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According to an article published in the London Times today, we Brits are now the most promiscuous nation in the world (of the western industrial nations, that is). In terms of one-night stands, total number of partners, and our "relaxed" attitude to casual sex, we beat Australia, the United States, Italy, and France. France! Where having extra-marital affairs is a favorite national pastime! If nothing else, at least now we might lose our reputation for being frigid and repressed.
In all seriousness though, Britain has the highest teen pregnancy rate in Europe as well as the highest teen STD infection rate in Europe (although both are significantly lower than here in the United States, where abstinence-only sex education doesn't seem to be helping much). Premature sex education in British schools (it can be taught to children as young as 4) has long been blamed for the epidemic, along with the inappropriate sexualization of children by toy manufacturers and the media. But here's a thought. In Britain, we also drink more than any other country in Europe (apart from Ireland and Finland, bizarrely), and our alcohol-related death rate has doubled since 1991. We've also, according to this reasonably insulting story in the New York Times, been causing havoc on summer vacations with our abhorrent, booze-soaked behavior. Could there be a correlation somewhere between the beer goggles and the newfound sluttiness?
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Hanna and Melinda, did you read the Times article yesterday about the evangelical approach to marital sex? In mid-November, the Rev. Ed Young, pastor of the Fellowship Church in Grapevine, Texas, was up in the pulpit, urging his flock to fortify their unions with Seven Days of Sex. "A sexperiment," he called it as he sermonized in front of a big bed to an audience presumed to be not getting nearly enough of it. In my uptight, blue state way, I found myself wondering about the kids ("a word that Mr. Young told church members stands for ‘keeping intimacy at a distance successfully' ")—particularly teenagers.
Talk about a sex-ed message that seems tone deaf to adolescents, no matter how you slice it. For any teens who might have been in the congregation listening to the exhortations to parental "whoopee," can you think of any greater gross out? And if they could bring themselves to think about it, the reverend's diagnosis of sex-starved couples undermined the promises preached to youth: These teens are being told to save themselves, the better to enjoy the bliss that arrives with marriage. I wish I thought the spectacle of their elders' confusion could help kids see what a complicated business sex can be, but somehow I don't think that's what sinks in.
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Oy. All due respect, et cetera. True love does not wait. True love necks, cops a feel. True love tries to put off the inevitable and distracts itself giving a blow job. True love gags a little bit, momentarily forgets it is true love, re-evaluates itself—if this does not feel particularly loving, does my selfless dedication to this higher purpose at least underscore its truth?—oh crap here come the Park Police …
Now, I speak as an avowed nonbeliever in the sacredness of sex. I have committed the act hundreds of times, not always under the influence of alcohol, and never once felt the presence of the Holy Spirit.* And I am one of those heathens who has run the numbers on America's Gross National Sin way too many times to be particularly inclined to get up in the morning if not for some deeply-ingrained irrational hope that some savior, perhaps under the guise of a cleverly formulated stimulus package designed amid a powerful resurgence of cultural humanism, might descend and forgive the bulk of them. I feel the Holy Spirit all the time, at the deli and the movies and sometimes even looking at pictures of children that light up when they call their parents' iPhones.
You never hit "ignore" on your kid. That feels like a sin. And adultery—not redefined Clintonesquely to include premarital sex, but full-on cheating— feels like a sin. Merely flirting with cheating generally feels bad enough to deter wusses like me, and maybe that is why I haven't married, but anyway, the point of this is that the older I get the more confounded I am that so many Americans strive so hard to ask our kids—who are, to be sure, the byproducts of our screwing but we hopefully weren't thinking of them at the time—to take sex seriously as a sin.
I grew up the eldest child in a very conservative Catholic family (whose conservatism has basically been all but decimated by time and events and exposure to the Simpsons, thank Jesus or this week would be painful). Growing up, I thought premarital sex was sinful. But I had spent a few formative years during the first Bush administration in China, a society that had declared an entirely different battery of activities to be sinful: reading, expressing opinions, owning stuff—especially if it in any way acknowledged the past—failing to renounce one's parents if they happened to be bourgeois counterrevolutionary running dogs, etc. etc. Even at 12, it occurred to me that (protected) sex, if one could find a place to have some, might be the one uncorrupted joy experienced in the lifetimes of most of the dreary-faced adults I saw (bicycling, very mirthlessly, to work each day) on the street. I remember feeling so awful for them. I remember feeling terribly sinful that I could not, or didn't want to, give anyone "half" of what I had, as Jesus would have, not that there was any real practical way of doing that, which, by the way, is a big reason communism didn't work out.
