Last week, One Sexy Week arrived on campus with a keynote address by feminist activist and sex educator Laci Green. Green’s lecture focused on combatting rape culture by dismantling dangerous themes through education, awareness and action. As an avid enthusiast of taking down the patriarchy, I love that Duke supports and promotes this type of programming, but I’ve noticed it’s often the same students who attend these events. A topic this important should be accessible and disseminated to all—so where is everyone else getting their information? Not even specifically about rape culture, but sex in general. Given the dire state of sex education in our country, they are probably not.
Abstinence-only programs continue to be well-funded, even though studies repeatedly show they are ineffective at preventing sexual activity. According to the Guttmacher Institute, only 23 states and the District of Columbia mandate sex education in public schools. Only 13 states require that this curriculum be medically accurate. What justification could there be for providing information that is not accurate? I genuinely do not know. 13 states require discussion of sexual orientation, but four of those only require that negative information be given. It is horrifying. As explained by author Jonathan Zimmerman, sex education in America essentially amounts to a “smattering of information about [teens’] reproductive organs and a set of stern warnings about putting them to use.” Even in a very liberal state like California, where I grew up, all I remember from my younger days is a brief semester of health education where I was told the mechanics of sexual intercourse, shown a slide show of STI-riddled genitalia and then got to watch a live child birth on television which scarred me to this day. But I didn’t learn anything about gender identity or sexual orientation. I wasn't taught about the different types of contraception and preventative care available to women. I wasn’t told about sexual assault, misconduct or coercion. I never once heard the word “consent.”
And I’m sure I’m not the only one. We don’t equip young people with the information necessary to make the choice that’s right for them, mistakenly believing that they’ll refrain from such activity altogether.
In spite of this deficit of knowledge, 95 percent of Americans end up having premarital sex. According to the CDC, about half of Americans lose their virginity by age 17 (defined as penis-in-vagina intercourse, itself a problematic definition considering same-sex couples have sex differently, and other forms of sexual activity carry risks). Connecting it back to Duke, a slightly outdated study found that nearly 60 percent of incoming freshmen reported, they were still virgins while less than a quarter leave that way. Clearly people don’t refrain from sexual activity simply because they aren’t educated about it—they are only left unprepared and on their own to deal with all the complexities that come with making that decision. The ramifications of this are devastating—America has the highest rate of teen pregnancy in the developed world and adolescents account for nearly half of new STI cases each year.
We are fine objectifying and sexualizing bodies onscreen and in the media, but can’t seem to handle people—especially women—being sexual on their own. We have no problem bragging about sexual conquests, but how often do we talk about whether these hookups are enjoyable or even safe? We don’t talk about sex, not really. And that only makes conversations about sexual assault and rape culture that much more difficult to have. How can we breed a culture of consent if we refuse to discuss sex and sexuality in an honest, accurate and inclusive way?
Put simply, we need to get over our hang ups with sex. It’s there, it exists and failing to provide comprehensive sex education does a disservice to everyone. Duke can and should continue sponsoring events like One Sexy Week, but the conversation must extend beyond that and before we even arrive on campus. We can debate all we want about the best channels to distribute this type of information, but it is clear that adolescents deserve better than the current education system. Information for healthy relationships and decision-making should be available to all, separate from any sort of moralistic judgment. That is not the model we have today, but it is one from which we should remove the politics, and create.
Michelle Menchaca is a Trinity senior. Her column runs on alternate Wednesdays.
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