How Am I Supposed to Protect My Children?
Sometimes, it feels as if we have no control over the safety of our kids.
CW: Sexual Assault, Emotional and Sexual Abuse
When I was 19, I was in a relationship with someone who was six years older than me. Concerned, my mother sat me down for “the sex talk,” the first we’d ever had. “He’ll probably want to have sex,” she said. “Just promise me you’ll wait until we can get you on birth control.”
I was befuddled. My parents had taught me that you didn’t have sex until marriage, and I’d always taken it for granted that that’s how things would go. Besides, I didn’t feel ready for sex. I wasn’t even interested.
Naturally, my boyfriend forced himself upon me not even a week later. I thought I loved him, so I stayed with him. We were together for under a year but, because he was emotionally and sexually abusive, I’ve lived with the impact of that short relationship my entire life.
I wrote about all of this in my book, A Dirty Word, which came out in 2018. Before it came out, though, I shared an advance copy with my mom. After reading it, she called me on the phone. “I had no idea all those things happened,” she said. “I can’t help blaming myself.”
I told her not to blame herself. I told her I didn’t blame her. Which was true. I don’t. But would things have been different for me if we’d had shame-free conversations about body autonomy and sexual rights throughout my childhood?
I think they might have been, and I know that I want better for my child.
***
Last night, I had a conversation with my mom friends about two incidences of sexual misconduct / assault that occurred at the school our children attended. (Well, two of which we were aware.) In both cases, the allegations had been met with skepticism from teachers and school administrators. The alleged perpetrators had faced zero repercussions. The stories themselves? Swept under the rug, nothing more than a whispered tale among a handful of horrified parents.
Is it any wonder my friends felt so scared and helpless?
“How are we supposed to protect our children?” one friend demanded, her voice shaking with anger and disgust. “What are we supposed to do!?”
About a decade ago, a large amount of my journalism work was in the area of sexual violence. This work led directly to my present-day focus on sexuality education. At some point (as I wrote in a piece for The Atlantic), I became convinced that rape culture could begin to be dismantled if only we embraced early childhood sexuality education. Only in that way could we begin to create the scaffolding that might lead to later lessons on bodily autonomy, mutual respect, and consent. Only in that way could we nip problems like toxic masculinity and the objectification of women’s bodies in the bud.
The research bears me out. Multiple studies show that children who talk to their trusted adults about sexuality, puberty, and relationships are more likely to delay sexual activity and are less likely to be victimized.
The most recent paper on the topic came in the form of a literature review of three decades' worth of research on school-based sex ed programs, which found that, overwhelmingly, comprehensive sex ed leads to (among other things) the prevention of dating and intimate partner violence and the prevention of child sex abuse. Why? The paper lists out a whole slew of things kids learn in sex ed that can protect them throughout their lives. Among them are:
reduction in rape myths, victim blaming, and sexist attitudes
reduced acceptance of sexual coercion
a sense of body ownership and children's right to control their bodies
increased skills in communication and self-protection
knowledge of appropriate and inappropriate touch
knowledge of what to do in an inappropriate situation
increased knowledge and skill to identify unsafe situations
Of course, the path to creating systemic change—change in which all children have access to comprehensive and inclusive sexuality education, and in which victims of sexual violence are not revictimized when they seek justice—is frustratingly long and slow.
Which is why, in response to my friend’s question, I told her that the best thing we could do was educate our children. Prepare them for a world in which dangers such as this persist.
It felt like such an inadequate response. After all, it puts the onus of responsibility on those who feel unsafe.
But in that moment, it was all I had.
***
As a book nerd, books are my primary teaching tools. The books about body boundaries and consent that have most resonated for my child are Kimberly King, Zack King, and Sue Rama's I Said No! A Kid-to-kid Guide to Keeping Private Parts Private, Rachel Brian's Consent (for Kids!): Boundaries, Respect, and Being in Charge of You, and Jill Starishevsky and Angela Padrón's My Body Belongs to Me: A Book about Body Safety. I also can’t wait to share with her Cory Silverberg and Fiona Smyth’s You Know, Sex: Bodies, Gender, Puberty, and Other Things, which has all the information kids need to relate to other human beings in a way that is loving and respectful.
But if these don’t work for you, there are so many other books out there that tackle this topic. I list a good number of them on Guerrilla Sex Ed.
If you yourself want to know more about the glaring inadequacy of schools and the criminal justice system when it comes to sexual violence, I often recommend Jon Krakauer’s Missoula, Alexandra Brodsky’s Sexual Justice, and Chanel Miller’s Know My Name (that last title is such a gift of a book, upsetting as it is).
And for another book that tackles the hard road to justice for victims of sexual violence and harassment, but which also shows how one group of professionals are still meeting that challenge head-on, Carrie Goldberg’s Nobody’s Victim was an infuriating—yet still somehow hopeful—read.
I won’t lie. These books are depressing as hell. But I believe it’s important to be aware of what we’re up against. It’s this awareness that fuels my own passion for sex ed advocacy. Perhaps it will give you, too, the motivation you need to start your own conversations about sex at home, awkward as they may be.
And however you’re feeling about all of this—frustrated, enraged, disgusted, scared—know that I’m right there with you.
For those educators who are reading along, I have a session coming up as part of the Sex Ed Lecture Series on Cultivating Sex-Positive Parents.
This virtual presentation takes place Wednesday, August 16, 7-8 p.m. EST, and registration costs $30. My goal with this session is to share with educators how we might show parents and other caregivers the importance of being active participants in their kids’ sex education and, if they’re already sold on that idea, how we might help them feel more comfortable taking on that role.
Great newsletter Steph!