Sex, for many, is an integral part of young adulthood. If you aren’t having sex, you’re certainly hearing about it, maybe talking about it and perhaps wondering what role it might play in your life.
Some studies estimate that by 18, 58% of Americans have already had sex. By 20, the figure jumps to 75%. Sex is surely commonplace, but in college, students might overestimate how much sex their peers are having. The sexual landscape in college is vast and diverse. Students should be able to participate in fun, safe and consensual sex, but to do so requires being equipped with necessary tools and knowledge.
Sex education curricula and its goals vary between school districts and states in secondary education. As of 2023, only 38 states and the District of Columbia mandate sex education and/or HIV education. Of these, only 18 states require sex education content to be medically accurate; 20 states and D.C. require content to provide information on contraception. Whereas 29 states require content to stress abstinence, only four states prohibit sex education programs from promoting religion. As of 2019, only nine states and D.C. required that sex education included some discussion of consent.
College may be the last formal educational institution an adult participates in. As such, higher education offers a unique opportunity to educate students, both inside and outside the classroom, on adult behavior. So why is it that colleges incorrectly assume that students — who might not know how to do their own laundry — have complete knowledge about sex?
Current programming at Tulane University acts as a reminder or an avenue for further learning. Initiatives like Tulane’s Sex Week and organizations including Tulane University Peer Health Educators offer resources for students to learn about and discuss sex periodically. Though these are crucial to remind students of available resources to discuss and encourage safe sex, peer education alone isn’t sufficient to make up for large disparities in sexual knowledge. The absence of consistent, holistic formal education leaves a gap for students to learn about sex from far less reputable sources.
A nationally representative survey found that 24.5% of 18 to 24 year olds endorsed porn as their most helpful source of learning about sex, making it the most popular source among this age group. While porn may pose some benefits, it rarely shows safe, normal sex, opting for fantastical representations. Indeed, internet porn became hugely popular in the late 1990s. Gen Z — those born between 1997 and 2012 — are pioneers in their ability to access and consume porn, which can normalize emotionally detached sex between consenting adults, unprotected sex and even sexual coercion, violence and harm.
We learn to drive not from stunt drivers, but from classroom education and consistent practice. So why is it acceptable — normal, even — for young adults to learn how to have sex from performers in porn?
A “sexual project,” according to Columbia University professors Jennifer S. Hirsch and Shamus Khan in their book “Sexual Citizens,” “encompasses the reasons why anyone might seek a particular sexual interaction or experience.” Individuals might see sex as a way to further intimacy, or a way to gain pleasure. People might also seek to avoid having sex, or use sex as a form of self-discovery to further their understanding of their own sexuality.
Sex takes on a different and personal meaning for everyone who has it, and comprehensive sex education should discuss — and validate — the reasons why we have sex and how we can ensure that the sex we have is not only fulfilling, but also respectful of our partners.
When we are fully educated about sex, we can begin to determine our sexual projects. If we can better understand our personal goals when we have sex and openly discuss those with partners, we are more able to express consent for sexual experiences we actually desire.
Consent, or the agreement between participants to engage in sexual activity, is fundamental to all sexual interaction. But consent education is often overlooked in traditional sex education. If it is discussed, it is often taught as something that is explicitly, verbally and enthusiastically given. However, this strict definition of consent denies that consent is often implicitly communicated through body language or other physical and verbal cues. Holistic sex education should make room for individuals to learn what consent actually resembles and how we can clarify consent in murky situations.
At Cambridge University, consent courses are mandatory for all freshmen and carry the same weight as fire safety or health education orientation courses. The course aims to create a space for open discussion around consent and debunking the myths surrounding it. Discussions like these might be crucial for new students to think critically about what consensual sex is and looks like. If we know the expectations sex should meet, it’s easier to see when they are not met and why.
Consent isn’t the only part of the sexual experience that is absent from sex education; students have no idea how to talk about sex with their partners. Most students seek a pleasure-filled experience, but very few know how to express what they enjoy. When we do talk about sex with partners, we might be speaking effectively different languages; we might not even be speaking at all. Of course, we learn through experience, but being able to talk comfortably about sexuality can help us process the experiences we’ve had, as well as develop new goals.
The human body is confusing and shame, discomfort, communication barriers and cultural differences make conversations surrounding sex difficult. However, these conversations are an integral part of positive sexual interactions. Having open conversations with your partner fosters confidence, trust and an overall more pleasurable experience, and students should receive support and training in how to have these conversations.
At the University of California, Berkeley, students were offered to register for “Sexual Pleasure 101,” a discussion-based course designed to foster open conversations on how to derive the most pleasure out of your sexual experiences. Courses like these might help remove stigma, not only from talking about sex, but also from talking about sex positively, allowing students to develop a sort of sexual autonomy.
College gives students access to a sea of academic information and promotes critical thinking — but it shouldn’t stop there. If colleges suppose they prepare young adults for the world beyond, they must acknowledge that sex and sexuality are a part of an adult landscape. Within that landscape, sex that is healthy, safe, consensual, respectful and fun should be the norm.
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