Abstinence is good, but isn’t reality
As the country spins out endless tales of the burial of one of America’s most hyper-sexualized icons, we keep struggling to save children from making her tragic mistakes.
Last week a new American Psychological Association report warned about the dangers linked to the sexualization of American girls. The more they see images of women and girls portrayed primarily as sex objects, the greater their risk for eating disorders, low self-esteem and depression.
It’s clear that when we market thongs, sexually explicit lyrics and a street-level raunchiness to girls, the psychological toll is high.
It’s a tragic irony that in a country that tries to promote values of equality and equal rights around the world, often castigating other countries for their oppression of women, we fail to see what we’re doing to our own daughters.
Too many of our discussions surrounding these issues wind up polarized.
This month, the Washington Legislature is considering a bill to require all public schools with sex education programs to go beyond simple “abstinence only” messages. Christian conservatives often see tactics such as “chastity rings” and abstinence vows as the best approach to preventing teen sexuality.
Liberals too often have wanted mainly to pass out condoms.
Now there appears to be a wiser philosophy integrating the two. Comprehensive sex education blends abstinence messages with other clear, science-based information on making responsible choices.
The short, sad life of Anna Nicole Smith illustrates how complex the issue can be. It’s hard to imagine that a firm abstinence-only sex education class in her small Texas high school would have prevented her from giving birth at age 19.
It’s doubtful that a just-say-no message would have altered her fate.
She was clearly a troubled young woman.
Her life might have been dramatically different had she grown up with a loving, responsible father. Failing that, would a sex education teacher with an abstinence message have filled the gaping hole in her heart? It’s hard to imagine.
A contraception expert could tell you that given that girl’s reality, she’d have been an excellent candidate for a birth-control patch or implant.
In the midst of public policy decisions, there are always loud voices that act as though every American classroom is filled with the kids of those happy, healthy idealized 1950s families.
But here’s the thing about the public schools: They educate everybody’s children. They educate future religious leaders and judges right alongside future Playboy bunnies and felons.
Wise, caring adults would prefer their teen children refrain from sex, yet we also know kids can deal with complex messages.
They hear them all the time. Don’t drink, we say, and if you do, don’t drink and drive. And never get in a car with someone who does.
Every public school in the state should deliver a similar message about sex: Don’t become sexually active in your teen years. But if you do, make sure you protect yourself and your partner against pregnancy and sexually transmitted disease.
Sadly, too many American girls measure themselves against the images of women like Anna Nicole Smith and Britney Spears. Given the pervasiveness of that influence, American students need the soundest sex education programs available.
Kids need to hear about condoms and birth-control pills, about shots and implants and patches. They need to hear about the aspects of human sexuality that pop culture actually does censor. They need, says author Jane D. Brown, to hear about the “three Cs”: commitment and love, contraception and consequences.
In the fantasy land of music videos, retail fashion and rapper lyrics, of course, those concepts never come up.
No wonder America still struggles with unacceptable rates of teen pregnancy.
The vast majority of Americans, according to polls, favor comprehensive sex education. A small minority prefers to put all our eggs in the abstinence basket.
It’s there, I fear, they’re so easily fertilized.