The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Saturday
‘What a man’s body looks like’
For most of my teenage years, I pictured a penis to be the size of one you’d find on an ancient Greek statue (tiny). Needless to say, it was a shock when I finally saw one in the flesh in my first year at university.
I had no idea what to expect. I had never seen a photo of a penis and, even after my school’s condom-on-apenis-model demonstration in Year 11, I assumed the model had been enlarged for educational purposes. Looking back now, this is just one example of how my sex education did not prepare me for the Real World.
Going to an all-girls’ grammar school, sex was an enigma – and most of my knowledge was based on overheard snippets of explicit conversations from boys on the bus (that was where I learnt about oral sex) and from the one experienced girl in your class (that was where I learnt some factually inaccurate information about hymens). I would have benefited from seeing what a “typical” naked body looks like (and, no, those photos of genitals covered in herpes don’t count), and to have learnt about different contraceptives aside from condoms. It would have saved me a lot of time on Google.
But sex education should be about more than the technicalities. In particular, I wish I had been taught about sex positivity – that sex is enjoyable, rather than shameful. There is a particular pressure on girls to “lose their virginity” (a horribly passive term) to the right person at the right time, or else risk being seen as either “slutty” or “frigid”. I wish my school had addressed and perhaps explained this stigma, and taught us that girls have as much right to go out and actually enjoy having sex as the boys at the nearby school, who had no qualms talking in depth about their sexual experiences at house parties.
As part of my fantasy, empowering “girl power” sex ed, where we learn about the joy of orgasms, there’s a key point we can’t overlook: consent. In the past few weeks, much has been said about how young boys need to learn about consent. I wholeheartedly agree, but girls also need a thorough education in consent and boundaries, too. In particular, sexual coercion – where a person pressures their partner to do something that they do not want to do – is rife, and yet, because it is not spoken about, it is harder for those who experience it to understand that it is wrong. All teenagers should learn that there is no grey area, that no always means no. Better to learn that in the classroom than in real life. to come to us when something is up.”
Her worries about children not being taught adequately are backed up by the statistics. According to evidence presented to the Commons women and equalities select committee, 40 per cent of schools were found to have inadequate teaching provision in this area; in secondary schools, only 3 per cent of teachers felt confident to teach sex and relationships education.
Young people are crying out for more support; they know the gist of what they are missing. They see it online: in gaming, on porn sites, Bridgerton even.
The result of such ignorance is obvious. It’s there in the way young men are being called out or the toxic “rape culture” present in many schools, for the way “nudes” (self-taken photos) are demanded and shared as currency, the stories of forced oral and anal sex at teenage parties, the slut-shaming and the homophobia. It would be way too easy to pass the blame for these behaviours on to the teens involved. But the guilt should be all ours: how have we let this culture develop and thrive?
Thankfully, there is talk of an independent inquiry, called for by Robert Halfon, the chairman of the Commons education select committee, who has criticised senior school staff for being more worried about “woke” issues than the “welfare of students”. The situation will get better, parents are promised, not least by the fact that the Personal, Social, Health and Economic (PHSE) curriculum has been updated – the first time for 20 years. The new curriculum was supposed to be introduced in September but was delayed by the effects of the Covid-related school closures.
It has a lot of ground to cover. Since 2001, for example, we’ve had the explosion of nudes and sexting which started around 2005 with the spread of camera phones and accelerated in 2011 after the image-sharing app Snapchat was set up.
There is one issue with the new guidance: PHSE is part of the national curriculum, but not entirely compulsory. The relationship part (how we relate to family and friends) must be taught, along with the science bits (reproduction), but you can opt out of the sex lessons. So while the classes may ensure your child is up to date with the latest knowledge, what use is that if your neighbour’s child learns about the birds and bees from watching Love Island?
While my own preference is towards compulsory sex education, I understand that others feel they can teach this best at home. In which case, it’s worth asking what we should make sure young people learn. Is there still room for condoms and bananas or should we be following the Friends curriculum? What is the modern equivalent of Our Bodies, Ourselves? Or should we listen to young people if we want to know the realities of what is missing in their education? After all, they are the ones on this particular front line.