Comprehensive sexual education provided by universities can help students navigate their developing identities, relationships and choices
I know how to find the hypotenuse of a triangle. I can name each of the planets in our solar system. I can even list several literary devices. But if you ask me what I learned about sexual health over the span of the five years it’s taught in the public school curriculum, I could tell you nothing. Absolutely nothing. Unfortunately, the awkward giggles, bewildered expressions and uncomfortable atmosphere are all that’s cemented in my brain years later.
As young adults transitioning from high school to university, life on campus introduces opportunities to explore new relationships, new experiences and new choices.
However, as students begin to pursue sexual experiences, they’re forced to rely on sub-par sex-ed from high-school, conversations with friends or searches on the web – which aren’t always reliable.
Given the diversity of students at university, it’s important to recognize the various experiences and levels of exposure individuals have received to sexual education.
With the need for more comprehensive sex-ed, universities can help bridge the knowledge gap left by schools. They can create safe and accessible spaces that encourage learning about sexual health and well-being in unbiased and non-judgemental ways.
Depending on where students come from, sex and sexual health may be severely stigmatized. As a result, the formal sexual education curriculum may be minimal to non-existent, leaving many international students with a poor understanding of sexuality, reproductive health and rights.
Even for domestic students who receive curriculum-based sex-ed in Canada, the content is not culturally inclusive and fails to take a holistic approach.
All students, and especially Black, Indigenous and People of Colour students, would benefit from an anti-racist approach to sexual education that decolonizes, Indigenizes and dismantles systems of oppression. Such an approach to sex-ed offered in post-secondary settings would open opportunities for important dialogues that include the Black, Indigenous and other racialized experiences.
These communities have also been disproportionately affected by poor health outcomes, such as higher rates of sexual violence and sexually transmitted infections, due to various determinants including low socioeconomic status, inequitable access to healthcare and a lack of trust in the healthcare systems that have a history of racism, discrimination and structural violence. An anti-racist sex-ed framework could offer better support for these communities.
It is also critical to support the disconnect young adults with diverse identities experience when navigating their sexuality and health. For instance, the colonization and historical trauma experienced by the Indigenous community still deeply affect their ability to relate to the content taught in school curriculums. Likewise, 2SLGBTQ2IA+ students need access to better support and a sex-ed curriculum that remains inclusive of their experiences and provides evidence-based information to promote positive sexual health outcomes.
It is also critical that students with disabilities receive proper access to comprehensive sex-ed. Too often, individuals with disabilities are stripped of their dignity and autonomy and that needs to change. Applying health equity and justice frameworks to centre the experiences and voices of oppressed groups is key to ensuring all individuals are able to express their sexuality on their own terms.
Sex-ed matters. It gives students power over their identity, sexuality, health, relationships and more importantly, their future.
Everyone has the right to comprehensive sexual education and I believe that a comprehensive sexual education curriculum is an intersectional and equitable one. Comprehensive sexual education incorporates the narratives of BIPOC communities, rather than outdated and oppressive frameworks from the past. It also provides students with the opportunity to learn about topics beyond reproductive health such as healthy relationships, sexual violence prevention, body image, gender identity and sexual orientation.
With the need for more comprehensive sex-ed, universities can help bridge the knowledge gap left by schools. They can create safe and accessible spaces that encourage learning about sexual health and well-being in unbiased, nonjudgmental ways.
Depending on where students come from, sex and sexual health may be severely stigmatized. As a result, the formal sexual education curriculum may be minimal to non-existent, leaving many international students with a poor understanding of sexuality, reproductive health and rights.
And while the McMaster Students Union services like the Student Health Education Centre, Women & Gender Equity Network and the Pride Community Centre are already working towards disseminating this knowledge and providing resources for students, McMaster has a unique opportunity to do more.
By implementing comprehensive sex-ed during Welcome Week and orientation for incoming students and offering regular support through the Student Wellness Centre, McMaster can promote positive sexual health outcomes and leave their students feeling sexually-empowered with a greater recognition for their dignity and bodily autonomy.
Sex-ed is an ongoing process and shouldn’t stop in high school. As we continue to grow and discover ourselves, the relevancy of sex-ed increases and so does the need for universities to equip their students with accessible support and evidence-based resources.
