We all know the most commonly used gender pronouns: she/her and he/him—they refer to a person assigned either male or female at birth, and who continues to identify that way later in life. But there’s another term that’s used to refer to those who continue to identify with the gender they were assigned at birth: cisgender. Here’s what you need to know about that term, including how it compares to sexual orientation, and when (or if) you should use it.
What does cisgender mean?
Cisgender—technically pronounced “sis-gender”—refers to “individuals whose assigned sex at birth is congruent with their gender identity, Christy L. Olezeski, PhD, director of Yale Medicine’s Gender Program, tells Health. The prefix “cis” is actually Latin for “on this side,” according to Merriam-Webster. “Trans,” on the other hand—as in transgender—technically means “on the other side of.
A person assigned female at birth, for example—meaning doctors saw female sex organs or genitalia—and who still identifies as a woman today, is cisgender. The same goes for a person assigned male at birth who currently identifies as a man.
According to Transgender Studies Quarterly, the term was initially created by transgender activists in the 1990s in order to differentiate between cisgender and transgender individuals, without further adding to the marginalization of trans people. “The terms man and woman, left unmarked, tend to normalize cisness—reinforcing the unstated ‘naturalness’ of being cisgender,” the text says, suggesting rather to use identifications like “cis man or “cis woman” alongside “transman” and transwoman.”
It’s important to know, however, that there is a bit of controversy around the term. “Some folx would argue that we should use the term cis- or trans- any time we are identifying people,” Olezeski says. However, “some folx would argue that we should not identify anyone using these, and should instead just identify folx as men, women or non-binary/gender expansive or agender.”
What’s the difference between cisgender and straight?
It’s important to know that gender identity and sexual orientation are two different things. Plainly speaking, gender identity is how someone identifies, and sexual orientation refers to who someone is attracted to. “As someone once said, gender identity is who you go to bed as, while sexual orientation is who you want to go to bed with,” Olezeski says.
That means those who identify as cisgender can fall anywhere on the sexuality spectrum—gay, straight, bisexual, etc.—just as anyone who is transgender, too, can identify with any sexual orientation.
What is cisgender privilege, and how can you work against it?
In an article published in the Journal of International and Intercultural Communication, Julia R. Johnson, PhD, explains that “cisgender privilege is given to persons whose morphology aligns with socially-sanctioned gender categories.” It has been well established that those who do not identify as cisgender—namely transgender people—experience discrimination on many levels.
Johnson’s article outlines a few different examples of what cisgender privilege can look like: “Some forms of cisgender privilege include: Having a government-issued identification that accurately represents one’s identity; not being ‘‘asked . . . what my genitals look like, or whether or not my breasts are real, what medical procedures I have had’’; not being forced ‘‘to adopt a different gender presentation’’ or denied medical care; or being refused ‘‘access to, and fair treatment within, sex segregated facilities’’ such as bathrooms, homeless shelters, prisons, and domestic violence shelters.”
In order to confront our own cisgender privileges—and therefore become a transgender ally, or cisgender person working to fight for the rights of the transgender community—Johnson argues that we have to examine not only our own interactions and relationships, but also structural dynamics used to continue the oppression of transgender individuals.
It’s also essential to educate yourself regarding issues that those in the transgender community face, to speak up against comments or actions that marginalize trans people, and to always remember to use someone’s appropriate pronouns, since trans people are often either misgendered or deadnamed (if you’re not sure how to do this, the easiest way is to share your own pronouns and ask for theirs).
Over half of colleges and universities across the country are planning on fully remote or hybrid semesters this school year, leaving students who rely on their school’s free or low-cost sexual health services in a temporary health desert. Even at schools that plan to reopen for on-campus instruction, their health centers may be closed or operating at reduced capacity.
During a normal year, sexuality is one of the major health realms that get attention in higher ed (at least from campus wellness departments). But as a result of pandemic-induced budget cuts, many institutions have laid off or furloughed employees, straining already small health and wellness departments. Meanwhile, the burden of planning for COVID-19 safety may have fallen to health promotion staff, leaving them with little capacity for other health promotion work.
Attention is rightly focused on COVID-19, but sexual health is an essential part of that strategy.
COVID-19 has been found in fecal matter, which means anal play (especially analingus) is considered risky for COVID-19 transmission. Some recent studies have shown that the virus may also be present in semen, which raises further questions about whether it can be sexually transmitted. And, of course, sex generally involves heavy breathing, close contact, and saliva—all of which make transmission of COVID-19 easier.
Any type of partnered sex during the pandemic is risky. But while encouraging students to engage in solo sex rather than partnered sex is great, know that students are still going to be having partnered sex—and not just with longtime partners.
No level of social distancing guidelines or disciplinary measures will keep students from having sex—that isn’t realistic. So instead of going the abstinence-until-the-pandemic-is-over route, here are four practical ways educators can support student sexual health.
Stock up on barrier methods
If campus is reopening and you’re preparing for how you’ll distribute masks and hand sanitizer to your students, make barrier methods widely available, too.
Most college campuses usually have some number of free condoms (and, on occasion, dental dams) available to students. Stockpile a larger supply than you usually do and consider it a form of personal protective equipment.
If your health center is closed or operating at reduced capacity, sexually transmitted infection (STI) testing may be more difficult to access. By making barrier methods more widely available, you’re helping to slow the transmission of STIs, too.
Student leaders can apply for Advocates for Youth’s Condom Collective, and if accepted, they’ll be sent 500 condoms to distribute on campus. Staff members can purchase discounted external condoms, dental dams, and other sexual health products by signing up for a nonprofit account with a company like Global Protection Corp. (the maker of ONE Condoms).
Students and staff alike can also reach out to their local health department, HIV and AIDS advocacy organization, or Planned Parenthood affiliate for barrier methods.
If you typically make barrier methods available by leaving them in communal bowls so students can anonymously grab them, you’ll need to reconsider your methods. Some campuses offer free barrier method delivery to students’ mailboxes—check out CHOICE at Vassar for some inspiration.
Use programs strategically (and don’t be afraid to experiment)
Higher education professionals are well-prepared to host self-care programs—they likely already make up a significant part of the wellness calendar. During the pandemic, that can be expanded even further.
Students will be more isolated than usual, so set aside time to come up with strategic virtual or socially distant programming that can help ease loneliness, stress, and physical discomfort. Livestreamed fitness classes and workshops can give students a task to focus on that promotes pandemic safety as well as their physical and mental health.
Sexual health programming is one component of this. Solo sex is the least risky type of sex (both during the pandemic and in general) so consider virtual workshops that help destigmatize masturbation, emphasize effective communication, or—more broadly—teach students the sex ed they probably didn’t get in high school.
If you plan to distribute barrier methods, consider creating digital programs that can educate students on how to properly use them and what types of sex acts they can be used for. Students may not think about using a barrier method for oral sex most of the time, but health promotion campaigns can help them understand why they should consider it during the pandemic.
Remember that sexual health services are essential
Abortions and preventive care are both harder to access during the pandemic, so think about how your students’ sexual health concerns could be amplified as a result of COVID-19.
If your campus wellness center isn’t able to accommodate common sexual health appointments like STI testing or prescriptions for PrEP, birth control, emergency contraception, gender-affirming hormones, and STI treatments, you can make resources available to educate students on what other options are available to them.
Perhaps you book the mobile STI testing unit for twice as many visits as you normally do, so students can still get quick testing while not crowding together outside the bus (and so the testing staff can sanitize).
You could partner with a telehealth provider to complete appointments virtually. Or look toward telehealth sexual wellness services (like Nurx) to provide students with the services they need. If your campus is fully or mostly remote this semester, send your students information about where they can get free HIV and STI tests. You can even add the Center for Disease Control and Prevention’s testing locator to your website.
Figure out where the gaps are and how you might be able to fill them. You won’t have the capacity to completely fill all of the gaps, but providing students with options and information is necessary.
Leave shame out of it
If you’re in a position where you’ll have to discipline students who aren’t abiding by the COVID-19 guidelines your campus has adopted, you’ll likely soon be feeling a lot of frustration. Most students are going to be following those guidelines to the best of their ability, but the reality is that not everyone will.
So take the sex ed approach: Shame doesn’t do anyone any good. Shaming someone for their behavior just makes them more likely to hide or lie about what they’re doing.
Being on campus during the pandemic is risky—that’s just the reality. Our pandemic precautions might reduce that potential risk (by limiting social gatherings, pushing classes online, and changing how common spaces operate), but ultimately, risk will still be there. So add in a harm reduction approach, too.
Instead of punishing the students you come across making out in the student union, have a conversation about role modeling and respecting their classmates’ comfort. Make sure they have access to the health services and barrier methods they need.
Leaving shame and judgment out of the equation can be uncomfortable for many people—especially when tensions are already high and patience may be running thin—but it’s one essential part of supporting sexual health and living during a pandemic.
— Women-Led Digital Platforms That You Must Check Out
From the female orgasm to increasing the visibility of underrepresented sexual orientations, these women-led digital platforms are hitting the right spot.
Prom nights, cheerleading squads, and annual basketball games are all representative of classic high school films that we have all been guilty of binge-watching at some point in time. So when director Ben Taylor’s Sex Education, a popular Netflix series, came around, it was a breath of fresh air in an, otherwise overcrowded genre as it normalised the conversations around teenage sex, and sex in general, portraying it in all its awkward, confusing glory. The show is centered around Otis (Asa Butterfield), the awkward, virgin teenage son of a sex therapist (Gillian Anderson), who along with his friend, Maeve (Emma Mackey), decide to put his mother’s (sometimes) overbearing skills to use in order to make a little cash. They discover that their classmates are bogged down by sex and body issues they’re not comfortable speaking about with anyone.
In addition to educating us about sexual health practices, the show destigmatises masturbation, sexual fetishes, and fantasies, while also shining the spotlight on cyberbullying and physical harassment. Closer home, a slew of independent, women-led digital platforms are also normalising the conversations around sex, namely Agents of Ishq, Liberating Sexuality, RedWomb, and LSD Cast (Love Sex Desire).
First up, filmmaker and writer, Paromita Vohra’s bi-lingual multimedia platform, Agents of Ishq that uses interesting audio-visual formats to disseminate information about sex. For instance a Lavani on consent to animation on masturbation to a survey on how men feel about their penis. “I started Agents of Ishq because I felt the pre-existing conversation about sex was stultifying. We have always talked about sex in context to violence or negativity – how to avoid rape, pregnancy, or disease. Even though lived experiences are complex and multi-layered, we have spoken about it in a polarised way between the sexual revolution and absolute repression. Agents of Ishq created a friendly, fluid, and inclusive space. We even used relatable (desi) language to talk about sex, rooted in Indian experience and contexts.” explains Vohra.
The platform now has over 250 user-generated accounts of their sexual experiences and a highly engaged audience that looks out for fun, clarification, confession, a sense of community, and even sharing their own stories. They have affirmed their audience that they are not alone who have doubts and questions about the subject.
In the same vein Indraja Saroha’s YouTube channel, Liberating Sexuality is a repository of sex-positive videos that look at the intersection of mental health, body positivity, and sexuality. The law graduate started the platform to begin a conversation around taboo subjects. Indraja believes for a woman to express her sexual desires is a revolutionary act. Women tend to attract attention from people who consider this to be a declaration of their sexual availability because they’ve almost never seen a woman’s sexuality independent of the male gaze, or have reduced it to fetishisation. Further, Saroha elaborates, “Whether it is movies, pop culture, art, or even sex education, the conversation is limited to heterosexual men, as if they are the only ones entitled to pleasure and by extension, to have their desires represented and acknowledged as normal. Most of us need a voice, someone we relate to, who can express what we feel. It helps us feel less lonely, realise that our experiences are natural and we have our own agency.”
