and to be part of your journey whenever you are ready.
Let’s begin, shall we?
Hi, my name is Alanna, and I am a survivor of what happens when purity culture is done VERY wrong. I am also a survivor of sexual abuse. This is my story.
To put it simply, I grew up in a church culture that placed 99.9999999…999999% of the blame for any sexual sin on the woman in the situation. That belief system led to a lot of scandals involving predatory behavior from leadership within this denomination. There are documentaries you can watch about it—but that’s not why we’re here. Fortunately, that isn’t my personal story, though I know far too many who share that experience.
⚠ Content Warning: Childhood experiences of purity culture and early trauma.
By third grade, I had already been deeply affected by these beliefs. So when that one girl did that one thing to me in her bedroom that wasn’t inherently bad but made me wildly uncomfortable, I knew it was my fault—somehow. Because if I ended up in a situation I wasn’t supposed to be in, it was always my fault.
Again, at 10, when the neighborhood boys grabbed at my developing young body—it was my fault. So I would run up to our apartment and feign illness or something. Next time, I wore two bras and a baggier shirt to avoid drawing attention to my body. That would help, right? I just wanted to be liked, and I didn’t want to make the boys stumble. So I changed everything about myself and made myself more and more uncomfortable—because it was my fault that they had wandering hands and minds.
Spoiler: It didn’t work. So, in my shame for causing the boys to stumble, I stopped playing outside.
⚠ Content Warning: Body image struggles & coping mechanisms.
Over the next few years, through middle and high school, I became the D.U.F.F. (designated ugly fat friend). My insecurities skyrocketed, but thank God, the unwanted handsiness stopped. Maybe being the fat girl wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe it was a blessing. I wasn’t causing the guys around me to stumble because I wasn’t attractive enough for them to even look my way. So I wouldn’t have to carry that fear and shame anymore.
⚠ Content Warning: Power imbalance & unhealthy relationship dynamics.
I did start dating, though. At 17, during my first semester of college, I started dating a guy five years older than me—a former youth leader at my church back home. If you’re reading this and screaming about the red flags, I see them now. But insecure, afraid-of-never-being-loved, had-seen-her-fatness-as-both-a-blessing-and-a-curse 17-year-old Alanna could not.
(Side note: God bless my parents. They were afraid to push me away because they knew I was stubborn as hell. They just loved me through it and were there to help pick up the pieces when it all went to crap. So don’t come for them.)
⚠ Content Warning: Marital trauma & consent within marriage.
Fast forward.
A month after I turned 18, I married him. For two years, I endured… a lot. We both had very twisted views of love, marriage, and intimacy, largely due to the broken ideologies of toxic purity culture. But as a PSA to anyone reading this: No still means no, even if it’s your spouse. Especially if they express that something causes them pain (and not the fun kind). A marriage license is not “a license to do whatever I want.” Consent still matters in marriage. Anything that contradicts this is not in alignment with God’s design for marriage and intimacy. Go read Song of Solomon (or Song of Songs in some versions). You’ll find that God’s design for marital intimacy is supposed to be fun, passionate, and mutually enjoyable.
*Steps off soapbox.*
Reclaiming Myself Through Boudoir
After my divorce, I spent years in counseling, going through deep healing prayer, and doing a lot of self-work to process the trauma from the last 20 years of my life. I knew that one day, I would meet someone who would love, respect, and protect me, and I wanted to be ready for them. And after a series of events (that are for another story time), six years later, I married my best friend.
But before I married him, I knew I needed to do something to prepare my mind and body for intimacy again. I needed, for the first time, to take autonomy over my body and connect with it in a way that I never had before. I needed to look in the mirror and see myself—not what had been done to me. I needed to take those final steps from victim to survivor.
I reached out to our wedding photographer, who is also a dear friend (shout out Christa Bailey Photography!), and asked about doing a boudoir session. She was SO. ON. BOARD. And am I ever glad she was. It was one of the most empowering experiences of my life.
She has since become one of my mentors in the industry. During one of our workdays, I told her how there are photos I love to look at because of how they make me feel—they take me back to the moment I fully embraced myself. Are there photos I don’t love? Sure! Not because of anything Bailey did, but I’m a woman—we are professional self-pick-apart-ers. But even those photos hold power. They remind me that I did it. That I survived.
Why Boudoir Matters
These photos remind me that I put in the hard work and came out stronger. They embolden me to share my story and my passion with other women who have experienced betrayal, loss, or heartache—anything that told them they were anything less than incredible warriors.
Boudoir isn’t just about sexy photos. It’s not pornographic in nature. It’s not just about spicing things up (though it cando that, and we love to see relationships thriving). Boudoir helps you connect with your body so you can go into the world as the best version of yourself. It’s a tool to tell yourself, “No more will I live in a victim mindset. I will walk in the truth that I have survived, I have thrived, and I am stronger today because of the life I have lived. I will not be defined by ______.”
This is why, my friends. This is why I do it.
I have been through hell. I have experienced betrayal by loved ones. I have been betrayed by my own body. I know what it is to dissociate from your body for survival. And I know the power boudoir can hold in reclaiming yourself.
It’s not for everyone, and I respect that. I make no assumptions that this is a one-size-fits-all prescription for healing and freedom. But if you’ve been thinking about it—if you’re curious—this, my friend, is your invitation. Come see just how transformative a boudoir session can be.
Are you ready to journey with me?
Book your free discovery call here.
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