I remember it vividly. At twelve years old, I was in the middle of writing a Harry Potter Fan-Fic. This project involved writing a textbook on Giantology, including a study of giant reproduction. I had barely started this chapter when I suddenly realized I had no idea how humans reproduced. As humans and giants were anatomically similar, I determined this question was important to my writing assignment. So I asked my mom about it.
That was the day my parents decided to give me the talk.
Looking back at day, I wonder how a twelve-year-old in the 21st century went so long without any understanding of sex. What about television, the internet, and kids at school? Looking at our hypersexualized culture, one would think that I must be deaf, blind and slow of thought not to have picked up on something long before then.
The truth of my condition is more complicated, but just as sad. I had ears to hear, eyes to see, and a brain to pick up on the sexual cues around me, but I had willfully ignored them. This was because sex was a taboo topic in the house I grew up in. My parents grew uncomfortable with any mention of sex or related topics, and I learned from their discomfort. I felt awkward, even guilty for my questions regarding sex or the associated anatomy, and so I learned not to talk or even think about them. Of course, classmates approached me with the juicy secret every now and then, but I remember covering my ears so that I wouldn't hear them. I was thoroughly immunized against non-parental efforts to broach the topic.
Some of you reading this might be impressed. After all, a child who learns to steer clear of sexual topics avoids pornography, masturbation, and explicit media. A few might feel inclined to congratulate my parents, and maybe even compare notes on the best ways to protect kids against the wiles of the world. While I am proud of my upbringing in many ways, this is not one of them. This is because of how these experiences have shaped the rest of my life. I cherish morality and am happy I avoided these pitfalls, but early on I learned from my parents' reluctance to address sexual topics that sex was something dirty and inappropriate. I am bothered that to this day I feel awkward at thoughts of physical intimacy, and worry that this will translate to my future marriage and family. I am sorry that because my initial experiences with sexual topics were so negative, I learned to associate fear and anxiety with physical intimacy--even before I learned what it was. To this day, I don't feel comfortable addressing sexual questions with my parents or peers.
This problem isn't unique to me. While few children advance so far without learning about their sexuality, many youth feel acutely uncomfortable with the subject. Some demonstrate their discomfort through overt aversion while others handle their discomfort by making cracks at the subject. Parents are frequently frustrated to see how their children regard these important procreative powers, but it is no small wonder when we see how they teach it.
In most American families today, parents have no idea how to properly convey to their kids the value of healthy sexual relationships. Perhaps out of a fear of botching the discussion, or of not treating it with the reverence it deserves, parents are overly cautious about addressing this subject with their children. When kids ask their parents a question of a sexual nature, they will most likely be met with a palpable sense of panic as the parent scrambles to think of the right words to say. The parent in question might even invite the child into another room with them as they discuss these principles, to ensure that their child understands that the matter must be handled with dignity.
The problem with such discussions is that they're awkward. Whether their parent deals with their discomfort with solemnity or forced humor, kids don't feel comfortable in these situations, and become increasingly less likely to go to mom or dad with their questions in the future. When an adolescent has another question regarding sex, they would rather turn to another source that doesn't make a big deal of it. They instead query the internet or their teenage peers who seem remarkably comfortable with the subject, despite knowing very little about it. This is part of why so many kids learn will freely talk to their peers about sex, but clam up around their parents. In turn, teens primarily talking sex with their peers instead of their parents is largely to blame for risky sexual behaviors and unanticipated pregnancies.
This is why I don't believe in the sex talk--instead, I believe in talking to your kids about sex. Kids don't like to learn about sexuality from their parents because their parents clam up about this topic, make it awkward, or turn every such conversation into an hour long discourse, when in reality, all they need is their questions answered. Such approaches make children feel crowded, or sometimes ironically assume that their parents must not know much about the topic. I don't believe it is necessary to have a big reveal when you talk to your children about their sexual functions and responsibilities any more than we should hold of talking to our kids about religion until they're "mature enough" to handle that knowledge. Rather, I think we should answer their questions as they ask them, to explain what we know in as conversational a manner as possible and affirm moral principles as we go, just as we would any other topic.
If we talk with our kids, and truly talk with them, about this subject, perhaps we could become once more the authorities they first turn to when they have a question. Perhaps then discussions of sex could be less awkward, and more edifying, a truly enriching dialogue where we learn about relationships as well as anatomy and statistics. I hope to see a generation where kids aren't afraid of the processes in their own bodies, but still hold them in reverence and with the respect they deserve.
Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash
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