Similarly, Independent radio producer and journalist Chhavi Sachdev encourages people to engage in open conversations about sex through her candid podcast, LSDCast – Love, Sex, and Dating. While Pallavi Barnwal, a sex educator and founder of RedWomb, organises meetings to help men and women embrace their vulnerability and sexuality in a safe space. “Being a woman who runs a sex-positive platform has worked in my favour. I’m not only able to discuss issues faced by other women, but also engage with people from different genders and age groups without my intentions being questioned. Had it been man, he wouldn’t have received similar access” adds Pallavi.
When it comes to sexuality, there is no one-size-fits-all approach, which explains why there is already such a long list of terms to describe sexual orientation, with more popping up every day. For someone who is searching for the perfect word to describe their sexual desires, this could take them a step closer to finding sexual liberation. For others, these terms can be a little bit confusing, and that’s OK if you feel that way.
Most people are familiar with the widely recognized acronym LGBTQ+, which stands for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, plus anyone who doesn’t identify as straight but also doesn’t fit in under the definitions of the other letters either. But the acronym is really just the tip of the rainbow iceberg. Here’s everything you need to know about sexuality, plus a fuller list of some of the most common sexualities in 2020.
Sexuality is an umbrella term describing the parts of your identity that deal with how you present yourself to the world, who you love, and who you find yourself attracted to or not attracted to. According to sexologist Carol Queen, Ph.D., it’s the way a person feels and expresses their relationship to sex, desire, arousal, and eroticism.
“It can include a lot of varying elements (what kind of person you’d want to have sex with, specific preferences, and more), but often we use this term as shorthand for sexual orientation and the number of ways people may express both desire and identity,” she explains. She also points out, “Sexuality can be fluid in a person’s life, so its elements may change.”
How many sexualities are there?
There’s no definitive number of sexualities since new words are constantly being conceived and integrated into popular language as the way we talk about sexual orientation evolves. This isn’t to say that new types of sexuality are being “invented” out of the blue; rather, people are creating new language to describe nuances of sexual attraction and behavior that have always existed. These terms serve as a way for people to feel seen and find communities of like-minded people. They also help with describing one’s identity, communicating with others about what you look for in relationships, and establishing compatibility with potential partners.
While there is no finite number of sexual orientation types, there are a handful of terms that you’re likely to see more than others.
The term allosexual refers to anyone who experiences sexual attraction. Those who identify as allosexual can also identify as gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, or any other orientation, because allosexuality isn’t linked to gender but simply attraction. This is as opposed to asexuality, described below.
Someone who is androsexual will find themselves sexually or emotionally attracted to folks on the more masculine side. For some people, this attraction has very little to do with biology; it’s more about having a masculine identity or gender presentation. Alternatively, some people also use the term androsexual to refer to attraction to any folks with penises, though still with a focus on people with more masculine presentations.
An asexual individual typically doesn’t experience sexual attraction to any gender. However, it is possible for an asexual being to be romantically attracted to people of other genders or the same gender, and some asexual people do have sex in certain circumstances.
Have you ever wished there were two of you so you could have sex with yourself? If you answer yes, then you might be autosexual, aka someone who is sexually attracted to themselves.
Bi-curious refers to someone who is looking to explore or has already begun exploring bisexuality. There’s some disagreement about whether this term has roots in biphobia, however.
Someone who is bisexual will likely find themselves romantically, sexually, or emotionally attracted to more than one gender. It can sometimes overlap with pansexuality, which is the attraction to people regardless of gender. (Here’s more on how to know if you’re pansexual, as opposed to bisexual.)
Closeted, also referred to as “in the closet,” refers to anyone who is a part of the LGBTQIA+ community, but they have yet to publicly acknowledge this truth. These people typically have good reasons to keep their sexual identity to themselves, such as for safety from an intolerant community or to avoid discrimination associated with being “out” of the closet. Some closeted people may or may never “come out.”
Demisexual falls on the asexual spectrum. It describes someone who only experiences sexual attraction to folks they already have established a strong romantic or emotional relationship with.
Some people describe themselves as sexually fluid. A person who is fluid experiences their sexuality or sexual identity as changing over time or in different contexts rather than having one finite way they experience attraction.
The word gay is used to describe someone who is sexually, romantically, or emotionally attracted to people of the same gender. In some cases, women who date other women prefer to use the word lesbian, while others opt to use queer.
Graysexual people are all about the gray area of the sexuality spectrum and tend to experience limited sexual attraction. This means they’ll rarely experience sexual attraction, and when they do, it’s usually not very intense.
Gynesexual people are attracted to women and folks with more feminine gender presentations, as opposed to androsexual people who are interested in the masculine. Alternatively, some people also use the term gynesexual to describe attraction to people with vaginas, breasts, and a more feminine physical presentation.
Heterosexual or straight refers to people who are only attracted, whether sexually, emotionally, or romantically, to people of the “opposite” gender—i.e., men who are attracted to women exclusively, or women who are attracted to men exclusively.
Heteroflexible or homoflexible
A heteroflexible person is mostly straight (heterosexual) though occasionally is attracted to the same gender or other genders. A homoflexible person likewise is mostly gay (homosexual) though occasionally is attracted to the “opposite” gender. For example, a homoflexible man might primarily date and sleep with men but occasionally date or sleep with a woman. Like bi-curiosity, there’s still ongoing debate over whether these terms are rooted in biphobia.
The term homosexual is a bit outdated, but it refers to anyone who is attracted to people of the same or a similar gender.
A lesbian is a woman who is mentally, physically, and emotionally attracted to other women. Some women who date women prefer to be called gay or queer. Some people who don’t identify as women but do have more feminine aspects to their gender—for example, a more feminine-leaning nonbinary person—might also use the term lesbian to describe themselves and their relationships with other feminine people.
Someone who identifies as pansexual experiences attraction to folks regardless of sex or gender identity.
The dictionary defines queer as something “odd, strange, or weird,” but the word has since been reclaimed and redefined. These days, queer is an umbrella term that is sometimes used to describe anyone within the LGBTQ+ community. The term also provides a sense of community for those who may not fit into one of the other categories specifically but also don’t identify as straight or cisgender.
Someone who falls into the questioning category is someone who is questioning their current sexual identity and curious about exploring different aspects of sexuality or gender. For example, this could apply to someone who has always identified as a lesbian but is now wondering whether they’re also attracted to men.
You might be seeing this word used in social media and dating app bios more often these days. A sapiosexual person is someone whose attraction is based on intelligence rather than sex or gender.
Someone who is sex-repulsed is repulsed or disgusted by sex or sexual behavior. This person falls on the spectrum of asexuality.
Skoliosexual is one of the newer terms on the sexuality scene, and it refers to a person who is attracted to anyone who isn’t cisgender. This means a skoliosexual will usually find themselves drawn to people who are trans or nonbinary.
A spectrasexual is sexually or romantically attracted to a wide range of sexes, genders, and gender identities.
You might’ve heard the saying “Sexuality is a spectrum” before. The sexuality spectrum is the idea that all sexuality exists on a spectrum with binary “absolutes” on each end, explains sexologist Tanya M. Bass, Ph.D. The spectrum most often referenced is the Kinsey scale, which describes sexuality as existing on a spectrum from exclusively heterosexual to exclusively homosexual. Any individual can fall anywhere on this spectrum.
Here’s every stop on the Kinsey scale:
0 – Exclusively heterosexual
1 – Predominantly heterosexual, only incidentally homosexual
2 – Predominantly heterosexual but more than incidentally homosexual
3 – Equally heterosexual and homosexual
4 – Predominantly homosexual but more than incidentally heterosexual
5 – Predominantly homosexual, only incidentally heterosexual
6 – Exclusively homosexual
X – No socio-sexual contacts or reactions
Bass points out that there are other spectrums of identity as well, such as the gender spectrum, which views gender identity as existing on a spectrum from maleness to femaleness. Any individual can fall anywhere on this spectrum. Asexuality is considered another spectrum, where people can experience varying degrees of asexuality or fall somewhere on a spectrum from asexual to allosexual.
“Spectrums describe sexuality as fluid related to gender, orientation, attraction, and expression,” Bass explains. “It can often challenge the binary for both orientation, expression, and identity.”
Sexual orientation versus romantic orientation.
A person’s sexual orientation can sometimes be confused with their romantic orientation, but the two things aren’t quite the same. Your sexual orientation is linked to who you want to have sex (or some sort of erotic experience) with, while your romantic orientation refers to who you want to love or be in a relationship with.
“You can have sex without being in a relationship; you can be in a relationship without sex. So these things explain two elements of sexuality that can be teased apart or are always experienced together—depending on the person. And they don’t even need to match. Plenty of people fall in love with the other gender but like to have sex with people of their own gender, for example. And vice versa,” Queen explains.
The prefixes a-, bi-, pan-, hetero-, and homo- can all be attached to either element. For example, a biromantic asexual person might be someone who’s open to romantic partnerships with more than one gender, but they do not want sex in those relationships. Panromantic, biromantic, and aromantic are examples of other variations of romantic orientation.
When you put sexual and romantic orientation together, you learn more about the specifics of the person embracing the identities.
There’s a lot of nuance when it comes to sexual identity, which can be both exciting and overwhelming. Remember that these words aren’t meant to be prescriptive or frightening: They’re here to make your life simpler by making it easier for you to tell people who you are and what you want from your relationships. If you were searching for your word, we hope you’ll find yourself one step closer.
Last month, a series of anti-trans tweets by author J.K. Rowling incited a maelstrom of anger, pain, and indignation. Specifically, Rowling opposed the phrase “people who menstruate” in an article, commenting on the social media platform, “I’m sure there used to be a word for those people … Wumben?”
In her tweets, Rowling has perpetuated several common misconceptions about trans people, many of which actively hurt and harm the trans community. Here’s a breakdown of some common misconceptions and why they’re harmful.
Gender and sex are not the same thing
Sex is usually determined by a doctor shortly after birth based on the external genitalia you have, and even then it’s not so clean cut. Estimates suggest that 1 to 2 percent of all people in the US are intersex, meaning their bodies don’t fall neatly inside the male/female binary: Their gonads, genitalia, and hormones don’t necessarily match in sex characteristics.
Gender identity is less clinical and more focused on how an individual views themself. Human Rights Campaign defines gender identity as “one’s innermost concept of self as male, female, a blend of both, or neither—how individuals perceive themselves and what they call themselves.”
Gender presentation is how an individual chooses to look and show their identity through their appearance. How a person presents themself is separate to the gender they identify with—and trans individuals do not need to dress hyper-feminene of hyper-masculine to prove their gender identity.
“We still have that binary mindset of what a man and what a woman should look like. Then we have the additional layer of what a trans woman should look like and what a trans man should look like, and there’s often not a lot of space in between,” says Hansel Arroyo, a psychiatrist at Mount Sinai’s Center for Transgender Medicine and Surgery. He says being trans does not require adhering to stereotypical experiences: A trans woman dressed in typically ‘masculine’ clothing is still a woman.
Hormones are not sex specific
“Sex hormones” are a myth, says Katie Spencer, an assistant professor at the University of Minnesota who researches human sexuality and co-directs the National Center for Gender Spectrum Health in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Cis men have estrogen and cis women have testosterone, not to mention the wide variability among intersex individuals—”we all have sort of a blend of them in our bodies.”
Naturally variable hormone levels have been the center of controversy in competitive sports. For example, track-and-field star Caster Semenya has been scrutinized throughout her career because of her naturally high testosterone levels. Researcher Joanna Harper recently told Popular Science that we still don’t fully understand how all hormones affect athletic performance.