But anyway, the point is that I never felt remotely that sinful about sex. I think most of the guilt that we feel about sex has to do with confusion we've created by dubbing it a "sin." Of the various reasons I've felt guilty about honest, unadulterated sex—does he think I am his girlfriend now? why did I watch that porn?—it always seems to go back to fundamental dishonesty. Elevating sex to sin, that is to say, was the original sin.
*Ha ha, boner joke optional here.
(And P.S., any future kids of mine who might ever stumble across this blog post or anything else I've ever written on the subject, there are a LOT of conditions, footnotes, and appendices to all this and by the way, I was nearly 19 when I lost my virginity, and as far as I'm concerned, you can wait that long, too.)
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Not sure this is a liberal-vs.-conservative divide exactly, Hanna, or even a religious-vs.-secular one, though that's probably closer to the mark. It's definitely not only in red states that parents would prefer that their kids delay having sex. How to communicate that while also teaching them about birth control—does the one message undercut the other?—is an old, old problem. And because people being people it's not always communicated perfectly or received gladly doesn't mean there's no point in trying.
At a meeting on sex ed in Sunday school at our church last spring, one of the other parents remarked that even those of us who don't believe everything the church teaches about sex want our kids to believe it, and everybody laughed. Only, when it came down to actually talking to my kids, I felt compelled to explain both the church teaching on birth control and why I see it more as an ideal than an absolute. Did I worry about this obviously mixed message? Yes. Do I get the appeal of a more clear-cut approach in either direction? You betcha. But I see risk in punting on either the moral or the practical dimension of sexuality, and in the end, that's a line every parent has to locate for himself. One of my many hopes for Obamamerica is that we will no longer see "red state sex'' as a distinct phenomenon.
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True Love Waits (and waits and waits) was also the theme of my favorite show as a kid: Dark Shadows, starring the tortured, sorta good-guy vampire Barnabas Collins, who loved eyeliner, juggled relationships, and mostly kept his baser instincts in check. His girlfriends included trashy fellow bloodsucker Angelique—see what giving in got her?—and Josette, the love of his 18th-century life, who had only one dress and it was white; get it? Though long dead, Josette did sometimes walk out of her portrait to hang out with Barnabas. He was also much taken with, but never put the bite on, her modern-day doppelganger, Victoria WInters, the governess at Collinwood—played by Alexandra Isles, for whom I named my dolly in the first grade. (Sadly, Alexandra's later career included a real-life stint as Klaus von Bulow's mistress; Victoria would have known better.) Did the True Love Waits abstinence movement really fail, though, Hanna? Or is it more like AA, which doesn't work all that reliably but is still the best option we've got? Not saying sexuality is a medical condition, but if these programs help kids wait even a while, until they're maybe not ready but readier, isn't that a good thing?
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Discussions of the recent update of Joan Baez’s anti-draft poster have so far barely mentioned is that while Baez may have been coy when she suggested that she’d only sleep with anti-draft men, she wasn’t being original. The same goes for her imitators.
Women have used abstinence as political leverage throughout feminist history. The tactic dates back as far as ancient Greece, where Aristophanes’ “Lysistrata” convinced Athenian senate wives to withhold sex until the end of the Peloponnesian War. Temperance Crusaders of the late 1800s were among the first American women to employ abstinence activism; compare the Baez poster and its remake to this turn of the century photograph of ladies in support of the slogan “Lips that touch liquor shall not touch ours.”
So the pro-Obama postergirls aren’t hawking their politics with some “tasteless” message. Their efforts aren't "cute" or childish when you consider that they’re contributing to an ongoing tradition that’s been around for generations and required much more layered creativity and historical consciousness than say, the Obama Girl.