Students reflect on the importance of sex education both before and during university
Growing up, I took a lot of art lessons. I remember one class our teacher brought out a rickety, old, wooden chair from the back room and put it on top of her desk. The chair would be the focus for this lesson, she explained, but we weren’t going to draw it.
We were going to draw everything around it — the desk it was standing on, the wall behind it and all the papers tacked to it, just not the chair.
Sex education is often defined in the same way: in terms of everything that it isn’t. This is especially true of sex education in schools. Long since a controversial topic, the debate around the content of sex education in schools often revolves around the negatives, that is, what shouldn’t be featured or what isn’t.
However, though the emphasis is typically put on sex education in schools, it is also worth noting that education doesn’t end in an institution. We’re also educated, implicitly or explicitly through our culture, our experiences, our families, the media we consume, our religion and many more places. Education happens everywhere.
It also happens in the negative space left behind and what we don’t say or do is just as important as what we do.
It also happens in the negative space left behind and what we don’t say or do is just as important as what we do.
“It's kind of like cultural conditioning. Whatever you're conditioned to do at home, you're going to do outside of the home as well. So if at home, you're taught to be embarrassed about menstruation, about sex, you're going to project that once you leave home as well. It's hard to unlearn things, especially when they've been culturally inherited because that's just all you've known,” said third-year student Japleen Thind.
“I come from a culture that doesn’t really value sex education. This is a very dangerous mindset . . . it caused me to have the wrong idea about sex education and it caused me a lot of trouble,” explained fourth-year student Shae-Ashleigh Owen.
In my conversation with students, there was a very clear distinction between their experiences and thoughts about sex education before and after coming to university.
Before University
Before coming to university, most students described sex education as something that happened almost exclusively in schools. For many students, it happened with male and female students having separate discussions, often in entirely different rooms.
“When I think back to my experiences, I remember any time that boys and girls were together, it would be a lot of hushed giggles and a lot of people being embarrassed and not really wanting to talk. So having that divisiveness in all honestly was kind of effective. Like when the girls were learning about periods, we could ask questions, we could be open . . . That being said, there are repercussions. That is a very fundamental way that we install stigma around things like periods and other sexual education topics,” said Raisa Ahmed, a fifth-year student.
“That kind of separation throughout sex education was definitely very prevalent in my experience. We were split up into our groups, we’d go into separate rooms and we learned different things. And then it kind of felt like this secret, like, “I know all these things now that the boys don't know” and I feel like you don't think about that when you're younger, about how you're learning different things than they are. But then when you get older, you realize it's kind of important that everyone learns the same thing so that we're all equally knowledgeable about sexual health and anything relating to that,” said Micaela McNulty, a fourth-year student.
It should be noted that while the Ontario public school sex education curriculum was revised most recently in 2019, students currently in university who attended Ontario public schools would have been taught using the 1998 curriculum. A smaller portion would have also been taught using the 2015 curriculum put forward by former Liberal premier Kathleen Wynne.
The 1998 curriculum was not as comprehensive as the 2015 one, as it did not address gender identity and sexual orientation. This lack of representation was something that many students felt strongly about, both at the time and looking back. They wished it had been discussed in more detail.
“[We] didn't cover queer and trans sex education, which for many queer trans students is super harmful. And it's hard for them because they don't get that knowledge from anywhere else, especially if they're not living in an environment or a home that may be conducive to having those conversations,” explained Christian Barborini, a fifth-year student.
“[We] didn't cover queer and trans sex education, which for many queer trans students is super harmful,” explained Christian Barborini, a fifth-year student.
Looking back, students noted they had a much better understanding of what they wished they had learned, while as children they didn’t quite grasp the gravity of the topics being discussed. Some suggested that this might have been because they hadn’t yet had any experience applying their education.
At University
Experience tends to fill in the gaps of education, however, those experiences aren’t always positive.
“Truthfully, I feel like most of my sex ed learning has come from being sexually active and being in university. It's such a crazy environment. I feel like you're so young and you're going into these experiences and there's just so much I didn't know . . . I wish I knew about consent and stigma and UTIs and yeast infections and so much stuff that wasn't covered. And it sort of makes me angry a bit . . . I just had to learn by experience and that sucked,” said Mavis Lyons, a fourth-year student.
Some students also noted that negative experiences in particular can isolate students, making it difficult for them to feel connected to the community or leaving them vulnerable to further negative experiences.