Spencer adds that there are plenty of trans people who don’t take hormones or have surgery just as there are plenty of cisgendered people who do need supplemental hormones, whether it’s for symptoms related to menopause, mediating sex-drive, or to prevent hair loss. So the perception that trans people taking hormones is evidence of something wrong or unnatural is completely moot, she says. What’s more, safe access to hormones is a public health issue: Hormone therapy can already increase your risk of heart attack, but taking hormones from unreliable black market sources means you’re never really sure how much of a hormone you’re taking, and that can result in serious medical issues, like kidney failure.
Cisgendered women are not the only people who can menstruate and get pregnant
“Lots of bodies menstruate,” says Spencer. There are some trans men and non-binary people who menstruate and get pregnant. On the other hand, there are plenty of cisgendered women who don’t menstruate. Menopause and other conditions like polycystic ovarian syndrome or uterine disorders can prevent regular cycles. To conflate menstruation with womanhood is wrong and offensive, says Spencer. Moreover, she says, it’s medically dangerous.
Awareness of obstetric and gynecological care for men and non-binary folk is important, because their experiences are still poorly documented and understudied. That “time of the month” can come with a big psychological toll for some. One study of pregnant trans men found that trans men remain highly motivated to get pregnant at the prospect of fatherhood, despite the lack of information and support available to them. Another study shows that some trans men experience extreme isolation and body dysphoria during pregnancy.
Awareness of obstetric and gynecological care for men and non-binary folk is important, because their experiences are still poorly documented and understudied.
Access to the care they need to transition is crucial for trans folk and their mental health, says Arroyo. When they receive appropriate, thoughtful care, trans individuals have better mental health and are more likely to feel safe and satisfied with their care. Interfering with an individual’s ability to live their full life or to prevent them from having dysphoric feelings, he says, is awful.
Trans existence is not new
“Trans people have always existed,” says Jesse Pratt López, a photographer, activist, and proud trans woman who notably started a GoFundMe for homeless Black trans women.
For example, before Europeans reached North America, many Native American tribes had third gender roles. Indigenous groups to this day have many different names for people across the non-binary spectrum.
“Looking at past populations, from historical documents to archaeological artifacts, graves, funerary goods and skeletons, we know that the binary that we think of as gender being male or female didn’t exist in all populations—and we know it still doesn’t exist in all populations today,” says Sabrina Agarwal, a bioarchaeologist and anthropologist at UC Berkeley. “We have evidence of gender and sexuality fluidity across human cultures from even prehistoric times—from ancient Egypt, Mesoamerican, the Inca, Southeast Asia, and even in the earliest Mesopotamaian writing tablets.”
A lot of the archaeological record supports a long history of gender fluidity, Agarwal says. One way to see that is to look at grave sites. By analyzing a skeleton archaeologists can infer a person’s sex, but that sex does not necessarily match up with the gendered artifacts they find at the person’s grave site, she explains. This could be because the individual lived outside of the gender binary.
Suppressing “deviations” from what’s considered normal is an invention of white colonization, says Pratt López, and so framing transness as a new phenomenon is deceptive and wrong. When white colonizers moved in on communities around the world they forcibly brought with them tenets of sex and gender binaries.
Agarwal agrees. She says that “these ideas of a gender binary are a Western-centric perception—the white settler’s idea of how things are divided.” A noted example she has studied are the hijras, a term that includes transgender and intersex individuals, and eunuchs. South Asia has long recognized them, she says, but when British colonialists came in, they targeted and criminalized the hijra. They still face echoes of that stigma today, though India recently gave the hijra legal recognition as a third gender.
When you consider the record of gender fluidity in the world throughout history, Pratt López says, it becomes impossible to separate trans oppression from colonization.
Genitalia is not the only thing that matters in attraction and sexuality
Trans sexuality is a particularly frustrating misconception to talk about, says Pratt López. However, she says it’s difficult to pinpoint what is so hard for folks to understand. She puts forth this hypothetical situation: If a heterosexual man who is only attracted to women sleeps with a trans woman, the common public response to that kind of relationship is usually, “He must be gay” rather than, “She must be a woman.”
Further, sex and gender are not the only reasons people become attracted to one another. “People are attracted to people on multiple levels,” says Katie Spencer. “Bodies are a part of that, and gender is a part of that, but they’re not the whole picture.” You’re not attracted to someone because of their genitals in any relationship, says Spencer, so reducing trans people and trans attraction to genitals makes no sense.
Transitions aren’t the same for everyone
“Transness, like anything, is a spectrum,” says Pratt López. She notes that how a person chooses to transition, and how they want to present themselves during this time, should occur on their terms: “Trans people don’t have to have any surgeries or take hormones in order to be the gender that they are.”
Conversion therapy is dangerous and does not work.
Rowling has also insinuated that queer youth are being “shunted towards hormones and surgery,” calling it “a new kind of conversion therapy for young gay people.” Contrary to what the author claims, helping trans youth understand their identities, and meeting them where they are is pivotal to closing mental and physical health disparities between trans and cis youth.
“There are people who would oppose somebody who is trans from getting appropriate medical services, whether hormone therapy or surgery, and I would encourage them to look at the health outcomes,” says Arroyo. The health disparity between cis and trans communities is frighteningly large, he says, but we see in our patients and in the research that providing support to both youth and adults can help close those gaps.
Conversion therapy, a category of discredited practices that aim to conform a person’s sexuality or gender identity to the societal norm or expectation, on the other hand, is dangerous and does not work. The UN has called it a “‘cure’ for an illness that does not exist.” Comparing transitioning to conversion therapy is a baseless analogy that does not hold up.
We often think of transitioning as going from one stereotypical side of the gender spectrum to the other, Arroyo says, but thinking about transitions as crossing a binary is inaccurate. A transition can mean different things to different individuals: Some trans folk may only want to transition by way of clothing and expression, while others might want to go as far as hormone therapy or surgery. There is no set end goal to a transition, no final destination. “It is not for me to say that one person’s way of expressing their gender is a transition or is not a transition,” says Arroyo. “And I think that’s a good reminder for us as medical providers—that it’s not for us to determine what transitioning is, but it’s for the individual to discover what transition is to them.”
How to be a better ally for trans people
Trans individuals, and especially trans women of color, are disproportionately victims of violence. As of July 27, 22 transgender or gender non-conforming people have been violently killed in 2020 alone. 16 of them (76 percent) were people of color.
“Here we are, in 2020, still begging and pleading for people to see our humanity,” says Milan Nicole Sherry, a trans activist from New Orleans who organizes the city’s NOLA Trans March of Resilience and created the hashtag #blacktranslivesmatter. She says that instead of complacent allies, they need active accomplices who speak with their actions—those who will not only stand with trans people, but walk with them and protect them, too.
Ask yourself, “how can I show up?” and ask your trans friends, “how can I help you and trans people?”, says Sherry. If you phrase it in a direct way, then you are more likely to get a direct answer.
Being an accomplice, as Sherry puts it, could mean joining them in protest, volunteering at a clinic or youth organization, or even just talking to those around you who are ignorant about trans people—all of it contributes to a movement towards acceptance.
Any and all action is impactful, especially during a time when celebrity authors and government agencies try to invalidate the trans community based on false interpretations of biology.
The hugely successful “Keep It Real Online” video aimed at getting parents to talk to their children about pornography has gone viral and been praised around the world. But my 16-year-old son asked an interesting question when he looked at the campaign website:
Why does it say talk “to” your child? Shouldn’t it be “with”?
This is why I always ask his opinion about how he makes sense of the world. As a sexuality educator for over 30 years, a university lecturer and mother of two teenage sons, it has been my privilege to listen to people’s stories of sexuality and the impact on their lives.
Some have been uplifting and some are simply heartbreaking. Either way, young people and adults generally want to reflect on the complicated, messy and often irrational nature of sex and relationships. They also want to talk about joy, pleasure, intimacy and love.
Young people want better sex and relationship education
So any discussion of pornography inevitably leads to a broader conversation – much like the one we imagine is about to take place in that viral video.
In case you haven’t watched it, two naked porn actors arrive at an ordinary home to talk to a boy who has been watching them online. The mother who answers the door is understandably surprised and a little lost for words. But in the end she tells her son they need to talk about the difference between the online and real worlds.
The video provides an excellent starting point for parents and children to have conversations about our understanding of sex, relationships and gender.
As the research continues to show, young people want better sexuality education from the adults in their lives. But what does better sexuality education look, sound and feel like to young people?
Before parents can talk with their children, they first need to reflect on how ideas about pornography are in turn shaped by broader socio-cultural values and attitudes towards young people, sex, relationships and the digital world.
Too often, parents’ anxieties about the loss of childhood innocence make them feel they need to be the expert who talks to their child about the dangers of pornography.
You might define this as a fear-based approach, and it can lead to young people having feelings of shame and guilt for being curious about sex. Very often this can be the end of the conversation.
Listening rather than explaining
It’s not easy, but parents should try not to let their own worries about pornography override their capacity to talk with, rather than to, their children about all aspects of sexuality. By doing so they will also help young people explore and develop their own critical thinking and media literacy.
My current research explores how 56 New Zealand parents understand and experience sexuality education with their children. Embarrassment and feeling unprepared continue to make it difficult for parents and young people to talk about sex, let alone porn.
If they do talk about pornography, we’re finding it is challenging to shift from being the parent who knows and explains to the one who asks open questions, listens and invites their child to share their world view.
But the fact is, as extensive research from the New Zealand Classification Office has shown, many young people have already seen pornography. The top two reasons they give are curiosity and that they found it by accident.
As adults and parents we need to remember that young people are sexual beings who are curious about sex. They often report that parental messaging doesn’t match their own feelings and experiences.
Letting young people lead the conversation
For those reasons, a conversation about pornography as a social, cultural, personal and highly complex issue can be a way into a deeper discussion.
From there we can explore what it means to navigate the bumpy roads of sex and relationships. Sexuality education by parents sometimes tries to smooth out those bumps with information and advice rather than shared discussion. Yet it’s through the emotional wrestle with social and cultural expectations that our sexual selves develop.
We need to allow young people to narrate their own lived experiences. At the same time, we should foster their ability to critique the wider moral landscapes in which they live.
Embrace sexuality as messy, complex, irrational, emotional and part of being human. Don’t look for the “right” answers from young people. Allow them to explore the emotional complexity and joy of sexuality. In this way, online access to pornography becomes just another intersection on their sexuality journey.
That is the beauty of the “Keep It Real Online” video – it’s humour allows us to ask young people open-ended questions. What should adults really be saying to young people? What do they think about pornography? What do they think constitutes a healthy relationship? Who is advantaged and disadvantaged by the porn industry?
Most of all, pause, breathe, don’t judge. Young people are far more insightful than adults sometimes give them credit. They are constantly watching, learning and working out how society expects them to behave.
Sometimes parents need to be open – but keep their mouths shut!
It’s natural and entirely harmless for young children to explore. But it’s also important for parents to set boundaries.
By Jenny Marder
A mother received an awkward email from her son’s kindergarten teacher last fall. Her 6-year-old and his friends had been caught unzipping their pants and flashing each other during lunch. The behavior was not unusual for his age, the teacher wrote, but it was inappropriate at school. She had spoken with him, and she hoped the parents could address it at home, too.
Now I’m not saying that mother was me. (I’m also not saying it’s not me.) but I can personally attest to the difficulty of handling this kind of situation as a parent.
