Sex Ed and the Diseased Children of the Revolution

HT: KC

What do Americans want their children to learn about sex?  Throughout history, two conservative authors recently argued,[*] most Americans have wanted children to learn the values of abstinence and purity.  Only the 1960s sexual revolution turned perversion and license into mainstream public-school how-to lessons.

The essay, by National Abstinence Education Association President Valerie Huber and Cedarville University psychology professor Michael Firmin, appeared in the recent issue of the peer-reviewed journal International Journal of Educational Reform.  For those of us who are interested in understanding conservatism in education, this article offers a chance to see conservative thinking in action.

There are a few odd copy errors.  Prominent education historian Milton Gaither, for example, is called “Milton Caither.”  But far more interesting than these flaws are the interpretative implications of the authors’ historical vision.

Before I describe them, though, I should point out my own biases.  I have a difficult time understanding conservative opposition to comprehensive sex education.  In my upcoming book about the twentieth-century career of educational conservatism, I describe such opposition, especially in my chapter about the 1970s.  But I still have a hard time understanding it.  To me, it seems like simple common sense that schools should provide thorough, accurate information about sex to young people.  Public schools should not moralize about sex, but whether or not students choose to have sex, they should know about the facts of life.  With the huge public-health implications of pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases, it seems to me a simple matter of common sense that schools should teach everyone about sex.

However, as I’ve struggled to understand conservative opposition to comprehensive sex ed in public schools, I feel I’ve gained some insight.  Though I want public schools to teach kids all the facts and let the kids and their families determine the morality involved, I can sympathize with conservatives who feel that such an approach tips the discussion too far in the “pro-sex” direction.  I consider the following analogy: if your spouse were traveling on business, would you make sure he or she had condoms along in case s/he decided to have sex while s/he was gone?  That doesn’t make much sense.  Or this one: could a teacher tell students, “If you’re planning on robbing a bank, here are some ways to do it safely?”  In other words, if a behavior is obviously morally unacceptable, we shouldn’t teach young people how to do it safely.  We shouldn’t imply that we condone such immorality by helping children (or spouses) do it without consequence.  Some conservatives think that pre-marital sex is precisely this sort of immoral behavior.  Such conservatives insist that by telling young people about sex in a morally neutral fashion, we suggest that premarital sex is okay.

Huber’s and Firmin’s history of sex ed portrays an American people deeply convinced that sex is best saved for marriage.  Only perverts and revolutionaries challenged that notion.

For instance, the first prominent “pro-sex” campaigner Huber and Firmin describe is Margaret Sanger.  In the 1920s, the authors note, Sanger advocated birth control as a way to empower women and to limit the numbers of undesirable births.  Sanger’s recreational approach to sex was “radical,” the authors contend, but it became an “early influence” on sex ed in schools.

In the 1940s and 1950s, Alfred Kinsey took the study of sex to new extremes, according to Huber and Firmin.  Kinsey studied the sexual practices of a “nonrepresentative proportion of sex offenders and participants in the homosexual bathhouse community,” the authors contend.  Kinsey proffered his witches’ brew of demented sexual proclivity as unbiased research, including outlandish claims that infants had orgasms.  As did Margaret Sanger, Kinsey laid the foundations for a morality of “sexual experimentation,” according to Huber and Firmin.

It was not until the 1960s, however, that such radical notions about sex and sex education became mainstream.  The sexual revolution of that decade, Huber and Firmin argue, “turned America’s moral sensibility on its head.”  During the late 1960s and early 1970s, a new culture of sex education took America by storm, midwived by the “[l]ong hair, open-air sexual orgies, drugs, student rebellions, Vietnam, and racial tensions” of the period.

By the 1980s, luckily, “innovative organizations” had organized a sensible and effective “counterrevolution.”  These groups promoted the American tradition of sex education as abstinence-only education.  Only such education combined information about sex with the moral underpinnings that young people need.

Today, according to Huber and Firmin, most Americans agree with an abstinence-only approach to sex-ed in public schools.  Though the “public relations” efforts of “pro-sex” groups such as Planned Parenthood have had some success, the authors note that “the majority of parents, regardless of race or political party, strongly endors[e] all the major themes presented in an abstinence education class.”  As evidence, they cite a 2012 survey from the National Abstinence Education Foundation.

As I’ve argued in the pages of Teachers College Record, conservative activists have an intense interest in educational history.  It makes sense.  Whoever controls the history can make policy recommendations that claim to be in synch with American tradition.  In this case, Valerie Huber and Michael Firmin give us a history in which Americans want their children to learn the values of abstinence and purity.  Throughout the generations, some radicals such as Sanger and Kinsey have strummed a minor chord of recreational sex and gleeful perversion.  Only with the irresponsible sexual revolution of the 1960s, though, did such attitudes enter public schools in any significant number.  Thanks to the work of earnest abstinence-only “counterrevolutionaries,” however, America’s schools have hope.  Today’s schoolchildren, these conservative authors argue, can learn the real tradition of American sex ed.

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[*] The article does not seem to be available without a subscription.  For those with access to a decent library, here’s the citation to help you find the full article: Huber, Valerie J., and Michael W. Firmin. “A history of sex education in the United States since 1900.” International Journal of Educational Reform 23.1 (2014): 25+.