Overall, experience brought up questions or thoughts that students may not have even considered in the classroom education. This is why many students felt that sex education shouldn’t end in Grade 9, as it does in most Ontario public schools. Like all education, it is an ongoing process and it would be beneficial if the formal education system reflected that.
“Obviously, that doesn't mean that we shouldn't start early. But I think when we teach developing kids and young adults, it doesn't resonate as much until they're older and have actually experienced that stuff. You're not going to remember everything you learned in Grade 8 or Grade 9. So you need that constant education and to be constantly connecting those points as you go along, otherwise it's not really going to mean anything,” explained Ahmed.
Sex education — or lack thereof — can have significant influences on students’ wellbeing and sense of community. But open conversation can go a long way to improving both of those issues.
Since coming to university, many students have gravitated towards spaces where there is the opportunity for such conversation, such as the Pride Community Centre, the Women and Gender Equity Network or clubs like Period at McMaster.
“I needed a space like the PCC when it came to university because I didn't have that before. So I think that that speaks to the importance of community and community organization, especially for marginalized communities when it comes to sexual health because we don't get that anywhere else. I know that for me understanding sexuality and my sexuality specifically was a journey that did affect my mental health at one point when I started university and, connecting it back to the PCC, that's the reason why I value the PCC and other queer organizations that I have worked for. Because they've offered me that space to explore my identity that I didn't get in elementary and high school,” said Barborini, who is also the coordinator at the PCC.
“It felt almost therapeutic just having a space to discuss what your experiences are, especially on a taboo topic. I think that can be really helpful . . . just having an open space to talk about your experiences has been really valuable,” explained Thind, who is a member of Period at McMaster.
Students felt that these spaces have been especially beneficial to their mental health and their overall sense of wellbeing. Their involvement in groups such as these has helped them better understand topics related to sex education and health.
“Now that I went to university, especially with [Period at McMaster], I found more people who have had experiences like mine and I don't find it embarrassing anymore . . . I feel super comfortable talking about it now,” explained Celia Arrecis, co-president of Period at McMaster.
These groups also provide a vital sense of community.
“I think just the sense of community in the sense of having like-minded people around me who care about the same things [has] been a pretty positive influence on my mental health,” added Ahmed, who is the founder and co-president of Period at McMaster.
Conversation is essential to encouraging education and both are integral to fostering a sense of community. There is an increasing awareness about the importance of both, thanks in part to McMaster clubs and community organizations. Moving forward it’s important that we continue to have open conversations and educate ourselves so that we can bring sex education out of the negative space it’s occupied for so long.
We are stronger together when we love one another
C/O Jon Tyson on Unsplash
In 2020, I was given the insurmountable task as Arts and Culture Editor to create and produce the Silhouette’s annual love and positivity issue, Sex and the Steel City. A tradition for each person in my role, the beginning of SATSC dates back at least 10 years ago.
While it has evolved over the years with each A&C Editor giving it their own spin, the core values remain the same: to give the McMaster and Hamilton communities a creative outlet to talk about sex, body postivity, identity and love. In recent years, SATSC has focused on diversity, self-identity and this year, we focus on education — both formal and informal.
Over the last three years, we have seen a regressional way of thinking from our provincial government. One of the first acts that Premier Doug Ford enacted when elected was to repeal the then-new sex education curriculm.
Updated in 2015 by Kathleen Wynne’s Liberal government, this was the first revision sex-ed had seen since 1998. Topics surrounding 2SLGBTQIA+ communities, sexting, gender identity and consent were added to better keep up with modern values. Instead, the Ford government proposed a new curriculum; however, after much lobbying by students, little was changed.
In the United States and around the world, homophobia and transphobia still run rampant. Sex work continues to be criminalized. Many still wonder if they should teach their kids about “taboo” subjects. While these are issues that are larger than any one person, these are topics that are explored in this year’s Sex and the Steel City. Our way of acknowledging and bringing awareness to these issues that continue to plague society.
Now more than ever, we need unity. We live in a divided world. We live on a divided continent. We live in a divided nation. We live in a divided province. Now is the time to take action, to stand up for what you believe in. Now is the time to unite (albeit virtually) to create change and to be a voice for the voiceless.
Sex and the Steel City is a small annual reminder of that unity that we should all strive for. I hope you take the time to read through the 36 pages of this extended special issue. May this issue serve as a reminder: a reminder that we are stronger together when we love one another.