The list of body behavior that makes parents uncomfortable is long. It’s not uncommon to see little ones get naked in public, or stick their hands down their pants, or in this case, compare penises in the school cafeteria — and then, all worked up by the event, shout out words like “penis” and “butt,” disrupting afternoon lessons. Did I forget to mention that part? And while this may be happening less in public with the pandemic, there’s plenty of body curiosity at home that can give parents pause.
But as the teacher said, all of this behavior is totally age-appropriate. Yet school rules must be followed, and limits must be set. So how do we do that while communicating that body curiosity is healthy and normal? How do we talk to our kids about body boundaries without making them feel ashamed?
Affirm body curiosity, don’t shame
The body is a child’s first classroom, says Deborah Roffman, a human sexuality educator, consultant and author of “Talk to Me First: Everything You Need to Know to Become Your Kids’ ‘Go To’ Person About Sex.” The sounds that bodies make and the stuff that comes out of them — they find it all “endlessly fascinating,” she said.
It’s perfectly natural for infants and toddlers to explore their genitals, especially as diapers come off and these parts are more accessible. By age 4 or 5, this behavior can become more intentional, Ms. Roffman said, and it is all “normal, expected and entirely harmless.”
Talking with young children about their bodies and sexuality paves the way for open communication as they get older, said Tanya Coakley, Ph.D., a professor at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro who has studied how parents communicate with their children about sex, with a focus on African-American fathers and sons. Those talks will positively influence children’s comfort with their bodies and the likelihood they will come to their parents with questions later on. Research analyzed by Dr. Coakley and co-author Schenita D. Randolph, Ph.D., of the Duke University School of Nursing, also showed that these conversations ultimately lower the chances of unwanted pregnancies, sexually transmitted diseases and other risky sexual behaviors.
“What’s essential is to have the lines of communication open, where it’s honest, nonjudgmental and nurturing,” Dr. Coakley said.
There are many motivations and impulses at play when kids touch themselves or shed their clothes in public. Touching genitals can feel pleasurable or soothing, Ms. Roffman said. Sometimes kids get naked because they’re having fun; other times they’re testing limits. But all of it is rooted in healthy exploration. What sets a child up for shame, she said, is experiencing good feelings while doing something they’ve been told is bad.
Shame is a powerful emotion, and it can damage how children view themselves and their bodies, she said. “It’s also very confusing when they’re not sure what it was they did that was so wrong. They’re left with a kind of diffuse anxiety about it.”
Saleema Noon, a sexual health educator in Vancouver, and author of the book, “Talk Sex Today: What Kids Need to Know and How Adults can Teach Them,” added, “We want kids to learn from a young age that sexual feelings are healthy. If they’re exploring their genitals, and they get the feeling from those around them that what they’re doing is bad or dirty, it’s going to impact them in a negative way, and they’re going to take that forward into their relationships.”
Use the correct words for body parts
Language can either empower children or cripple their ability to communicate, Roffman said. Just as we need to know the difference between the face and the throat, young girls should know the difference between the vulva and the vagina. Likewise, we should avoid associating silly or slang words with body parts or using avoidance words like “privates,” she said.
“A teacher might hesitate to say ‘penis’,” Ms. Roffman said. “And wouldn’t it be a wonderful world if we didn’t hesitate? These are just body parts, not second-class body parts.”
Set boundaries on time and place
Setting limits should go hand in hand with positively affirming the body and behavior, Ms. Roffman said. If a child is touching his genitals in a public place, you might say, “I know that feels good to you. The body is good, and it brings good feelings. And if you look around, you’ll see people don’t touch their genitals around other people. But you can do that in your bedroom or in the bathroom anytime you want” or “I know it’s fun to get naked, but in school, we keep our clothes on while we play.”
Games, like “playing doctor,” stem from children’s innate curiosity about their bodies, and parents shouldn’t worry, as long as the children are about the same age and neither is pressuring the other, Ms. Roffman said. In fact, she said, adults would do well to respect the children’s curiosity and walk away. But if it occurs during a playdate and you’re not sure of the other family’s view, another option is to redirect the kids to a different activity and state a clear limit: “When we have friends over, we keep our clothes on.” (It helps if you’ve set this rule ahead of time.)
Noon, however, said it’s best to calmly put a stop to the game. “What my experience tells me is that it’s best to teach these boundaries in a very clear way when they’re young, so that they’re not misunderstood.” Then check in with the kids later to acknowledge their healthy curiosity and make sure they know they’re not in trouble, Noon advised.
Such encounters can also be an opportunity to teach our kids about consent, she added. “We need to teach our kids the word, ‘No.’ And that they’re the boss of their bodies.”
Let children know when touch by others is not OK
As these talks about the body become a habit, it becomes easier to talk with kids about body behavior that’s not appropriate. One in four girls and one in 13 boys experience child sexual abuse at some point in childhood, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. And age 5 is a good time to start addressing unwanted touch, said Dr. Coakley, who began her career working in child welfare.
There are a few messages you want to get across in these conversations, she said. Let them know that there’s touch that’s OK — a parent or another caregiver giving a child a bath or changing a diaper, or a doctor doing an exam, for example; and touch that isn’t OK.
“Unless it’s for a reason we talked about, it’s not OK for an older person to touch your penis or vulva or mouth,” you might say. And, “If someone touches or looks at you in a way that doesn’t feel right, tell another adult right away.”
Also, Dr. Coakley said, make it clear to your child that an adult should never ask them to keep a secret. Prevent Child Abuse America has more information on this, along with non-touching offenses that constitute abuse, such as showing a child pornography, and how parents can protect their children and educate themselves.
Practice having the conversation beforehand
These are all subjects that make parents anxious, which can cloud common sense. In having these conversations, Dr. Coakley suggests role playing the dialogue ahead of time with a partner or a friend, noticing not just your word choice, but also your body language and tone. And if you’re not comfortable saying the words “penis,” “scrotum,” “vagina” or “vulva,” practice. The more you say them, the easier it gets.
While it’s typically mothers who broach this subject with their kids, fathers have tremendous value to add, said Natasha Cabrera, Ph.D., a professor of human development at the University of Maryland who specializes in cultural and ethnic differences in parenting behaviors. Men tend to be more blunt and direct, she said, and more likely to provide information without censoring, all of which children find refreshing.
And the best way to meet the curiosity that drives all of this body behavior is with information, Cabrera said. Read a book with your kid that shows pictures of body parts and their systems, for example.
So when things come up, take a deep breath, and lean on honesty and facts.
Not long after that 6-year-old showed his penis to his friends at school, his mother found him comparing his genitals with his little sister in the bathtub. This mom opted to freak out at the sight, then have a hushed conversation her spouse in the next room and then separate the children, muttering something about “too much curiosity.”
But parents could also take a beat and ask themselves: Is there a power dynamic going on? Is one child pressuring the other? Are they both having fun? It may be that our worries as parents have less to do with our children’s behavior and more about how we’ve been conditioned to respond to it. And maybe what the children were doing wasn’t so bad. In fact, maybe, it was a perfectly healthy way for them to learn.
As Roffman put it, “If you take the sex part out, you get your common sense back.”
According to Dr. Sara C. Flowers, vice president of education for Planned Parenthood Federation of America, only 9 states and the District of Columbia include LGBTQ-inclusive sex education in their curriculum.
“Queer young people are often left out of the conversation altogether,” Flowers told Insider. “This can result in a lot of misinformation about their identities, bodies, and health — leaving them without the skills or resources they need to have healthy relationships or safe sex, if and when they make that decision.”
Gina Desiderio, director of communications for The Health Teen Network, told Insider that not only does this do a disservice to LGBTQ youth, it actually worsens their mental health.
“Research shows that LGBTQ+ young people report disproportionate experiences of depression, bullying, and feelings of unsafety at school — and these experiences are even more common among LGBTQ+ youth of color,” Desiderio said. “However, queer youth that do receive inclusive sex education are less likely to feel unsafe and report lower levels of victimization because of their identity.”
Insider compiled a list of the most critical queer sex education facts left out of the classroom.
Some people using hormones aren’t sure what protection to use, but there are some creative solutions.
Barriers like condoms are not just used to prevent pregnancy. They serve an important role in preventing the spread of STIs like gonorrhea, chlamydia, and HIV.
According to Flowers, they should be used regardless of you or your partner’s genitalia. However, oftentimes condoms are framed as the only option. Dental damns, latex gloves, and other alternatives can better suit the needs of different people.
“If you or your partner has an enlarged clitoris from taking testosterone, you can create a barrier method using a latex glove by cutting off the fingers and placing it over the clitoris, or by cutting the glove or a condom into a dental dam that leaves extra space in the thumb for the clitoris,” Flowers said.
Even if you’re performing non-penetrative sex, these kinds of barriers should be used.
Use barriers on your sex toys as well.
Barriers are important even if you’re using a sex toy on a partner.
If you use sex toys on multiple people (like yourself and your partner), putting a condom on them can help keep everyone involved safe.
“Condoms can also be used on sex toys to reduce the chance of passing STIs between partners,” Flowers said.
You can still get pregnant even if you or your partner are taking gender-affirming hormones.
Sometimes, trans and non-binary people undergo Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT), and take gender-affirming hormones like estrogen and testosterone.
While these hormones change the body, affect fertility and even eliminate periods for some, they are not a form of birth control. People on HRT can still get pregnant or impregnate another person.
“People taking gender-affirming hormones like testosterone and estrogen can still become involved in a pregnancy,” Flowers said. “To prevent pregnancy, consider non-hormonal birth control options, including the copper IUD or barrier methods like external or internal condoms, which still work while taking gender-affirming hormones.”
‘Losing your virginity’ isn’t necessarily penetration between a penis and a vagina — it can look like many things.
Oftentimes, sex and losing your virginity is framed as having penetrative sex between cisgender man with a penis and cisgender woman with a vagina.
But sex and losing your virginity can look like a variety of ways for people and certainly doesn’t have to involve penetration.
In addition to penetrative sex being centered, sex in many sex ed classes is oftentimes from as a means to an end to have a child. Not only does this undermine the importance of pleasure in cisgender heterosexual sex, it completely erases many queer people who cannot have sex that results in a pregnancy.
“Too often, sex education casts all adolescent sexual activity in the narrowest, most sex-negative of lights: potentially dangerous at best, and catastrophic at worst,” Desiderio told Insider. “This failure to integrate sex positivity matters to queer and straight, cisgender young people alike.”
Desiderio told Insider instead educators should be openly talking about pleasure in the context of sex.
“Having frank, open conversations about sexual pleasure acknowledges people have sex for reasons other than reproduction, affirming the identities of LGBTQ+ people too often erased by curricula infatuated with the nitty-gritty details of when sperm meets egg,” Desiderio said.
It’s important to be aware that homophobia and transphobia can drive low self-esteem. And that can affect relationships.
According to Flowers, dating violence is oftentimes mentioned in the context of cisgender and straight relationships, but it’s crucial for LGBTQ youth to understand dating violence can happen to anyone, regardless of gender identity, presentation, or sexual orientation.
“LGBTQ+ young people deserve sex education that helps them learn how to identify healthy and unhealthy relationships, teaches them about consent, and lets them know they deserve to be supported if they are in an unsafe or unhealthy relationship,” Flowers told Insider.
These are some good techniques to consider when coming out to your family.
While the decision to come out differs from person to person, having the proper language to talk about sexual orientation and gender identity is necessary for a young LGBTQ person to talk to their family.
“Including tips for coming out about gender identity or sexual orientation in classroom instruction is one way to de-center heteronormative relationships and ensure all young people are getting what they need from sex education,” Flowers said.
