Posts Tagged ‘my pre teen self’

  1. Sex Education; is it really working?

    August 21, 2012 by Jenni

    Image from communiststudents.org.uk of all places

    For a while I have wondered why if the sex education system in the UK is relatively good (compared to some) we have so many  teenage pregnancies. I’ve always assumed that these kids just haven’t bothered to use any form of protection, rather than simply not knowing enough about it to help.
    Personally, I’ve never felt inadequately prepared after sex education. Perhaps this is because I was a bit of a geek and liked to actually listen to authority figures when they spoke, perhaps it’s because I started thinking about it from a youngish age or perhaps it’s because I had the helpful insights  of  The Period Book’ to introduce me to puberty and all its joys.

    Memories of my sex-ed experience include when we got to chapter 7 (Reproduction!) in the science textbooks we were allowed to move from our boy-girl seating plan and sit where-ever we liked(!) which I’m sure was more interesting than the anatomy of a penis/vagina. I remember the school nurse telling us about how the ‘clinic in town did some lovely passion-fruit flavoured condoms’ and everyone  thinking “EWEWEWEWEW!” at the thought of our slightly overweight middle-aged nurse STILL HAVING SEX. I have a horribly accurate memory of being in college studying reproduction/fertility and having to watch that video where someone thought it would be a good idea to put a camera on some poor woman’s cervix and film her being ejaculated into by, what was at the time, a giant wide-screen penis. This definitely just felt like far too much information. Especially when it also went on to show the same woman giving birth in graphic detail too. I feel so sorry for that kid-teenagers across the country have watched their conception/birth whilst squirming in their seats and trying not to look.

    However, I digress. The sex-ed I got at school certainly gave me enough information to choose what I would like to happen to my own body when I needed contraception myself. I knew the different choices and that some suited other people better than others and, possibly more importantly, that I would never feel safe having sex with only a condom between me and an unwanted pregnancy. Now, of course, I am a lot more clued up, but I did OK then too.

    Having talked to friends and read a couple of blogs on the subject (over at the Vagenda) it seems that this is not the case with everyone. Friends who went to more religious schools than mine were basically taught not to have sex rather than how to protect themselves. Another friend said “If you hadn’t got pregnant by year 8/9 in my school you were in the minority.” This is clearly a MASSIVE FAILING. (And more worryingly still is-1 in 4 pupils apparently still receive little to no sex ed at all.The way people view it also needs to be changed-it’s not stripping kids of their innocence and it’s not more likely to make them go out and start having sex with everything.  Even if it does, they would do so armed with greater knowledge about contraception and keeping themselves safe, how can this be a bad thing?

    Kids need an open and frank discussion about sex because they’re so curious and there’s not a lot of places they can get answers from that aren’t going to potentially do them harm. Kids need to be taught more than just the ins and outs of sex too. They need to be taught that straight, gay, bisexual and transgendered people are all normal, plus all the other inbetweens. They need to know that there is a whole spectrum of relationships they can have and that not all of them boil down to which part goes in who and where. They need to be encouraged to explore the emotions surrounding sex-they need to be told that sex and love often get tangled up in complicated ways (and that’s fine!) but that sex doesn’t always equal love.

    They need to be shown that it’s not about gaining notches in the bedpost but a shared experience between two consenting people that they should only enter into when their emotions are ready as well as their bodies. They need to be told that wanking won’t make you go blind and yes, girls can get in on the action too. The need to know that they shouldn’t have a baby without being emotionally, financially and physically ready for it, and that if they’re not any of those things they should be given advice on abortion and why it doesn’t make you a murderer or any less of a person if that’s your decision. They should be told that if you choose to sleep with lots of people it doesn’t make you a “slag” or a “stud” and that everyone’s sexual experiences are different and that is definitely OK. And they should be given details on all types of contraception as a mandatory thing. These kids can be in charge of their own futures but only if they’re given all the information to begin with.

    It’s obvious kids need more information to get a proper handle on the big issues of SEX AND RELATIONSHIPS and it’s obvious that not many people who are in charge seem to care about this. Television shows like Channel 4′s The Sex Education Show have been trying to make people more aware about these issues and it’s a start, albeit a slow one. I’ve signed this petition because I think every little bit helps.

