A councilman. The youth summit. And me.

Loud voices collided on the other side of the closed door, where Councilman Dwight Boykins was addressing another group of students in a hotel ballroom in Westchase. My group, which had just been meeting with Mayor Sylvester Turner, was told to hang back, but some curious students leaned into the wooden door, as if holding cups to their ears, trying to make out what was going on.

One of the adults directing us told another, “He’s going to be mad if another big group walks in.”

I wondered why the councilman would be mad, since he was there to talk to us. I was one of more than 80 students who had gathered, mostly people of color from the Houston area, for the annual Youth Advocacy Summit. For me, a 17-year-old student at St. Agnes Academy, it was a chance to get insight on real-world issues and ideas on how to advocate for solutions in my own community.

The highlight of the week was meeting several candidates for local office and getting to question some running for mayor. We were waiting to question Boykins when we heard the commotion.

Finally, we were allowed to go in and told to sit quietly in back.

Tension hung heavy in the cold air. Girls glanced around anxiously. Boys sat in silence, shock and embarrassment on their faces.

Boykins seemed to be trying to rectify a crude comment that had offended some students. I later learned from other students that the councilman had advised the girls to keep their “legs closed” in romantic relationships and, at one point, he had called a girl to the front, awkwardly embracing her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable.

Facing us, Boykins’ tone and facial expressions seemed more defensive than apologetic. Whispers permeated the air. A group near me muttered that they wanted to respond but weren’t sure how.

Neither did I. Boykins’ inartful remark, an apparent attempt to relate to youth in the room, had backfired. The organizers of the event seemed to miss opportunities to intervene. And though I thought I understood what Boykins was trying to say, his attempts to explain didn’t seem to bridge any gaps.

Suddenly, a girl sprung up, telling Boykins, “If comments have to be tailored (to be appropriate), there’s a problem.” Her message was clear: This was not the way to speak to students, nor was his comment responsive to the actual questions students had asked. The girl also seemed to object to the councilman’s earlier embrace of the student, telling him, “Actions speak louder than words.”

Her message was powerful, yet it seemed her emotion muffled her meaning.

Another student joined the conversation, telling Boykins, “You are not a woman. You will never be a woman,” which only seemed to add gasoline to the fire. Boykins offered another stuttered response.

The emotion on all sides kept Boykins and the students from hearing each other — a common problem in American discourse these days.

But more than anything, it was Boykins’ choice of words that rang in my ears: Legs closed?!

It’s not that the subject matter itself was taboo. Of course, we teenagers benefit from real world examples of how sex can complicate lives and get in the way of priorities such as education and career goals.

But it was shocking to me, in this post#MeToo era, that Boykins had delved into such a sensitive subject headfirst, apparently without much forethought. He oversimplified the issue of premarital sex by placing moral responsibility solely on the shoulders of girls. He never acknowledged boys’ role in the equation.

The words seemed sexist and antiquated — completely inappropriate in 2019, especially for someone vying to lead the fourthlargest city in the nation.

No public official should shy away from discussing sensitive issues with young people. The risks of unsafe sex and promiscuity are real, and many of us can benefit from the older generation’s personal experiences. But there’s an appropriate way to address those issues: sans casting blame; without degrading youth, particularly women; and with respect.

Students should not be responsible for teaching elected officials how to talk about sensitive topics.

Last week, I contacted Boykins to get his take on the incident. He declined comment, wishing me luck in my studies but saying he wanted attention to the episode to “die down.”

That’s understandable. But I hope he, as a public official setting an example for Houston’s youth, understands that those comments sent the wrong message.

He didn’t get far trying to be cool and off-the-cuff. Kids aren’t so different from adults: Respect goes a long way.