Here are some tips Flowers suggested that can make you feel more comfortable and prepared:
Choose a private location
Plan what you’re going to say ahead of time
Prepare for questions about your sexuality or gender identity
Pay attention to politics. Race, gender, ability, and class all affect your access to sexual health.
The way we have sex, and access sexual healthcare, can be greatly impacted by our gender, sexuality, or race. For example, HIV/AIDs still disproportionately impacts Black and Latinx queer men in the United States.
That’s why it’s important to understand the challenges you personally face in life, beyond in the bedroom, according to Desiderio.
“These factors combined affect the health and well-being of LGBTQ+ and gender nonconforming youth, as evidenced by high rates of attempted and completed suicide, unplanned pregnancies, and HIV and sexually transmitted infection diagnoses,” Desiderio said.
At school, Desiderio says, there should be open discussions about each child’s identity, so they can be prepared for oppression and the barriers they may face in life.
“Institutions organized for the dominant population too often marginalize, ignore, or erase the LGBTQ+ experience and queer sex,” Desiderio said. “Young people face vast systemic inequities and structural barriers to ensuring their health; affirming, inclusive sex education is one way we can support and empower young people to thrive.”
In late 2019, Well+Good predicted that 2020 would mark an all-time high point for the sexual pleasure of vulva-owners—and so far, we haven’t been disappointed. Along with heralding in an era of high-tech vibrators and learning how both solo and partnered pleasure activities can survive during quarantine, an open and honest conversation about sex is slowly but surely becoming the norm. If you don’t believe me, just take a look at the packed calendar of digital sex-positive workshops scheduled for the weeks ahead.
The International Society for Sexual Medicine (ISSM) defines sex-positive folks as people who are “open to learning more about sex and sexual activity“—and these are definitely qualities of those attending and hosting the summer workshops below. If you find yourself wanting to get in on the conversation (and learn a ton about sex and desire along the way) check out the following digital sex-positive workshops and events to sign up for ASAP.
6 sex-positive workshops to sign up for this summer
Hosted by sexual-wellness company Dame Products, this workshop features somatic psychologist and certified sex therapist Holly Richmond, LMFT, who will give tips on having—you guessed it—the best sex ever.
“Having sex is both an emotional and physical experience, so it makes sense to use the mind and the body as resources for pleasure and connection,” reads the event description. “Using methods of mindfulness and tantra practices, and drawing on principles of neuroscience and polyvagal theory, participants will learn to use the mind and body together—not focus on one over the other—to have their best sex ever.”
This workshop invites Black people of all genders, sexual orientations, gender expressions, disabilities, and religions to join in on a workshop about getting in touch with your most erotic self. “We all have a source of power, knowledge, and pleasure within us that comes from the erotic. The erotic informs us of the relationships, experiences, and things we desire in our life. Now is the time to honor and reclaim our erotic selves, erotic voice, and erotic power. It’s time for us to reject the sex negativity that this world projects onto us so we can begin living lives full of pleasure,” reads the event page.
The price on this one may seem steep, but you’ll walk away with a 25-page workshop and a “curated list of resources for your sexual liberation journey.” Afrosexology will also host a followup workshop on June 28, 2020 at 5 p.m., ET, for those outside the Black community, also $97.
“Mainstream sex ed probably hasn’t answered the questions you have about having sex as a queer (or questioning) person, but now, they’ll be answered,” reads the event page. Hosted by sex educator Cassandra Corrado, the curriculum of this particular evening will include learning about sexual wellness from a queer perspective, finding your euphoria in the bedroom, and creating the love and pleasure you deserve.
The Center for Sexual Pleasure and Health (CSPH), which has been instrumental in providing open discourse and dialogue about the many shades of sex and sexuality, is at risk for going out of business by the end of the summer. To help keep its doors open, the company will be transforming the next in its event series, Sticky Stories, into a fund-raiser. Expect live readings, diary entries, sex adventures (and misadventures) at these live events.
Another event hosted by Dame Products, this workshop will investigate the tricky territory of coupled conversation during COVID-19. Led by licensed therapist and Viva Wellness co-founder Jor-El Caraballo, LMHC, you’ll log off from the session with new strategies for how to talk about your needs effectively with your partner in good times and in the midst of arguments.
A whole weekend of kink intel is coming up at the end of July, and it’s sure to be an educational couple of days. With 18 courses available for you to sign up for, including “Domming from the bottom” and “Impact for non-masochist,” you’re likely to expand your pleasure horizons.
Ina Park has been in a monogamous marriage for more than 15 years, but she feels like she’s been having one safe sex conversation after another these days.
Like, after she and some close friends spent time together without masks on, forcing her to later ask: “Are you seeing other people?”
Then, the mother of her son’s friend suggested letting the boys play basketball together, leading to detailed negotiations about risk tolerance, boundaries and protection.
“Those are conversations that some of us were used to having in the past and have not had for a long time,” said Park. “Now, suddenly, we’re having to have these awkward, safe sex-type conversations with all types of people that you wouldn’t ordinarily have to have these conversations with.”
Park is a doctor who treats people with sexually transmitted infections at the San Francisco City Clinic and author of a book about STIs, “Strange Bedfellows“, so she’s used to explaining to people, when you have sex with someone, you’re essentially having sex with whoever else they’re having sex with.
Now, it’s whoever you’re breathing next to.
As Bay Area residents emerge from strict shelter-in-place rules and consider getting a haircut or hosting a family BBQ, we have a lot to negotiate with each other about what we’re willing to do, with whom and how.
All this requires some nuanced communication skills. Doctors and sex education teachers, as well as polyamory and BDSM practitioners, have years of best practices and guidance to offer, drawing various parallels between negotiating safe sex and negotiating safe socializing.
“If you really want to make sure your partner uses a condom, you have to express why it’s important to you and why it’s aligned with your values and why that’s something that you need from them,” said Julia Feldman, who runs the sex education consultancy, Giving the Talk. “If you want your mom to wear a mask when you see her, you need to explain why it’s important to you and why it’s aligned with your values.”
Feldman helped develop sex education curriculum for the Oakland Unified School District. She says Bay Area schools have shifted away from knowledge-based teaching — sperm fertilizing the egg, etc — to focusing more on communication skills like these; skills many adults have never received formal training on.
“The more people communicate what they want and what they desire and what they’re comfortable with, the more we actually get what we want,” Feldman said. “This is a really good time to practice that.”
Feldman has been practicing her skills over and over during the pandemic, like when she invited a friend over for a socially-distanced cocktail in her backyard. They had an extensive conversation about how they would sit (six feet apart); what they would drink (her friend would accept a can she could wipe down); whether they would wear masks (no); if Feldman would serve snacks (no).
Sex educator Julia Feldman says the same communication skills she teaches teens about sex are helpful for everyone during the pandemic.
“Because if you show up at someone’s house and they have a beautiful spread and they’re expecting that you’re just going to dig into a platter of food with them, and that’s not what you’re comfortable with, there might be disappointment on their part,” Feldman said. “There’s a lot of emotions involved.”
Her friend also asked in advance if she could use Feldman’s bathroom while she was there.
“So I disinfected this one bathroom and created a pathway through my house. But it really was only because she was cognizant of articulating that need and I was able to take time to accommodate it,” she said. “If she had showed up and said, ‘Oh, I really have to pee. Can I use your bathroom?’ I don’t know what I would have done.”
Lessons from Kink
This very detailed thinking and advanced negotiating shares similarities with the world of BDSM; sexual role-play, involving bondage, dominance and submission.
“You start tying people up without consent and it just goes south right away — you just can’t do that,” said Carol Queen, staff sexologist at Good Vibrations, the sex toy and sexual health company with locations throughout the Bay Area.
Good Vibrations sexologist Carol Queen says we have a lot of lessons we can borrow from the BDSM and polyamory communities in negotiating consent during the pandemic.
She suggests considering a common tool from the BDSM world: a detailed spreadsheet of every possible kinky activity — from leather restraints to nipple clamps — with columns to be filled in for yes, no or maybe. It’s a conversation starter for beginners and helps facilitate conversations ahead of kink parties. Queen says we need an equivalent checklist for the coronavirus.
“That helps people do that very first step of understanding what their own situation and needs and desires are,” she said. “Somebody, make this list for us!”
Queen has always emphasized that communication doesn’t stop once you get to the party. In her starring role in the 1998 instructional video/feminist porn film, Bend Over Boyfriend, she stressed the point repeatedly: “It’s deeply important that you are verbal with each other and say, ‘Yes, no, faster, I’m ready, I’m not ready.’ It’s very important because if you’re going on your partner’s wavelength, you’re going to have a greater experience.”
Two decades later, through a pandemic, she said it still holds true.
“The idea that it’s okay to be that talkative in the service of safety and comfort really is what we learned from that,” Queen said. “It’s a very important lesson in sex and, these days, under most other circumstances.”
Negotiating commitment
As some counties start to encourage people to form social pods or “quaranteams” as a way to limit socializing among two or three households, we now essentially have to decide which of our friends or family we ask to go steady with us.
“I wish I had more polyamorous friends to help me navigate that situation,” said Park, the STI doctor. As in, folks with experience brokering different levels of intimacy with multiple partners and establishing ground rules for the group.
As a physician who often talks with patients about infidelity when an infection enters the picture, Park wonders how pods will deal with social infidelities.
“There’s inevitably going to be betrayals, ‘Oh, I cheated on our pod with somebody else,’ and then having to disclose that to the pod,” she said. “Does the relationship recover? Or do you kick that person out of your pod forever?”
In Park’s experience, it’s always better to admit to an affair before an infection enters the picture, whether it’s chlamydia or the coronavirus, so everyone can take precautions. With the coronavirus, the offending pod member can self-quarantine for two weeks away from the rest of the group, so no one gets sick.
But whether you’re being kicked out of a pod or no one’s invited you to be part of a pod in the first place, the experts agree we all need to get better at handling rejection. The pandemic is temporary, but we’re in it with our loved ones for the long term, so we need to respect each other’s anxieties and boundaries.
“Don’t take it personally,” said Queen. “We’re all new here at this party.”
Sex education should give students the tools to take ownership of their lives and bodies so that they can feel empowered. And that includes LGBTQ students.
In many states, sex ed curricula isn’t required to be comprehensive or medically accurate; abstinence-only is the norm; consent doesn’t need to be mentioned; and instructors emphasize the benefits of monogamous, heterosexual marriage.
I’m a sex educator, but my own experience with sex education wasn’t great.
I went to high school in Florida, which is one of many states that doesn’t require sex education—the decision is left up to individual school districts. For schools that opt to teach sex ed, the curriculum isn’t required to be comprehensive or medically accurate; abstinence-only is the norm; consent doesn’t need to be mentioned; and instructors emphasize the benefits of monogamous, heterosexual marriage. Imagine the turmoil this messaging could cause young LGBTQ students.
It was clear to me early on that talking about sexual health wasn’t a priority for the people who made decisions about our education, even though almost everyone I knew was having some type of sex.
That all changed my first year of college, when I went to a sex ed workshop hosted by the Center for Sexual Pleasure & Health. In three hours, I learned more than I did in all of my middle and high school sex education classes combined. I can point to that workshop as a true point of transformation in my life—it helped me take ownership of my sexuality and boundaries, and changed my career path. (I later interned and then worked at the center in an education role.)
It was also the first time I had ever seen queerness centered, normalized, and celebrated in an educational setting. It was the first time I ever felt like sex ed really applied to me. That workshop changed my life for the better, and that’s what sex education should do: give students the tools to take ownership of their lives and bodies so they can feel empowered. And that includes LGBTQ students.