    Let’s encourage our kids to grow up to enjoy sex, but enjoy it responsibly with a full grasp of all the things they need to know about it first.

    It’s time to stand up for Sex Education, who’s with me?

    Jenni (@circlethinker) is a science geek, a theatre aficionado (both on and off the stage), and a big fan of socks. She’s in her early twenties and recently finished up a Biomedical Science degree at Sheffield. Jenni has a lovely blog over here (where this post first appeared) and you can find her on Twitter right here


  2. The stuff that would have blown my pre teen mind…

    February 9, 2012 by @NotRollergirl

    Photo from Exploringthefaith.com

    I hit my teens in 1998. The people who were being born when I started being a teenager are now teenagers themselves! Amazing, non? When I was going-on-thirteen I believed that jet packs would probably be commercially available by the time I was a grown up. I’m waiting on that one, but some of these post teen discoveries and inventions are just as awesome…

    iTunes

    When we were young, my sisters and I spent a lot of time getting carpet burn on our chins. We’d lie on our stomachs, each with an ear pressed against the speaker of the double tape deck hi-fi I got for my tenth birthday. (The top loading CD player made me feel VERY glamorous.) With two fingers hovering over play and record, a layer of hard plastic between me and the upside down D90, we’d jam the buttons down whenever Steve Lamacq or John Peel or Mark Goodier promised to play something we wanted to hear. Sometimes we’d spend up to an hour on our chins, waiting. We’d adopt a similar pose for the whole of the Saturday morning Chart Show, or at least as long as we could manage before we were chased away to do something middle class like piano practice or, erm, croquet. (“But it’s a lovely day outside!”) We were, as only bored and overly imaginative pre teens can be, dementedly passionate about music and obsessed with everyone from Marillion to Mariah. And when the new Now 30-something came out, we’d rush out with our £17.99 (which is quite a lot of money when you’re 10) and rush home with our purchase, feeling slightly resentful that the track listing featured 14 minute mix of ATB’s 9PM (‘Til I Come) when I was hoping for the unlikely inclusion of some Elastica. (Thanks, Video Vault.

    “Imagine”, we used to say to each other dreamily, painting our nails with a sixth layer of 17 Nail Polish in Clear Sparkle. “Imagine one day, going into a magic booth and making your own Now CD – but being able to choose ANY SONG IN THE WORLD! Truly, that would be amazing. Maybe, when we’re really, really old, like 35, they might have invented something.”

    It still blows my mind that I can sit at my desk and put together a mix tape with the Ramones and Britney and Blackstreet and Sonic Youth and WALK AROUND AT LUNCHTIME LISTENING TO IT. Although I do miss hearing John Peel’s voice before a song starts.

    You can just ask people out!

    I wasn’t the best feminist as a child. One of my oddest fears was a premature terror that no-one would ever want to marry me. When Aurora’s betrothal was making her angsty in Sleeping Beauty, I didn’t get it at all. “She knew who she was marrying when she was born! It’s all taken care of! Lucky bitch” I thought. I was the gold standard for The Unfanciable in the playground. I still fret about a fairly depressing moment in Mrs Kemp’s class when I had been sat at a table of naughty boys in order to set them a good, calming example. I was the subject of a conversation I was not participating in about whether the naughty boys would sleep with me for a million pounds. The general consensus was no, they wouldn’t, with the exception of Adam Zwonkner who squinted at me appraisingly and said “well, maybe for a million…” Fair play – it was a lot of money in 1995. (For the record, Adam was a good 14 inches shorter than me and looked a little bit like Quasimodo’s gargoyle mate Hugo.)

    If they can invent the amazing machine that lets you listen to all the music in the world, how about time travel? I’d love to go back and tell that shy, anxious, underconfident little girl some true ass shit. That being too tall and too clever for her own good would have a massive pay off in years to come. That she will survive and reach her teens and twenties and go on dates and have boyfriends – and that will sometimes be awesome and sometimes be awful, but she will be desired. And that being desired is WAY less important than feeling it. That she will have the confidence to talk and flirt with guys she meets in bars, at parties, through friends – and they won’t be freaked out at all. They will be thrilled. And that there will come a time when, as an adult, she could walk into a room containing all the grown up naughty boys – and given the opportunity, they would pay a million pounds to sleep with her – or at least pony up for a fancy dinner. (Not that she couldn’t pay for her own dinner, or has to sleep with anyone who buys her dinner. Although I usually do. ANYWAY).