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That's what she seems to be saying in this interview with People magazine. When asked whether her 17-year-old daughter's pregnancy has changed how she talks about sex with her other kids, she says: "I've always been a proponent of making sure kids understand—even in schools—they'd better take preventative measures so that they don't find themselves in these less than ideal circumstances. Perhaps Bristol could be a good example to other young women that life happens and preventative measures are, first and foremost, the option that should be considered.'' Which does not sound like abstinence only—and does sound completely sensible. I was also kind of surprised by the New Age Sarah who comes through in the interview when she describes Bristol as "kind of an old soul.'' So many layers, and only 12 days. ...
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Nayeli,
I respect that you're standing by your opinion that Miley Cyrus would be a good condom spokesgirl, but I think there are even more reasons it's a terrible idea.
Your concerns—that teens are having sex and need contraception—are well-founded and admirable. But teen sex is not a new thing. We Gen-Xers didn't wait until college or marriage, and neither did our baby boomer parents. (Believe me; I'm living proof of what happens when teenagers don't use birth control.) I'm pretty sure it goes back to at least Romeo and Juliet. There's never been a perfect system for teaching horny young things about safe sex, and there probably never will be. We can all work harder to improve access to contraception and education, but fresh ideas should come from health professionals, family counselors, and educators, not the marketing department at a condom company. I also like Meghan's suggestion the Cyrus herself could volunteer or donate to a sex-ed program if she's so inclined.
You ask why, since the mere mention of an endorsement has been win-win for LifeStyles and Cyrus, why not, um, consummate the deal? Because an actual deal would be lose-lose. Miley Cyrus reportedly could be worth $1 billion—yes, with a "b"—by the end of the year. She's not going to risk her squeaky clean reputation for a mere $1 million. And can you imagine the uproar that LifeStyles would face for using a minor to sell their products? James Dobson would be getting more airtime than Hannah Montana herself.
And finally, the ick factor can't be ignored. Yes, it's important for teens to use condoms. But the fact is that they're important for adults, too. Any grown man who didn't breathlessly await the day the Olsen twins turned 18 will or should be skeeved out by the idea of buying a box of condoms with jailbait on the side. Condom companies can find a way to promote condom use without using a teenager. In fact—and yes, I realize it makes me sound very old to say this—what's wrong with a little cautionary tale? If we must have a pop tart selling condoms, why not Britney Spears?
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I'm prepared to take the heat for my controversial opinion that the appearance of Miley Cyrus' cherubic face on the side of a package of condoms would be a positive development and significantly raise the profile of contraception among teens. It's easy to see though why some, if not most of participants in this debate don't see her as the right girl for the job. I still do, for exactly the same reasons that the endorsement seems taboo:
She doesn't have to do it. You're right, Rachael. Miley Cyrus has no obligation to get behind the LifeStyles campaign. I just think that her "do as I say, not as I do" demeanor has been frustrating to watch, especially when so many look to her as a role model. And as I said, I'm not advocating that she break her own vow of chastity. But if she, as a teenager, is going to display her sexuality on a public stage she might as well focus on a positive, as opposed to a hypocritical message while she's at it. I don't think Miley is obligated to provide sex ed to a million young girls, I just think it would be progressive, inspiring, and much more honest if she did.
She's a girl. I've got to protest the suggestion that the role of condom spokesperson be outsourced to Miley's male equivalent. Condoms are worn by men, yes, but their benefits are often much more tangible to women. Females are both more susceptible to infection and slower to exhibit the symptoms that allow for the detection and treatment of many STDs. Many of the most serious problems for women are the result of undetected chlamydia and gonorrheal infections. Ectopic pregnancy, infertility, cervical cancer—these problems are admittedly not those of a pre-teen. Rather they're the problems of an ill-educated preteen who had unprotected sex and didn't suffer the consequences until 20 years down the line.
Beyond these health reasons, however, there's a cultural standard that's begging to be overturned by Cyrus' endorsement. Before Trojan's 2007 "Evolve" campaign, most U.S. condom advertisements not only perpetuated a male-centric model for sex, they were also frequently misogynistic and occasionally violent in the messages they portrayed. Isn't it about time that an intelligent young woman replaced the machismo that dominates the market today?