But here’s the thing: You shouldn’t be 18 the first time you feel included in the conversation, or learn about consent, or have your sexuality affirmed. All of those things should happen much earlier.
So, I had a conversation with two other LGBTQ sex educators to figure out what we really want for our students when it comes to LGBTQ-positive sex education. Here’s what we wish all students learned in school.
Fluidity is the norm
When I say that queer-centric sex education benefits everyone, I mean it. Everyone can benefit from an education that celebrates different identities, represents the many ways that people can love, and talks about health inclusively.
According to Cindy Lee Alves, a queer, nonbinary femme sexologist, the main difference between curricula that simply references LGBTQ folks and curricula that centers LGBTQ folks is shame. “Many curricula think about sex ed solely as disease prevention, and that doesn’t do much for us,” they said. “What would it look like if we taught folks from a young age that things in all parts of your life can be expansive and that you don’t have to pick a lane right away? How much shame would that remove? When you couple inaccurate information with shame, it makes people small.”
Any education that says “this is how things always are and always will be” teaches shame, Alves said. Sexuality and gender identity are fluid, so rather than be prescriptive in what we teach young people, we should teach that it’s okay and expected to explore who you are a little bit. It’s also normal for those things to shift, which doesn’t invalidate any part of your past, present, or future identity.
Sex is all-encompassing
When many people think of sex, they’re thinking of one thing in particular: penis-in-vagina intercourse. But sex is much more than that. Sex includes oral, anal, and vaginal sex, as you might have expected. But it also includes acts typically categorized as “foreplay,” like handjobs, fingering, using toys together, and more.
Everyone’s definition is different, but the way that you define sex matters, because that definition will likely influence your sexual boundaries, the contraceptives you use, and who you choose to do it with.
LGBTQ-positive sex ed doesn’t just teach heteronormative sex; it recognizes that sexual behavior is expansive and affirms that no type of sex is less important or relevant than others.
Sex and gender are not binary
Sex and gender are different things, and both are more expansive than we’re currently taught. You may have grown up thinking the terms were were interchangeable (I know I did), but they’re not, and learning this distinction can make a huge difference in how you approach sex education at home and in the classroom.
Sex is a label you’re given based on your genitals, chromosomes, or hormones—or a combination of these factors. What’s on your birth certificate is the sex you were assigned at birth, which is usually based on what your genitalia looked like. But chromosomal pairings and genitalia don’t always match up, and there is an entire spectrum of biological sex.
Some people are intersex, meaning they have sex characteristics (genitals, hormone levels, and chromosomes) that don’t fit the typical definitions of male or female. So the argument that “there are only two sexes” is wrong. Intersex people are proof of biological variation and that nature hates binaries.
Truly LGBTQ-positive sex ed would celebrate gender diversity, accept all bodies, and positively represent all genders.
On the other hand, gender isn’t determined by anything bodily—it’s the way that you situate yourself in society. While your body parts might affirm that placement, they don’t define it. If someone’s gender identity aligns with the sex they were assigned at birth, they’re cisgender. If someone’s gender identity doesn’t align with the sex they were assigned at birth, they’re gender nonconforming or transgender.
Many people who are teaching sex ed aren’t trans and may not even be familiar with what it means to be gender nonconforming. Because “folks who actually identify [these ways] aren’t creating the content, there are going to be blind spots,” said Jimanekia Eborn, a queer sexuality educator and trauma specialist. Those blind spots aren’t small, either, and they can be really harmful.
While some curricula might try to take on gender, they often fall short because they talk about gender as a binary when it simply isn’t—nonbinary, genderqueer, two-spirit, and agender people exist, along with so many more identities. You might not have the words for them, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t real.
Truly LGBTQ-positive sex ed would celebrate gender diversity, accept all bodies, and positively represent all genders.
You can’t separate the issues
When you try to teach sex ed as if sex happens in a vacuum that isn’t affected by other parts of one’s life, you’re doing a disservice to your students. Queer and inclusive sex ed “centers folks who are system-impacted,” Alves said. “I think about intersectionality. If we’re bringing up queerness, we have to bring it up with other identities, too.”
“All of the roots are connected, and some people want to just focus on their one tree. But it’s our responsibility to show up for our young people and get their needs met,” Alves said.
From the photos and anatomy tools you use to the cultural examples and historical figures you turn to, representation in sex ed matters. Students need to be able to see themselves in what we teach.
Queer people deserve healthy relationships
Violence prevention and healthy relationships workshops can too often leave students thinking that victims of violence are always cisgender women and that perpetrators are cisgender men.
That just isn’t true. Interpersonal violence, including sexual assault and dating violence, can be committed and experienced by people of any gender or sexual orientation. In fact, queer and trans women experience higher rates of violence than cisgender, heterosexual women.
“Often, evidence-based curricula will use nongendered names or not give a lot of context clues about people’s identities,” Alves said. “That doesn’t do much for queer youth. Outright including and centering someone’s identity in a lesson plan offers the opportunity to discuss how their identity might affect their other experiences.”
When the lessons we learn about consent, boundaries, and healthy relationships only show one type of relationship dynamic, we’re passively telling our LGBTQ students that this information isn’t relevant to them.
And while we’re here, remember that there’s no one right way for a relationship to be structured. Monogamy isn’t right for everyone, so when you’re talking about healthy relationships, make sure to include ethical non-monogamy, too.
“Often, evidence-based curricula will use nongendered names or not give a lot of context clues about people’s identities. That doesn’t do much for queer youth.”
– Cindy Lee Alves
Asexuality isn’t a problem to be solved
Some sexualities are completely ignored in sex ed, like asexuality—an umbrella term that encapsulates many different identities that are defined more by a lack of sexual attraction or desire than who the person is attracted to.
At its core, asexuality means the absence of sexual attraction, but it’s a bit more layered than that. Demisexuality, for example, means only experiencing sexual attraction after forming a deep emotional bond (not necessarily romantic) with someone. Gray asexuality means experiencing sexual attraction rarely or occasionally.
While some asexual people might also be aromantic (not experiencing romantic attraction), plenty of sexual people have romantic relationships. Sex isn’t a requirement for being in a relationship. Asexuality can also be combined with other sexual orientations, so someone might identify as both bisexual and asexual. I’m queer and demisexual (and happily married).
Just like any other sexuality, asexuality isn’t a problem to be solved, so sex educators should never treat it that way. Asexual people still need education about consent, healthy relationships, and sexual wellness, even if they never have partnered sex.
Condoms aren’t the only option
When it comes to barrier method contraceptives for STI and pregnancy prevention, people often think of external condoms (the type that goes over a penis or sex toy), but there are so many more options. As a sex educator, you should educate students equally about all types of barrier methods, because queer students might not have a need for external condoms.
When you teach about condoms, also educate students about internal condoms, dental dams, finger cots, and gloves. They can all be used as safer sex tools, and you can save your exploratory students a lot of confusion if you just go ahead and teach about them now.
We deserve to be empowered, not ashamed
Those of us who teach pleasure-positive sex education know how deeply shame and fear root themselves. Shame does weird stuff to you. It only takes one comment to make someone feel bad about who they are, and that one comment can have ripple effects throughout your lifetime.
Things have changed for young queer people in recent years. But for all the empowering messages, there are still parents, teachers, peers, and media that will pass on that shame. When I was in high school, my internalized homophobia ran so deep that I refused to acknowledge that I might not be straight. I was afraid to not be straight, and that fear led me to have sex with people I shouldn’t have and not set any boundaries for myself.
Queer people deserve to grow up feeling empowered to set boundaries, make their own decisions, advocate for themselves, and explore their sexuality in a way that makes them feel good. Straight people deserve that, too. We all do. We all want “love, pleasure, and to be seen, heard, and respected,” as Eborn said.
“The people who have the access and the power have to make these changes to center our young people and their experiences—we can’t rely on our old expertise; we have to make these shifts,” Alves said.
Now’s the time to have these important talks with your kids.
By Phyllis Fagell
As children witness and experience the outpouring of pain in the wake of the deaths of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor and Rayshard Brooks, they need adults to help them make sense of the unrest, says Baruti Kafele, a social justice educator, former principal and author of “The Assistant Principal 50.”
That conversation is going to look different in black and white households, says Kafele, who is black. When he trains educators, he’ll say: “Raise your hand if you feel the need to have ongoing conversations with your children about what to do if stopped by a police officer.” Invariably, “the black hands go up, or the white ones with black children.” He then explains that parents of black kids can’t opt out of these conversations. “I don’t want my son to get pulled over and lose his life over a broken taillight.”
When he was a teen, Kafele moved with his family to a white town where he felt invisible. “I started to read African American history and discovered who I was, the shoulders I stood on.” If parents don’t have that expansive knowledge base, they need to educate themselves before talking to their child, he says. Otherwise, a parent might not be able to truly help a child understand the impetus and intentions of the protests. “Because of my macro lens, I understand the rage, the anger, the frustration.”
These conversations should happen all the time, Kafele adds, “but now parents have to step up their game and help kids see that these deaths are not isolated aberrations; it’s a continuum from lynchings that have been occurring since African Americans got here 400 years ago.” Assess what your children know, and make space for them to share feelings. He recommends asking: “Do you think everyone is treated equally?”
“As a white parent and educator, I find that white parents often feel ill-equipped to have these conversations because of their lack of experience talking about race, and therefore may avoid them altogether,” says Jen Cort, an educational consultant who focuses on equity, diversity, inclusion and justice. “What white people need to do instead in order to raise anti-racists is examine their racial identity and do their own work through reading, listening, talking to other white people and resisting taxing black people to be their educators or to affirm them as good people.”
Parents need to confront skewed images that show “violent, reductive images of people of color,” and make sure they expose kids to a more positive narrative, says Dena Simmons, an education practitioner-scholar and author of the forthcoming “White Rules for Black People.”
“What I learned growing up as a black girl — in school, on TV, in magazines and books — was my erasure,” she says. “My excellence wasn’t there, and neither was my beauty, scholarship or ingenuity.”
Parents, particularly white parents, “need to pop the bubble and teach, live and act in a way that ensures their children grow up knowing the world outside themselves,” Simmons adds. “Expand their experiences in the world through the activities they do, the conversations you have, the people you interact with, and what they read and watch.”
Money and privilege
So this is an important time to talk about the difference between wants and needs, and to prompt your child to consider how much is enough. “The conversation will feel more real than before the pandemic, particularly for affluent kids who have everything they need and nearly everything they want,” he says. “There are things we can’t have now at any price.” Prompt your child to think about items or experiences they miss, and then ask: “Is there anything that surprises you? What does that tell you? What do those things cost?”
Families who are struggling financially are probably having this conversation already. If you’re not, your child probably knows more than you think. “There’s a decent chance they’re eavesdropping, listening hard, sensing your mood,” Lieber says. If they have questions, ask them what’s on their mind. “Quite often, all they’re asking is, ‘Are we going to be okay?’ ” he explains.
If your child is concerned about a friend’s financial status, “don’t shame them for asking questions that come from curiosity and waking up to the fact that things are not always equal or fair,” Lieber says. Share that many people are having financial difficulties caused or exacerbated by the pandemic, then talk about how the novel coronavirus has exposed or worsened inequities. Look at various indicators, from health care to the homework gap. As Kafele notes: “Your child may not realize that 30 to 35 percent of students — particularly children of color and economically disadvantaged students — lack access to WiFi hotspots and computers and are getting zero education, or that there’s a disproportionate number of covid deaths in African American and Latino communities. Ask your child: ‘Why do you think these disparities exist?’ ”
“Explain that, throughout life, we sometimes need help and sometimes are in a position to give help,” Cort says. “We want kids to see themselves as helpers and feel comfortable when they need to ask for help.”
