2 posts tagged “condoms”
Being a redhead means I don't just have fragile veins, I have thin skin. I blush with almost no provocation and often without even being aware I am blushing. I get red in the face when I'm mad, when I'm mildly annoyed, when I'm pleased, when I laugh, and certainly when I showed teenagers how to use a condom, I blushed like crazy. I think that's one of the reasons the kids always liked me. I was just this normal 20-something girl who blushed and laughed and had fun while I was showing them how to wrestle a condom onto a penis. This did not, in general, win me any points with public school teachers* in Kansas, though. I could be just as cute and mildly embarrassed and game for being teased as I wanted to be, but they disapproved of me being there at all. They particularly disapproved of my pair of life-sized erect silicone complete-with-testicles penis models: one pink, one brown.
The teachers weren't afraid to disapprove to my face or in front of their students right before my presentation. They were happy to tell students that it was "inappropriate" for this sort of thing to be shown in school. People should learn about this at home, they said. Invariably that meant I started my presentations by asking the kids whether their parents had shown them how to use condoms at home yet. Never, not in three years, not in the estimated 400 public school presentations I racked up, did even one kid raise his/her hand to say, "Yes, my parents have already shown my how to use a condom." Not one.
For those of you who've used them, you know how awkward it is, how embarrassing it is, how difficult it is to get it right, especially when you're new at it. Yet it's one of the most important, life-and-health-saving devices that people need to know how to use. And most schools don't show kids anything about it. (They don't in Kansas anymore, in part because Planned Parenthood in Wichita no longer has a sex educator as stubborn and impervious to insult as I am.)
With current estimates of 7 in 10 Americans sexually active by age 19, this refusal to teach kids about using condoms is on par with giving a kid a driver's license without ever letting him get behind the wheel of a car. Like turning a student loose in woodshop class with just a brochure to show her how the machines work and what safety measures to use. Kids have genitals, they don't need a license to use them, and if we don't offer them some safety training, they're likely to get hurt.
We shouldn't act surprised by recent studies that show 1 in 4 teenage girls have a sexually transmitted infection. Hell, that number is a bit of a lie. If only 70% of teenage girls are sexually active, the more important number that arises is that 1 of those 4 teenage girls isn't even at risk of getting an STI. That means that 1 in 3 sexually active teenage girls have an STI. A third.
Telling kids about condoms isn't enough. Mentioning the word condom during an abstinence presentation isn't enough. Teenagers need to see how a condom works, see an "expert" put one on an erect (model) penis, and they need to be offered a chance to try it themselves. Even at the schools where teachers didn't give me a hard time about my penis, they didn't want their students to touch it.
I always thought that was why my natural tendency to blush worked for me. It allowed me to have some fun, allowed me to confess: yeah, it's kind of embarrassing for me to do this in front of 30 giggling teenagers. Now, imagine what it's going to be like trying to get one on in front of just one giggling teenager. Now, imagine how much more embarrassing it'll be if you have to tell your parents that you're pregnant, or if you have to go to the doctor and explain how you've got some weird yellow stuff coming out of your penis.
The whole thing is embarrassing, but if we can help kids get over that hump, we might be able to cut down on the number of kids whose health and fertility is at risk from infections.
*A special shout out to the employees of various child welfare agencies and group homes in Kansas, especially Jing and Trudy and Leon. You never made me feel unwelcome and you were always eager for your kids to learn the truth about sex and learn to protect themselves.
I went to Target for a few items and while I was looking at light bulbs, a pair of skwerly teenage boys approached me, one pushing an empty shopping cart, the other carrying some sort of ceramic Spider-Man head. For convenience we'll call them Dip and Shit.
Dip: Hey, look what I found. (holding the Spider-Man head toward me.)
Me: Yeah, that's awesome, dude. (backing away.)
Dip: There's something stuck in it, though. Can you help me get it out?
Me: Sorry, you're on your own with that.
Dip: Please, won't you just help me?
At that point, he was too close, so I put my hand up and said, "Back off, you little jackass."
Shit: Why are you being so rude to him?
Dip: Yeah, why won't you just help me?
Me: Look, assholes, I get it. You're trying to pull some kind of prank involving whatever you've stuffed into Spidey's head, but you're failing miserably.
Dip & Shit: Uhhhh...
Me: Do you know why you're failing?
Dip & Shit: (giving each other skwerly looks, because they can't decide what to do.)
Me: You're failing, because this is a grade school prank, and you're, what? Fifteen or sixteen. Plus, you've got your dopey friend just hanging back with the shopping cart. If he's your friend, why doesn't he help you? See why it doesn't work? It screams set-up. If you want this to work, you've got to change the dynamics. At your age, this prank only works if one of you pretends to be a retard and the other one pretends to be his embarrassed friend. Or better yet, develop a prank that works with your age. Now go away and stop bothering me.
So, I picked out my light bulbs and moved on to my next item: cat litter. As I was loading the cat litter into the cart, what do you think I heard? Dip & Shit trying their prank in the next aisle. I'll give them this: they were able to take a critique and learn from it. They were playing it with Shit as the retard and Dip as the embarrassed friend, who would arrive too late and apologize. I went around the corner and barreled down on them like my hair was on fire.
Me: Kenny, Dylan, what are you doing?
(Now I have no idea what their names were, but I used the infuriated Mom voice and that was enough to get them both to flinch guiltily. By then I was right on top of them and the hapless grandma they were trying to prank.)
Me: Didn't I warn you not to try this stunt again? Ma'am, I'm so sorry. Were they trying to pull a prank on you?
Grandma: Oh, I don't know...
Me: I am so sorry. He was pretending to be retarded, wasn't he? Dylan, I swear, my patience with that cruel little joke is over. I want you boys to go wait in the car for me, and so help me god, if you aren't out there when I finish here, I'll leave you. You can just walk home. Now go!
Dip & Shit fled, leaving the Spider-Man head in Grandma's hands. What had they stuffed in it for their prank? A package of condoms.
Ten minutes later, I had the last thing on my list, a new filter for the furnace, and I was making my way back to the cashier when I heard someone in the aisle ahead of me, crying and saying, "Billy, where are you? Help! I lost my friend, Billy. Can you help me find my friend?" Yup, it was Dip (or Kenny, as I now thought of him) playing retarded. I skidded around the next aisle, just in time to cut off his faux-retard-lope with my cart. His eyes went wild when he saw me.
Dip: Why are you hassling us?
Me: Because you annoyed me and you're still annoying me. And Billy? What kind of pathetically obvious fake name is that?
Dip: We were just messing around.
Me: No, you were annoying me. If you want to pull pranks, that's fine, but you need to go over to Wal-Mart to do it.
Dip: Wha--why?
Me: Because I don't shop at Wal-Mart. If you don't get out of here, I'll show you what a prank really looks like. You want to know what'll happen after I tell the security guard you pulled your pants down and flashed me?
He wasn't stupid. He ran.