    Discovering I had pulling powers that wouldn’t get me laughed out of a pub felt as sudden and magical as waking up and discovering I’d become fluent in Mandarin in the night. I still can’t quite believe you don’t need a B Tech diploma and a special helmet to get a snog. You just ask. Truly mindblowing.

    Not everything you wear should remind everyone about your vagina

     My first foray into fashion, or “being very bothered about how I looked and spending what little disposable income I had in Topshop” was alarming. I did not have an innate sense of style. It was a time of cropped things and crotches. Sickly sweet scented glitter rollerballed across a barely emerged cleavage. (Yeah, you could get glitter in roll on form, like deodorant. Why?) Everything was bright and stretchy and logo’d. I had a fetish for expensive things that looked very cheap – especially if they had the name of the shop they came from spelled out in sparkly crystals. When it came to putting clothes on, my spirit animals were Lolo Ferrari, Flavor Flav and Emily Howard. Everything needed to be pink and shimmery and gold and silver and furry and lacy and pretty and sexy – because otherwise people wouldn’t know I was female! What if someone looked at me AND WASN’T IMMEDIATELY AWARE OF MY FANNY?! Quelle horreur! Best get it out and show them so they’re not in the dark for one single second.

    I still think that being a woman and dressing like a madly enthusiastic post modernist drag queen is ace, but if you’d told me fifteen years ago that you could look like a woman even when your knees are covered, that grey and blue are not ‘boring boys’ colours’ and that when I got to choose my own underwear I would not opt for a thong every single day (because there is precious little that is grown up or hot about having a thin strip of polycotton wedged slicingly near your anus) I would have said “Muuuuuuuuuuuuum! Shurrup!” But there it is. So, dear Daisy from 1997, get out of Jane Norman. Walk away from the Lucite heels. You’d be better off in a floor length hooded sweatshirt embroidered with the words “Hiiiiiiii! I HAVE A VAGINA!”

    Girl Power is bollocks

    In the nineties, my personal feminist revolution was interfered with in a most unsavoury way. I’d discovered Hole (and spent a lot of time on my chin taping the Live Through This CD I’d borrowed from the library). Courtney Love captured my heart like the Sexy Mad Banshee Empress of Emo she is, and slooooowly I was finding out about other important people like Kim Gordon and Kathleen Hanna and Nico and Patti Smith. I was patiently frowning my way through bits of Germaine Greer and obsessed with Camille Paglia’s drag queen essay and Gloria Steinem’s Playboy Club expose (although I sort of wanted to be a sexy grown up lady in fishnets and a little tail too.) Then FIVE VERY LOUD GIRLS were on Newsround, flashing bewilderingly toned midriffs and lime green lycra’d boobs, banging on about Girl Power. Our parents hated them, so obviously I was instantly captivated. They had the confidence of my other idols, but it seemed…hollow. What was Girl Power? It seemed to be about flashing your knickers and Thatcher. And how come the fanciable one was the infantillised Baby and nobody wanted to be Sporty because she was probably a lesbian?

    Now I know that Girl Power is, like most marketing slogans, a lie. It has about as much emotional resonance as “oooh, Danone!” It’s a vague, cheerful thing to shout and jiggle to. And although personally and irrationally, I’d tell Angelina to fuck off out of it I’m never going to tell anyone that they can’t join the Sisterhood. I’m sure La Beckham, Geri and both Mels are lovely and feminist. (Emma Bunton definitely is – a friend of a friend knows her a bit and says she’s dead nice.) But pioneers of nineties pre adolescent feminism? Oh, hell no. If you’re going to shout about something quite so noisily you need to do something to back it up as well as just jiggling.

    @NotRollergirl is a funny funny lady. You can follow her on Twitter (recommended for daily giggles) or check out her excellent work on Sabotage Times.