Content warning: graphic discussion of sexuality and discussion of sexual dysfunction disorder
2015 was an exciting year: we found liquid water on Mars, I started at McMaster, we had a federal election, and Ontario unveiled its new sexual education and health curriculum.
The new Ontario government is reverting to the previous version which debuted in 1998. I was living my best life back then, but little did I know that I would suffer greatly at the hands of the 1998 sex ed curriculum.
Not to spoil my story but to give some context, I have to actively tell myself that I am worthy of love.
Words like consent, clitoris, sexual dysfunction and gay never came up in my sex ed classes. Instead, I was told to be afraid, to fear and be ashamed of my body and the consequences that my actions can have on it. The only way to truly love yourself is to be modest, chaste or to be fearful and in awe of the power of God.
The 1998 sex ed curriculum was bad but together, with traditional Catholic views and easily impressionable youth, you’ve got quite the unholy trinity.
It took me too long to acknowledge how harmful and false my formal sex education was. In elementary school, I was told over and over that sex and sexuality are only for straight, married couples. In grade 4, I asked my teacher how babies are made. My class yelled at me, “oh my god why would you ask that?”, or “you just want attention!” My teacher sent us away to collect her thoughts.
After recess she sat us down, took a deep breath, and said that babies are made “through sexual intercourse”. We giggled, while relief washed over her face. In hindsight, I am certain that she consulted other teachers on how to handle such an inappropriate and controversial question.
The rest of elementary school was filled with poorly labelled drawings and insistence of fear. It worked. If you fear God and follow His teachings, you won’t hurt yourself or others. This seemed reasonable; I do try to avoid pain where I can.
One such instance of this is my refusal to wear tampons. When I finally found my vagina, with the assistance of my mom at the ripe age of 13, I found it too painful to insert the tampon. Skipping 5 weekly practices once a month really sets you back as an athlete.
Another question my classmates and I had was that if sex before marriage is so bad, then why isn’t it one of the Ten Commandments? How foolish we were to think adultery was only possible in current relationships. By having sex before marriage, you are robbing your future spouse of the chance to share that with you and only you.
In high school, we watched a video of a woman repenting for her premarital sex. She was so ashamed and so sorry, but her darling fiancé forgave her. He was still excited to share their marriage, but he is so glad that he doesn’t feel the shame she feels. An ashamed woman and her righteous man, I bet you’ve heard that before.
Masturbation is a sin, birth control causes cancer and you can get pregnant if you’re fooling around in your underwear. I was educated enough to know how false the birth control claim was but the same can’t be said for the pregnancy claim.
I was 13 when I heard that and about two years later, those were the thoughts on my mind as the cute boy in his underwear laid beside me. My first and only condom demonstration would come years later, courtesy of my neighbour in my first year of university.
Now, back to my discussion of pain.
I am so sorry that you received such poor health education. We deserve so much better. I am healing but it will take time. The years of fear mongering from my schooling left me with a sexual dysfunction disorder that currently prevents me from penetrative sex.
A male-identifying friend I made at McMaster once told me that sex was such a vital part of a relationship and that he likely wouldn’t stay in a relationship if, after three weeks, they weren’t having sex. I have hidden from romance and relationships for so long because these experiences, from elementary school to now, have made me feel as though I don’t deserve romantic love.
I’m lucky to have so much love in my life, from family and friends and from myself, but my inability to relate to the media I consume and the “normal experiences” of young women is unsurprisingly difficult.
I have always been grateful for teachers, I still am, but they need the necessary tools to allow us to succeed. We need an updated curriciulum. I needed it 15 years ago and we all need it today.
Nicole Jedrzejko / The Silhouette
Do you use the word ‘queer?’ Communities at Mac and throughout the world have begun challenging the word and its uses, saying it proudly embraces any orientation from lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans*, questioning and intersex people into its umbrella. ‘Queer’ is becoming a re-empowerment through unity under one term that knocks down its derogatory history and acknowledges all. This is still an ongoing process, with academia and the younger generation spearheading the change but its derogatory influence still remembered by older generations. The power of this word, of uniting under this term, is strong and clear. So why aren’t queer sexual health education messages the same?