Grief and loss
“The right time to teach children about loss is when loss occurs, and there’s a lot of loss occurring right now,” says David Kessler, the author of “Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief” and founder of grief.com. “There are micro and macro losses. Grandpa dying is a big loss, but your kids not being able to have graduation or go to school and camp also are losses. There’s no judgment or comparing in loss.”
“We all have to learn disappointment, but usually it’s titrated in small doses. I didn’t get invited to the party or onto the select team,” says psychologist Madeline Levine, the author of “Ready or Not: Preparing Our Kids to Thrive in an Uncertain and Rapidly Changing World.” “The amount of disappointment these kids are absorbing is very high.”
Take time to process your own losses and understand grief, Kessler says. If your child is crying because their baseball team can’t practice, don’t say: “You don’t want to get sick, do you?” That invalidates their loss. Say, “Yes, it’s disappointing,” and explain that feeling sad is a normal reaction to grief. “A feeling only lasts for a few moments, but when we suppress it, we have all these half-felt emotions that never get expressed, and then the day comes when you need to find your emotions and don’t know how,” he says. Model how to cope with difficult feelings by saying things such as, “I’m having a really hard time not seeing my friend Suzy, but I’m looking forward to when we can be together again.’ ”
Sexuality and healthy relationships
Social distancing means kids have to connect in new ways, and you can use that to talk about their relationships. Ask: “What do you need from your friends right now? How can you support them?”
Your child is also spending more time with you, which means you may be watching the same shows or reading the same books. These shared experiences can provide natural segues to talk about relationships without being overly intrusive.
“It’s more fun for all involved when you can get into important topics by way of a favorite character,” says Marisa Nightingale, the media adviser at Power to Decide, an organization that gives young people accurate sexual health information. She notes that a show such as “Black-ish” “dives right into social issues, relationship dynamics and the importance of honest communication.” You can ask: “What would you do if you were in that character’s shoes?”
Use the quarantine to talk to your children about sexuality and their changing bodies. They’re spending more time online and may get exposed to pornography, says Amy Lang, the founder of Birds & Bees & Kids. Signal your openness to questions by providing them with developmentally appropriate books and introducing them to websites such as amaze.org and podcasts such as “Feeling My Flo.” They may want to read or listen on their own, but be willing to discuss the content afterward.
“The narrative is that it’s one talk, and there’s a giver and a receiver,” says sex educator Mackenzie Piper, senior manager of programs at Power to Decide. “We want to change that to be a whole lifetime of age-appropriate conversations.”
Values and meaning
The pandemic has upended school as we know it, both the setting and the role of grades and test scores. It’s a paradigm shift “that could broaden notions of what values go into a good, meaningful life,” Levine says. “We’ve had this incredibly limited view of success that’s so much about performance, but there’s this other set of skills that have been neglected, and I think that conversation is about values.”
“The disruption can be positive if parents are willing to get curious about who their kids are,” says Debbie Reber, founder of tiltparenting.com and author of “Differently Wired: Raising an Exceptional Child in a Conventional World.” “So many of our kids have strengths that have been overlooked. What matters is our kids understanding what they need to become self-actualized adults who can contribute their gifts, because they all have gifts. Maybe that’s an easier sell now.”
Ask questions such as: “What mattered to you this week? Why was that important to you?” Levine says. Then answer the same questions, sharing any disappointments and how you regrouped.
If your children have taken an interest in protests or finding ways to even the disparities in the world, seize the opportunity to help them live out their values. “Parents need to have daily conversations with their child about purpose,” Kafele says. When he taught fifth grade, he had students write essays on the seven principles of Kwanzaa, answering questions such as, “What will I do to forge productive relationships with other people in my school, home and community?” and “How will I go about determining my purpose, and then walk in it despite temptations to deviate from it?” He urges parents to ask their child similar questions.
“Tune into [their] concerns about the world, be it racism, poverty, climate change, bullying or homelessness, and encourage [them] to find a way to create positive change,” adds Michele Borba, the author of “UnSelfie: Why Empathetic Kids Succeed in Our All-About-Me World.” You can instill hope and empower them by pointing out the many ways people are working to make a difference, including “the thousands marching peacefully every day together as a multicultural front against hate,” she says.
“The best thing that can come out of this are kids who understand the vicissitudes of life in a way we wish would happen slower, but don’t underestimate the value of figuring out what to do with your time, how to care for one another and be part of a community,” Levine says. “The thing we have to be careful of is that we don’t come out of this, breathe a sigh of relief, and go right back to where we were. It just wasn’t working.”
It is not enough to say that we advocate for “culturally responsive” sex ed. We have to show that our sex education is as honest about racism as it is on any other topic.
Providing high quality sex education that reflects the experiences of Black students, and other students of color, is key.
It is not enough to say that we advocate for “culturally responsive” sex ed. We have to show that our sex education is as honest about racism as it is on any other topic.
Those of us who work in the field of sex education are no strangers to having difficult conversations. We have made great strides in orchestrating effective discussions around topics of sex, sexuality, and gender among parents, policymakers, educators, advocates, and young people. However, there is one topic that we all need to work to better address within sex education: race.
In response to the #MeToo movement, many leaders in the field jumped into action. We worked hard to advance and uplift necessary conversations and share resources on issues of consent and sexual violence. We were vocal in saying that if we could teach more young people, earlier on, about the dynamics of sexual violence, we could shift our country’s culture to better address the epidemic itself.
Today, as nationwide Black Lives Matter protests continue, leaders in the sex education field, including my organization SIECUS: Sex Ed for Social Change, need to respond just as loudly and clearly to racial injustice. We need to do our part to honor George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade, and the many other Black lives taken by police violence and white supremacy.
At SIECUS, we believe that sex education can, and should, advance racial justice. We have followed the lead of trailblazing groups and advocates, like the Women of Color Sexual Health Network (WOCSHN), to advocate for sex education to be taught through a racial justice lens. We have joined our partners within the Future of Sex Education Initiative to update and incorporate this approach into national sex education standards. But, still, we have so much more work to do.
This field is committed to ensuring that young people receive the information and skills they need to ensure their own lifelong health and well-being. Many of us regularly demand that sex ed include the experiences of LGBTQ+ youth. It is critical we do the same for Black youth.
“So how can we do better? How do we, as a field, work harder to advance racial justice through sex education?”
-Christine Soyong Harley
White supremacy touches every aspect of our history, culture, and institutions in the United States. Persistent racialized and sexualized stereotypes of Black people and other people of color are often used to justify the most regressive and harmful laws and policies that govern our country—from public assistance program requirements, to our criminal justice system, to our institutions of education.
Our history of racial injustice is intimately connected to longstanding myths that demonize and denigrate Black and other people of color’s sexuality and reproduction. We cannot pretend that these myths aren’t central to white supremacist debates of who is or is not a human being; of who can or cannot be an American; of who does or does not deserve to live.
So how can we do better? How do we, as a field, work harder to advance racial justice through sex education?
Providing high quality sex education that reflects the experiences of Black students, and other students of color, is key. Just as importantly, we must speak out against the harmful abstinence-only programs that our young people continue to receive. Federally funded abstinence-only grants often target low-income school districts, which are more likely to be filled with Black students. These shame-based programs, also called “sexual risk avoidance” are ineffective at achieving their own goals. Recently, these programs have started to center success sequencing, a theory that actively perpetuates racist stereotypes and assumptions.
It is not enough to say that Black people and other people of color are high risk groups for negative sexual health outcomes like HIV and other sexually transmitted infections (STIs). We need to also discuss the racist institutional failures behind such statistics. We must train sex educators to name and discuss how racism has affected our medical and educational institutions. From our country’s awful history of eugenics to present-day Black maternal mortality rates, there are countless examples of the powerful and damaging role that racism plays in Black and other people of color’s access to quality sexual and reproductive health-care services and information.
Our efforts to advance racial justice in sex education must also go beyond the content that students receive. We need to address the racism that exists within our mostly white-led field, too. It is past time we look inward to ask, who is leading sex ed organizations? Who sits on their boards? Who makes the decisions? And we must follow the lead of Black youth. That cannot be overstated. No one knows more about ensuring their health and well-being than Black people themselves.
We know that we have a lot of work to do at SIECUS. And we urge our colleagues and fellow advocates to join us in taking urgent and imperative steps to advance racial justice in sex education. To start, we can all vow to:
Ensure that our advocacy efforts center around providing sex education funding and resources to communities that are predominantly made up of Black students and other students of color—not just white, wealthy communities.
Promote sex education instruction and individual curricula that include the experiences of Black students and other students of color.
Urge sex educators to discuss racism and how it has shaped disparate access to health care and information for Black people and other communities of color.
Make space for Black sex educators, advocates, and experts to hold leadership positions within our movement, our organizations, and our schools.
Continue these efforts to advance racial justice regularly—not just in times of crisis. When protests die down and the headlines fade, this work must continue.
As we mourn for George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade, and the many, many other Black lives that have been taken by racism and hate, we commit to working harder to show up for Black people in both our work and in our lives.
It is not enough to say that we advocate for “culturally responsive” sex ed. We have to show that our sex education is as honest, accurate, and complete on racism as it is on any other topic.
If you are worried that you finish too quickly in bed, you are not alone – around 1 in 3 men in the US report having issues with premature ejaculation. It’s unclear why this happens, but scientists think it’s a combination of psychological and biological factors.
If you aren’t able to have sex for as long as you would like, there are several strategies that can help
How long does the average person last during sex?
The adult film industry often depicts sex going on for hours, which can give a false idea of how long sex should last, says Jamin Brahmbhatt, MD, a urologist at the PUR clinic.
According to a 2005 study conducted across 5 countries, vaginal sex generally lasts for around 5 to 6 minutes.
However, there’s no correct amount of time for sex to last and it’s up to you and your partner to decide what works best.
Why you might not be lasting as long as you want to
It’s common for men to finish too quickly once in a while, but if you nearly always ejaculate after less than a minute of sex, you may be diagnosed with premature ejaculation.
Psychology: Though the exact cause is not well known, “there are definitely psychological aspects to premature ejaculation,” Brahmbhatt says. Studies show that anxiety, particularly anxiety about your sexual performance, is linked to premature ejaculation. Feeling depressed, stressed out, or guilty can also make you more likely to finish quickly. Men may also experience premature ejaculation at higher rates if they have poor body image or are victims of sexual abuse.
Experience: Your level of sexual experience can also affect how long you last in bed. “Men may also climax faster if they are not having sex often or this is their first time engaging in any sexual activity,” Brahmbatt says.
High amounts of free testosterone: Studies show that men with premature ejaculation tend to have higher levels of free testosterone, which can lead to symptoms like loss of energy and low sex drive. . However, scientists say that more research is needed to determine why this is the case.
Hyperthyroidism: Premature ejaculation can also be caused by hyperthyroidism, a condition in which the thyroid gland in your neck produces too much of a hormone called thyroxine. Researchers aren’t sure why thyroid issues affect your sex stamina, but after being treated for hypothyroidism, men are much less likely to experience premature ejaculation.
How to last longer during sex
If you are struggling with finishing too early, here are a five things you can do that may help.
1. Condoms
Since premature ejaculation may be a result of hypersensitivity, using a condom is a simple solution that may make sex last longer. The condom forms a barrier around the penis that dulls sensation and may lead to delayed ejaculation.
2. The pause-squeeze method
The pause-squeeze method can be done while having sex or masturbating and involves:
Having sex until you feel that you are about to ejaculate.
And finally, continuing to have sex and repeating the technique as needed.