 

Learning Purity

Where do young Christian girls learn that they are supposed to be sexually pure?  A photographer recently claimed that it was something girls wanted, something not imposed on them by their families.

As usual, your trusty editor at ILYBYGTH is behind the times.  Apparently, this series of purity-ball photographs by Swedish photographer David Magnusson attracted a good deal of attention several weeks ago.  At these balls, girls dress up in elaborate gowns, dance with their fathers, and finally pledge sexual abstinence.

Purity

Not surprisingly, bloggers and journalists reacted with some predictable outrage to this combination of precocious sexuality, gender coercion, and daddy-ism.  For instance, Tom Hawking called the photos “weird” and “terrifying.”  “It’s hard to know where to start with this:” Hawking wrote,

the notion of sex as “impurity,” the fact that it’s all daughters and no sons, the idea of dressing a preteen girl in something that looks awfully like a wedding dress.

The photographer presented himself as an intrigued outsider.  At first, Magnusson said, he thought these purity balls would be nothing more than another American tragedy.  As he remembered, “I imagined American fathers terrified of anything that might hurt their daughters’ or their family’s honor.” But as he learned more about them, he came to a new understanding. The balls represented something initiated often by the daughters themselves. As Magnusson put it,

It was also often the girls themselves that had taken the initiative to attend the balls. They had made their decisions out of their own conviction and faith, in many cases with fathers who didn’t know what a Purity Ball was before first being invited by their daughters.

As we’ve wrestled with before at ILYBYGTH, purity culture can have educational consequences. Some argue that purity culture encourages a culture of sexual victimization on the campuses of conservative Christian colleges.

PurityBut Magnusson’s claim raises new questions. If, as he asserts, girls don’t learn about purity balls from their families, where do they learn about them? More importantly, where do girls learn that they want to take part in this sort of ceremony? We should be skeptical about Magnusson’s claim that girls themselves chose freely to take part in these ceremonies. That sort of “choice” can involve all sorts of subtle and not-so-subtle influence from parents and others. But it seems plausible that some girls embrace these ideas. And it seems plausible that some girls lead their fathers to this event, not vice versa.

If that’s the case, we need to wonder where girls got the idea. Certainly, some schools teach abstinence-only education curricula that promote a “purity” notion of proper femininity. And independent curricular programs such as True Love Waits have had success in reaching young people as parachurch organizations.

As always, these questions demonstrate the infinitely complicated nature of education. It is difficult to imagine a tradition like purity balls succeeding unless young people had been taught to embrace such a thing. Who taught them? And how?

 

Superman & Sex Ed in Mississippi

Superman004Why is it so difficult for people like me to understand entrenched opposition to sex ed?

Part of the problem must come from cartoonish journalism like that of Andy Kopsa in a recent Atlantic article.

Kopsa investigated the meanings of a sex-ed law in Mississippi, House Bill 999.  This law mandates abstinence-only or “abstinence-plus” sex ed in Mississippi schools.  According to Kopsa, Mississippi schools now need to choose from two approved programs, Choosing the Best and WAIT.  Districts may also add information about contraception.  This makes up the “plus” in abstinence-plus.

Always eager to find out more about conservative attitudes and beliefs about sex education, I read the article right away.  To my disappointment, I didn’t find out much.

What does any of this have to do with Superman?  Kopsa’s sort of writing about conservative ideas reminds me of the early years of comics.  The villains in early Superman comics did not need any explanation; Lex Luthor tried to control or destroy the world because he was the bad guy.  That was the sort of thing bad guys did.

In real life—and in more interesting comic books—things are not that simple.  One of the most important things sex-ed supporters like me can do is try to understand the conservative opposition.  Not only mock or attack them, but try to get inside their heads to see their motivations and desires.

Unfortunately, that was not Kopsa’s goal.  Her article paints the opposition to effective sex ed in black-and-white tones.  Mississippi Governor Phil Bryant doesn’t educate teenagers, he only prays with them.  According to Kopsa, Bryant used public money and strong-armed the Department of Health to fund an abstinence-only “Teen Pregnancy Prevention Summit.”  Why does Bryant do these things?  Apparently because these are the things Lex-Luthor-style conservatives do.

Kopsa describes supporters of more effective sex ed, on the other hand, in glowing terms.  Kopsa met with six “experts” who pushed for more sex ed in Mississippi.  One of them, Betti Watters, was a “tiny powerhouse of a lady in her 60s with perfect white platinum hair and pearls. . . .”

Such heroes had battled for decades to improve sex ed in Mississippi.  While Kopsa makes a convincing argument that the sorts of abstinence-only programs now on offer in Mississippi schools are devastatingly inadequate, she gives us no sense of why they are the best Watters can produce.

Doubtless Watters could have provided us with some insights into the ideas of her conservative opponents.  We could have learned about the religious and traditionalist notions that make real sex ed such anathema to conservative Mississippians.

Such questions do not seem to interest Kopsa.  It is a shame.

I think Mississippians deserve effective sex education.  I think young people deserve to learn about condoms and contraception.  I agree with Kopsa that this is a life-or-death issue, with high HIV infection rates and pregnancy rates among Mississippi’s young population.

But hagiography doesn’t help.  In order to understand conservative policies, we need to understand conservative thinking from the inside out.