She's (too) young. According to a Durex Global Sex Survey in 2007 the age at which virginity is lost in developed nations varies between 15 and 19. In the United States, it's 16. And this is the age at which people first have sex, not the first time they think about sex or are exposed to it. Of course, every parent has the right to breach the topic of sex and contraception when they feel that the time is right. But in reality, relying solely on parental and/or scholastic guidance hasn't really been working. Miley's peers are already having sex. Girls younger than Miley are already having sex. By the time they're watching Gossip Girl, it's probably too late. In my opinion kids, specifically girls, should know about contraception long before they know everything there is to know about sex, something I think every parent would like to control but ultimately cannot. Kids learn about sex from other kids. And unfortunately, when they get the message about safe sex from their parents (if they get the message about safe sex from their parents, and the most at-risk teens usually don't) it often comes after they've already become curious or nervous about the subject or received conflicting accounts from their equally uninformed friends.
It's a total sellout. It's undeniable that both Miley and LifeStyles have already gained by the mere hint of their association. Considering the minute possibility that Cyrus would ever get behind their product, this may be all that LifeStyles was hoping to accomplish in the first place. I don't think it's necessarily exploitive for LifeStyles to target Cyrus with their offer—they're looking to make a big impact among teens and she's one of the most visible celebrities in any demographic. For all we know, this was an insider deal and the Cyruses wanted the offer to be extended just so they could shoot it and any rumors of her waning abstinence down. So, if the damage has already been sort-of caused and both sides have already come out ahead—what's the big problem with finishing the deal?
Whether you think it's exploitive or a setup or just plain inappropriate the fact of the matter is that updating the way teens and young girls learn about sex is no easy job but someone's got to do it. Miley Cyrus has this chance. And whether it's Miley or some other courageous young celebrity who ultimately takes up the cause of teen sex in earnest, it's not as if everything will suddenly be changed. But this would be a pretty good start.
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Hot on the heels of last week's contraceptive debate comes a fresh piece of news that is bound to stir the pot among condom fans and haters alike: Condom manufacturer LifeStyles is courting Miley Cyrus, Hannah Montana star and one-time Vanity Fair pinup, to be its new spokesgirl. Cyrus seems an unlikely candidate. At 15 she is younger than the age of consent in most states and once infamously (and unoriginally) proclaimed her intention to stay a virgin until marriage. Fearing for the already doomed reputation of the Hannah Montana brand's flagship starlet, the Cyrus camp has already denied that any deal with LifeStyles is in the works, and it's pretty much certain that they wouldn't accept it anyway. Despite LifeStyles' offering of $1 million and a lifetime supply of prophylactics to secure Cyrus as the face of safe sex, we're probably never going to see Billy Ray's baby on the side of a box of condoms.
This, to me, seems like a huge loss. Not only for Cyrus (lifetime supply!) but also for young girls who look to her as a trendsetter for both clothes and behavior. Modes of sexual practice seem to follow a trickle-down pattern, with women passing on their wisdom and advice to those less in-the-know. Miley Cyrus, role model to millions, is therefore in an ideal position to promote a healthier example for young women who are probably already contemplating or having some form of sex. Her celebrity endorsement could be the first since that of Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes to significantly de-stigmatize condoms among teens and reverse some of the bad PR they've been receiving lately.
As we've seen, teen celebrities' vows of virginity are hardly guaranteed to stave off unplanned pregnancies, nor have they proven inspirational among their peers. And it's unsurprising that the threat of pregnancy and STDs doesn't stop teens from having sex altogether when it doesn't even stop grown Jezebels who should know better.
So what are Miley's people afraid of? That she's too young to know about condoms? I see denying contraceptive education to teens as akin to preventing alcoholics from entering rehab just because they're too young to legally drink: blind adherence to an ideology that's being flouted at large. Do they fear for her future earning power? It's unlikely that Cyrus' endorsement of LifeStyles would derail her seemingly unflappable star. Her career would continue, albeit probably not with Disney, which has reacted less than happily to displays of sexuality by its young stars in the past. And what's more, Cyrus would be free to keep her promise of premarital chastity (though that, too, seems doubtful). Cyrus' promotion of safe sex needn't be a promotion of licentiousness. It should simply prompt young women to be more scrupulous and pragmatic about the choices they make, encouraging longer, healthier lives among those who've already made up their minds to have sex.
Read more on Miley Cyrus and condoms from XX Factor contributors Noreen Malone, Torie Bosch, and Rachael Larimore.