“They theory is you stop the flow, let the penis rest, and then go back at it to increase your time, Brahmbatt says.”
Brahmbatt says that this can be one of the more difficult treatments for premature ejaculation because it takes a lot of self-control. Practicing repeatedly and communicating clearly with your partner may help ease the process.
Over time, you may be able to train your body to delay ejaculation without using the squeeze maneuver.
3. Pelvic floor exercises
Your pelvic floor muscles lie just below your prostate and your rectum and just like other muscles, they can be strengthened through exercise. Experts believe that if pelvic floor muscles are too weak, it may be harder for you to delay your ejaculation.
To flex your pelvic floor muscles, act as if you are trying to stop yourself from peeing or passing gas and feel which muscles move. To tone these muscles, you should follow these steps:
Tighten the pelvic floor muscles – you can lie down or sit if this makes it easier.
Hold the muscles taut for 3 seconds.
Relax the muscles for 3 seconds.
Repeat the exercise as many times as needed.
See here for a more comprehensive guide to kegel exercises for both men and women.
If you are still struggling with finishing too early, your healthcare provider can help you or refer you to another expert healthcare provider, since there are also some medications or procedures that you might benefit from.
4. Numbing medications
Numbing medications use ingredients like lidocaine and prilocaine, which work by blocking the nerve signals that make you feel pleasure and pain. These medications generally come as creams or sprays and when they are applied to your penis, you will have decreased sensitivity, and are approved for use in premature ejaculation.
Numbing creams or sprays should be applied to the penis 20 to 30 minutes before sex. Because sexual pleasure will feel less intense, you may be able to delay your ejaculation.
There are some drawbacks to this method, however, as the medication can also decrease your partner’s sensitivity to pleasure. “Make sure your partner knows you are using it — as a heads up and also to make sure they don’t have a history or allergic reaction or problem with its use,” Brahmbatt says.
5. Viagra
Though sildenafil (Viagra) is usually prescribed to treat people who have trouble keeping an erection, research shows that it can help with premature ejaculation as well.
A 2007 study found that Viagra worked well to delay ejaculation and was more effective than the stop-squeeze technique. At the end of the study, 87 percent of subjects using Viagra said they wanted to continue this treatment, compared with 45 percent of subjects using stop and squeeze.
Premature ejaculation is a common condition but it can cause difficulties in your sex life or relationships. If none of these methods work to help you last longer in bed, contact your doctor to help you come up with the most appropriate treatment plan.
From Virginia Woolf’s Orlando and James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room to Alice Walker’s Pulitzer Prize-winning The Color Purple and Ocean Vuong’s 2019 debut — the queer literary landscape is vibrant, expansive and ready to be explored.
The history of queer literature is a long one. From Greek poet Sappho to Irish playwright Oscar Wilde, many writers have approached the challenges and pleasures of the LGBTQ+ experience with great depth and imagination. This hasn’t always been an easy endeavour; often, it’s been a history read in gaps and implied meaning, with obstructions for those depicting the nuances of sexuality and gender identity without censure. Thankfully, this has slowly changed, and the queer literary landscape is now both vibrant and expansive.
In fact, this list of 13 queer classics offers just a handful of the books that could have been chosen. For every inclusion, there is another notable absence. E.M. Forster, Ali Smith, Audre Lorde, Christopher Isherwood and numerous other novelists aren’t listed here, but have all written fantastic fiction that has helped both shape and pluralise the stories that now make up a queer canon. Think of these suggestions as a starting point — a handful of bold and brilliant books perfect for picking up at any time, with lots more to discover when all is read and done.
‘Giovanni’s Room’ by James Baldwin (1956)
Giovanni’s Room condenses an incredible sweep of emotion into its scant length. Detailing the fraught relationship between American David and Italian bartender Giovanni, the former narrates the tale of their time together over a night leading “to the most terrible morning of my life”. This terrible morning, we soon discover, marks the day of Giovanni’s execution. With this looming, David recounts the trials and tumult of their love affair, and, in doing so, sketches a complex portrait of masculinity at war with itself. It is an astonishingly vivid novel, grappling not only with the heady contours of desire, but also the disturbing consequences of shame and self-loathing.
‘The Line of Beauty’ by Alan Hollinghurst (2004)
Nick Guest has left university and summer is in full swing. Living in the Notting Hill house of an affluent school friend whose father is a Conservative politician, the book opens with Margaret Thatcher’s second election victory in 1983 and skilfully interlaces questions of politics, class, and sex. At first, Nick’s sexuality is largely hidden from the upper-class world he drifts into — with trysts in gated gardens and behind closed doors. But as time passes and the AIDS crisis develops, this no longer becomes possible. Taking aim at the hollow allure of wealth and the moral vacuum of Thatcher’s rule, Hollinghurst’s novel is sumptuous and increasingly sombre.
‘Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit’ by Jeanette Winterson (1985)
“People like to separate storytelling which is not fact from history which is fact. They do this so they know what to believe and what not to believe.” Jeanette Winterson’s debut, rooted in her own experiences of growing up as a lesbian in a Pentecostal adopted family, is structured around the religious texts that permeate protagonist Jeanette’s upbringing. Delving into what happens when the expected narratives — both theological and personal — are rejected, Winterson’s voice is fresh, startling, and funny. It’s a brilliant novel, illuminating the consequences of a devout and claustrophobic mother, and an institution that punishes nascent love with cruelty. For a follow-up, try Winterson’s 2011 memoir, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?.
‘Orlando’ by Virginia Woolf (1928)
Some novels are dialogues with difficult questions. Others aim to capture a particular history: cultural, collective, individual. A few are love letters. Orlando is all of the above. Inspired by and written for the magnetic, imposing Vita Sackville-West, with whom Virginia Woolf had a long affair, it follows the titular protagonist through three centuries of history, several romantic liaisons, one gender switch, and a very lengthy poetic project. It is a giddy read, full of humour and warmth as well as searching examinations of gender, sexuality, power and artistic process.
‘Paul Takes The Form of a Mortal Girl’ by Andrea Lawlor (2017)
What would happen if you transplanted Orlando to 1993 and added dozens more explicit sex scenes? The result would possibly look something like Andrea Lawlor’s Paul Takes The Form of a Mortal Girl. This raucous novel follows the adventures of Paul — also known as Polly — whose body is malleable, metamorphic, and endlessly hungry for pleasure. Able to physically transform at will, Paul revels in the sexual and romantic possibilities offered by numerous adjustments in face, height, torso, genitals, and more. Slipping between guises and identities, the polymorphous Paul offers a lucid look at trans identity — as playful as it is serious.
‘Dancer From The Dance’ by Andrew Holleran (1978)
Holleran’s book — dubbed ‘The Gay Great Gatsby’ — takes its title from a Yeats poem. It reads: “O body swayed to music, O brightening glance / How can we know the dancer from the dance?” It’s an apt reference, given the book’s preoccupation with observation, as well as the physical intimacies and distances found in a social whirl. Set in New York in a pre-AIDS era, Holleran brilliantly captures a generation of men for whom hedonism is never-ending, while desire, loneliness, and a restless wish for love continually jostle.
‘The Color Purple’ by Alice Walker (1982)
A devastating, but ultimately hopeful narrative told in a series of letters from protagonist Celie to God and her sister Nettie, Alice Walker won the Pulitzer Prize for The Color Purple in 1983. Detailing the stark realities of abuse, misogyny, and racism in rural Georgia, Walker’s novel offers both a damning indictment of institutionalised and culturally encoded oppression, and the tremendous potential found in reclaiming one’s life for oneself. With the introduction of blues singer Shug Avery, it also becomes a love story — one in which pleasure and passion is reciprocated, and female solidarity provides great solace.
‘Carol’ by Patricia Highsmith (1952)
Published under the pseudonym “Claire Morgan”, the formerly titled The Price of Salt swiftly became a runaway hit. Inspired by a “blondish” woman in a mink coat who had made her feel “odd and swimmy in the head” while working at Macy’s (and influenced too by her relationship with heiress Virginia Kent Catherwood), Highsmith conjured a love story full of erotic charge. Documenting the unfolding relationship between 19-year-old Therese and thirtysomething Carol, it is a crisply observed story in which desire simmers and the constrictions of nuclear family life are stifling. At the time, it was praised for its open-ended suggestion of a happy future. In recent years, it’s enjoyed a renaissance thanks to Todd Haynes’ stylish film.
‘On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous’ by Ocean Vuong (2019)
Language, lust, addiction and inherited trauma coalesce in Ocean Vuong’s debut. Written in the form of a letter from a son to a mother who can’t read it, Vuong combines the precision and lyricism of his poetry with the varied forms of intimacy that exist between lovers, between parent and child, and between the ill and well. Growing up with a Vietnamese mother and grandmother for whom war and violence have left deep imprints, the novel’s speaker Little Dog approaches the question of survival with searching intensity. Combining fragmented memories of childhood with an account of his first troubled love — Trevor, the 16-year-old son of a tobacco farmer — Vuong’s narrative of growing up gay and escaping is tender and heartbreaking.
‘America is Not the Heart’ by Elaine Castillo (2018)
Hero goes by several names. Named Geronima De Vera, in the Philippines she is known as Nimang. But on arrival in Milpitas, near San Francisco, her seven-year-old niece dubs her Hero. It’s a nickname both uneasy and fitting for a woman whose life has taken several distinct turns, from a wealthy upbringing, to a decade as a doctor in the New People’s Army, to two years of torture, to a new beginning in the US. Arriving with broken thumbs and a brittle exterior, Hero’s affections unravel slowly. Castillo’s book is sprawling and energetic: sharp in its interrogations of language, immigration, and class, and bold-hearted in its depiction of Hero’s frank, unsentimental approach to sex and love — with things complicated and transformed by local beautician Rosalyn.
‘Stone Butch Blues’ by Leslie Feinberg (1993)
“The law said we needed to be wearing three pieces of women’s clothing. We never switched clothing. Neither did our drag queen sisters. We knew, and so did you, what was coming. We needed our sleeves rolled up, our hair slicked back, in order to live through it.” Leslie Feinberg’s novel is a blistering and incisive depiction of lesbian and trans experience. Exploring the life of Jess Goldberg, a working-class gender-queer butch lesbian growing up in 1950s Buffalo before moving to New York, Feinberg sheds light on horrific police brutality and queer networks of community and care, and asks what it means (and what it takes) to resist.
‘Under the Udala Trees’ by Chinelo Okparanta (2015)
In 2014, Nigeria’s then-President Goodluck Jonathan signed the Same-Sex Marriage Prohibition Act with incredibly serious sanctions ranging from imprisonment to death. This sobering fact forms the author’s endnote in Chinelo Okparanta’s moving, sparingly written novel. A coming-of-age tale taking place against the backdrop of the Nigerian civil war, it focuses on a young Igbo woman named Ijeoma who struggles to reconcile faith, family, and her sexuality. Coming to terms with being a lesbian in a culture hostile to homosexuality, Okparanta skilfully weaves between resignation and revelation — unstinting in her focus on the horrors of both war and deep prejudice, while offering a fragile note of hope.
‘After The Parade’ by Lori Ostlund (2015)
As Aaron Englund leaves his older partner after 20 years, his life packed up in the back of a truck, the past constantly infiltrates his chosen future. Relocating to San Francisco, disturbing recollections from childhood mingle with examinations of his time with Walter — a quiet, ordered man who wished “to serve as benefactor to Aaron’s wishes and ambitions, and so bind Aaron to him.” In breaking free of all that has tethered him, Aaron finds room to unravel a complex web of trauma and loss. After The Parade is a stunningly written book, deft in its understanding of love and alienation.
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