Let’s Talk About Sex: It’s Hard

Ten years ago, if anyone had told me I would spend my days talking about sex, syphilis, and tech-based image abuse I would have laughed. It wasn’t so long ago that I couldn’t say “sex words”; instead saying words like hoo-ha or sha-na-na with a shoulder shimmy for emphasis in place of using the words vagina or sex.

However, a shift started to happen around that same time when someone close to me disclosed that they were HIV positive. It forced me to look at my view of the world to check my own bias and recalibrate my own perception of what risk really was.

Despite being one of the only children among my friend group to grow up in a sex-positive household, where information was readily shared and discussed, I fell into the same trap so many do. Which is to believe we are beyond risk and fall into the “That would never happen to me,” trap. It was this reckoning that sent me on the path to get my Master’s in Public Health and pursue my quest to end HIV.

I have learned, and still am learning, many lessons and being humbled. I now work as a public health educator at an STD/HIV clinic preaching the gospel of harm reduction and health equity. 

I remember entering grad school thinking that I could end rising STD rates if I could just give everyone condoms. How had no one thought of this before? Condoms are obviously THE answer. Right? Unfortunately, nothing is ever that simple. I was a well meaning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed academic, and with that, a bit out of touch.

Access isn’t the only barrier to condom use. Power dynamics, attitudes toward gender rules and norms, abuse, and the fact we don’t teach femmes to advocate for themselves during sex are just a few examples that impact condom use. This isn’t even to mention how sex education in schools usually revolves around abstinence and fear-based tactics that focus on things like condom failure rates rather than how they are an effective tool, when used correctly, to prevent STDs/HIV and pregnancy. 

Currently, the number of states that require sex education to be medically accurate is 17. You read that number right. Only 17 of the 39 states, plus DC, that mandate some form of sexual education and/or HIV education require it to be medically accurate. Furthermore, even though sex education is mandated in 39 states, abstinence-only is still considered sex education despite it being proven not to work. Telling people not to do something rarely works, as fear and shame are not successful in preventing a behavior, especially long term. 

Even though I knew that telling people not to do something doesn’t work, I remember vividly the moment that shifted my entire approach to talking about sexual health:

I was presenting to a group of adolescent boys in an after school program. One of the program staff asked me “Tell them why they shouldn’t Double-D,” which then required the follow-up from me asking what exactly does Double-D mean in this instance.

I was then informed that “Double-D-ing” is where a person with a penis will have sex with as many people as they can over several days, if not weeks, without washing their genitals in-between partners, to see how far they can get.

Now, like I said, I am not typically the type of person who says “don’t do that”. I am more of a harm-reduction gal where I talk with folks to see what options seem possible and sustainable to them, rather than telling them what to do, but this time I was so caught off guard that all I could think to say was “DON'T DO THAT!!” as they all high fived, snickered, and bragged. 

I had to stop and check myself. I entered that presentation thinking I knew what they needed to know, so I went in there and talked at them about safer sex and STDS. I failed to meet them where they were. Learning about STDs/HIV, risk, and safer sex practices may be important, however, there are plenty of other things that are as well.

We can think we know what’s best for others and tell them what they should or shouldn’t be doing, but if we don’t meet them where they are, see what is important to them, and what they think feels doable, what we want doesn’t really matter.

In my example, these boys were in a court mandated after-school program and were dealing with homelessness, food insecurity, violence in their homes or neighborhoods, legal issues, and/or systemic racism. Something like chlamydia is going to take a back seat when the consequences seem trivial in comparison. 

I may still preach my gospel of harm reduction and health equity, but I do a lot more listening these days too. People make their own choices, all I can do is meet people where they are. If I commit myself to listen, connect them to resources, let them know what risks they are taking—I’m planting that first or 50th seed that might take root and lead them toward making safer choices, and that is enough. 

NOTE FROM THE EDITOR:

BeLinda is joining our Masthead as a regular contributor! Starting with her next feature, she wants to hear your SEX RELATED QUESTIONS and talk about or address them.

You can ANONYMOUSLY send your questions to her here: Ask Belinda