There have been whispers of change in our current sexual health education curriculum in elementary and high schools for years now. That curriculum has not been updated since 1997, years before social media, sexting, the Internet and more modernizations have altered the definition of sexual activity for many young people. A sex ed curriculum change has recently been brought to the table by Ontario’s Premier Kathleen Wynne, the first female Premier of Ontario and first openly gay Premier of Canada. Changes including teaching the anatomical names of body parts in Grade 1, discussing sexual orientation, identity and invisible differences in Grade 3 and non-vaginal (i.e., oral, anal) sex in Grade 6-7 have been proposed. The most noticeable changes are for Grade 3 students, where respect for people’s differences is the focus of sexual orientation lessons. Some call the change political suicide. Some call it necessary.
Regardless of the controversy over this curriculum change, sex ed includes the same principles, no matter what orientation category you find yourself in. And yet sex ed campaigns seems to separate the hetero and queer communities. Mac’s Student Wellness Centre has made great efforts to include the queer community in all sex ed resources, but the fact still remains that many healthcare professionals often make quick judgments and mistakes based on perceived expectations of the queer community’s sexual habits. Assumptions are often made that the queer community is “sexually charged” because of more overt sexual discussion. But many queer people do not fit into that category, and all still deserve a safe, non-judgmental environment to get sex ed.
For our generation, queer sex ed did not happen in schools. It is hard to get information on queer health, and even those brave enough to seek information do so online or by quickly sticking their hand in SHEC’s condom basket. Open and honest discussions with your healthcare provider are a great place to begin. Here are some starting points:
With the queer rights movement strongly moving towards change, it is important to remember that regardless of your involvement in the queer community, we all must be allies if change is to occur. So much of our Mac community strength comes down to mutual respect for one another. Accept past and present mistakes you are making regarding assumptions of the queer community, acknowledge and reflect on your emotions and listen to other people’s perspectives. Being an ally does not simply mean saying you’re pro-queer rights; conscious efforts to create a positive space every day must be made. The queer people you know are not meant to be your resources, nor is it their responsibility to market information to heterosexuals. There is information out there, from our own QSCC on 2nd-floor MUSC to the LGBTQ Community Wellness Centre (“The Well”) in downtown Hamilton and Rainbow Health Ontario. Take the time to educate yourself about the queer community, self-direct your learning and if all else fails, remember to give everyone a chance to have the life they want.
Nicole Jedrzejko / The Silhouette
Pregnant (adjective): [1] (of a woman or female animal) having a child or young developing in the uterus, [2] full of meaning; significant or suggestive. Origin: late Middle English from Latin praegnant-, from prae ‘before’ + the base of gnasci ‘be born.’
For so many of our peers, this word carries the most uncertainty and fear, and definitely lives up to its definition: full of meaning. As young adults, we are being faced with the frustrating reality that the prime childbearing years are also prime working years, in which most of us are focused on school and career prospects in the preparation for our future selves. More than a third of university-educated women today are having their first child when older than 30 years, another issue entirely when our fecundability (the probability of achieving pregnancy in one menstrual cycle) begins declining in the mid-20s, drops significantly in the early 30s, and plummets by approximately 37. Even with future fertility in question, it is still unthinkable by many in our university culture to consider pregnancy before graduation, as the decision to reproduce is seen as a huge burden on one’s ability to survive and prosper. Financial struggles, impact on education and career, cultural and religious restrictions, inconveniences to current lifestyles, terror of such huge responsibilities, and many other personal reasons have changed pregnancy from a simple change in the body’s reproductive state to the severity level of disease.
But contrary to popular opinion, pregnancy pre-graduation is manageable. There are an overwhelming amount of educational resources on pregnancy, but the most important first steps can be summarized into these six points:
Campus services from the Student Wellness Centre, SHEC, and faculty academic counselors can provide additional resources to help manage pregnancy concerns, but there is a significant lack of support from one of the most powerful forces on this campus: our peers. Dealing with pregnancy, unwanted or not, carries enough pressure to deal with from partners and parents to involve additional prejudices from peers. So often people dealing with such tough experiences do not need our sympathy or pity, but a realization that they are not alone. Mothers come in all shapes, sizes, and ages, as do families. Whichever option you choose to manage your pregnancy is the right one for you. No one has the right to say otherwise, and everyone has the responsibility of respecting your options. It is also up to us all to make our campus a place where a woman’s decision over her reproductive state is respected.
