Let’s talk about sex! (…& shame)

“What’s long, hard, and full of seamen?”

I recall a boy in my Year 7 class asking me and my girlfriends this question. As we stared blankly at him, he enthusiastically responded, “A submarine!” He was disappointed by our lack of reaction, because we were still waiting for the punchline. I didn’t understand why it was funny. It actually seemed like a logical, factual statement rather than a joke. Defeated, he tried to explain the play on words, digging himself an even bigger hole as we simply had no idea what any of this meant. It wouldn’t be until two years later we received our first (and only) sex education. 

Of course, my trusty, private, Anglican school covered the most exciting topics: Pregnancy. Infections. Abstinence. Bananas and condoms.

That was about the extent of it. In fact, that description may be too generous. I remember they didn’t even have enough bananas for everyone to test out the johnny’s. 

The only assignment we were given required us to make a poster or video about sexually transmitted infections. Naturally, I made a rap song creatively paired with a colourful lyric video (which still exists in some dark corner of the internet) and my teachers called it a day! There’s a quiet assumption that the kids will figure out the rest on their own. They will stumble across a movie, hear it from a friend, or go searching for it themselves in the famously harmless world of internet pornography.

The danger is that, without a strong foundation in the classroom or at home, young people are left to piece together their understanding of sex and intimacy from fragmented and misleading content online. Before long, it becomes easy to fall into what I like to call the ‘should-shouldn’t cycle’. I should be having sex by this age. I should enjoy it and know what I’m doing. I shouldn’t have to tell someone what I like. I shouldn’t be curious about my own body. I shouldn’t look different from what I see online.

That’s quite a demoralising way to navigate a rather important aspect of the human experience, don't you think?

I was curious to hear more sex-ed stories (and secretly eager to continue criticising), so I turned to my girlfriends and asked what they remember being taught in high school:

“We had one course in year 6, the main things I learnt about were wet dreams and the vas deferens.”

“I remember having three classes total, having a few laughs when a vagina came on screen, but nothing about pleasure or how sex can be for fun.”

“There was no conversation. No one asked questions. There weren’t even basic demos on how to actually do it!”

“Don’t give anyone a cup of tea if they don’t consent.”

“They straight up told us not to have sex.”

But the one response that stuck out to me the most: “I didn't know about UTIs, yeast infections, or bacterial vaginosis until my friends or I had them. It got to the point where I had such a bad UTI it turned into a kidney infection. I learnt nothing about my own body and how to take care of it, or the risks that came from having sex that aren’t STIs/STDs.”

Throughout these brief conversations with my girlfriends, a sick feeling made itself comfy in the bed of my stomach. Suddenly the talk of sex doesn’t seem funny at all. We can continue to joke about how lame our education was or how awkward our first encounters were. But beneath the grimaces and giggles lay an uncomfortable truth: the gaps in our curriculum, and broader culture that shape it, are far more damaging than we realise.

So, I went down a bit of a rabbit hole of hidden conditions that we were never taught. If we focus on vulva owners specifically, 50% will experience a UTI in their life. Thrush will affect 75% of women at some point. Bacterial Vaginosis affects 1 in 3 women worldwide. During my research, I was learning about diagnoses I didn’t even know existed, and it just made me wonder how many people are suffering in silence? Buried in shame or embarrassment because no one is talking about it or teaching us that it’s common and normal! 

If we’re not taught what symptoms to look out for, or what tests to get done outside of routine STI screenings, or how to practise safe sex, how can we protect ourselves and our partners? All while allowing ourselves to indulge in pleasurable experiences?

Overwhelmed and frustrated, I decided to ring in an expert. Introducing… Sexual and Reproductive Health and Wellbeing Project Officer, Olivia Gray! She also happens to be a UOW Alumni and my very awesome friend. I asked her what she thinks needs to change and if we should be placing the blame on the nation’s current teaching models.

“On paper, sure, the framework and curriculum in Australian high schools are there; it is evidence based and informed by expert opinions,” she said.

“But we are not giving our teachers the right training and support to deliver Relationships and Sexuality Education (RSE) comprehensively.

“They’re given an immensely broad, complex, and often politically contentious, subject to teach and just hope they have the nuance and confidence to deliver it on top of everything they’re expected to do.”

She’s right. Our teachers are human at the end of the day. They have their own lived experience and biases that influence how they deliver this vulnerable topic, and they shouldn’t have to take sole responsibility for this issue. The same goes for our parents and carers who struggled to approach these concepts as we were growing up. For all I know, you (yes you, the person reading this right now) could’ve had a completely different experience to my friends and I. Perhaps you had an honest, thorough and enlightening sexual education, which is great! But I think every student deserves to have access to a regulated, standardised curriculum, regardless of which school they attend, or which teacher happens to be leading the class. Olivia goes on to say,

“We are seeing a huge generational gap, especially with the ever-changing online landscape,” she said.

“Lots of older Australians aren’t equipped to support the younger generations with their sexual health concerns and curiosity, and it just makes us repeat this cycle of sweeping these concerns under the rug because they feel too foreign, or difficult to deal with.”

We also must remember, sex-ed doesn’t end when we leave the classroom. It’s an ongoing process that’s influenced by our own individual experiences, environments and who we choose to surround ourselves with. Rather than only focusing on updating the curriculum, I think we first must examine our own attitudes towards sex and ask ourselves if shame is holding us back from openly discussing it. It’s okay if these conversations make you uncomfortable. As author Brenè Brown explains, “shame comes from outside of us - from the messages and expectations of our culture. What comes from the inside of us is a very human need to belong, to relate.” If you’re too embarrassed to ask questions or take yourself to a healthcare professional when something isn’t quite right, then it’s time to try and shift your mindset. 

Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t always been this comfortable talking about the birds and the bees. The fact that I’m even writing this article is a step outside my comfort zone. I’ve now written the word “sex” 26 times. While it might look confident on page, lucky for me, you can’t see my hesitation behind the keyboard. Growing up as the youngest on both sides of the family, I was sheltered from the ‘inappropriate’ information (which only made me more curious). Even though I grew up in a pretty open household, I still think it’s easy to get flustered when delving into these topics, no matter what age you are.

I’d say the biggest influence for me has been my girlfriends. Particularly since moving to Wollongong, I’ve acquired an extraordinary mix of people who I am lucky to consider my close pals. All who share the same questions, concerns, insights, and intrigues as me. We speak about everything, from our bodies and hygiene, to romance and sexual explorations, the same way we discuss what we should have for dinner. 

Over the past three years, since moving out of home, navigating university, and all the interpersonal complications that come with it, us girls have learnt to lean on one another. I’ve come home from dates and had debriefs so profound and genuine that it often feels more meaningful than the romantic experience itself. These heart-to-hearts have helped establish how we should be treated in relationships, discover more about ourselves, and generally made us feel a little less alone. 

I recognise that not everyone has this. But the secret is that it only takes one person to get the conversation started. The first step towards a more liberated relationship with sex begins in your living room, at the pub, or wherever you and your mates gather to catch up. 

Be the pioneer in your friend group and fight the prudish tendencies. Don't whisper. Avoid euphemisms where you can. Don’t feel like there’s something wrong with you for being curious. There is an incredible sense of relief in discovering that the questions you've been quietly carrying aren't yours alone. 

Whether it's talking with friends or communicating openly with a partner, these conversations can help us better understand ourselves, our boundaries and our needs. And if someone isn't willing to listen or contribute to that conversation, then they have a lot more unlearning to do. 

Of course, I'm not suggesting you shout your sexual desires from the rooftops or discuss your intimate concerns with your boss. But I challenge you to communicate your wants, needs, and worries with a little more confidence and a lot less shame. Allow your cheeks to turn red and your palms to get sweaty. Other symptoms may include knees weak, arms heavy. But, with time and practice, these conversations can become a little less daunting, making it easier to seek advice from a GP, access regular STI testing and take a more active role in your sexual health.

As Olivia said, “Young Australians need to understand that their sexual health is key to achieving good overall health and wellbeing. We are taught that without good mental health, your physical health will suffer alongside it, and the same can be said about our sexual health. If you have a toothache, you go to the dentist, if you have trouble getting an erection, you go to a sexual health nurse. It should be no biggie.”

While systematic change is needed, these personal conversations are a good place to start. We must remember that sex is as ugly as it is beautiful. It’s vulnerable and raw. It’s sometimes clumsy and weird and therefore intrinsically human. It’s time we start treating it that way.

If you have so graciously taken the time to read this entire piece, then I would like to offer you a little thank you gift. Here is a link to my aforementioned Year 9 STI rap. So, if you gained nothing else from this article, at least this can hopefully make you laugh.