It was on one if these nervous trips that our twittering minds were captivated by a little metal case on the bathroom wall, attached with the type of “insert coin and twist” contraption that gumball machines rely on, although despite its sticker advertisement of “Tropical Flavors!”, this box did not contain candy.
It’s funny what an extremely apprehensive mind will latch on to in order to quell its nerves...how mere minutes before show time, we all sought solace in a mutual discovery of an item we’d never really realized existed before.
Flavored condoms simultaneously struck all three of us as absolutely absurd and hilarious. We had vaguely heard of their existence, but they only really became a reality to us when under our noses. You could say the discovery was kind of like meeting Santa Claus in person, if he was less jolly old elf, and more latex banana-flavored sex paraphernalia.
The condom became an instant inside joke, and we ran off to show it to our exasperated guitarist, dare our friends to taste it, and even bring it onstage as a good-luck charm. Alas, the night of the concert ended, and we parted ways, forgetting our previous stage-fright as well as the condom, which had concluded its evening, nestled safely in the back pocket of my jeans.
Fast forward to the next day. I’m off at school, and while at home, my grandmother wanders into my bedroom. She sees my jeans, thrown in a late night haphazard pile on my floor, and, tut-tutting my sloppiness, picks them up, tilting them at an angle just sharp enough for a little yellow packet to tumble out of their back pocket.
“What’s this?” Grandma thinks, making out the word “banana” on the wrapper, despite being sans-glasses. Then, in a terrible misunderstanding (which I will spend the rest of my life hearing about), my dear, sweet grandma thought to herself “Oh, I’ve never tried banana flavored gum before!”
Although I was greeted with a stony-faced “You’ve done it now, young lady” glare when I returned from school that day, I managed to placate my grandmother with the assurance that condom was a joke.
However, theoretically, what if it had been something I genuinely wanted to have readily available? Would I have been shipped off to a Catholic reformatory?
I have difficulty comprehending why many parents who find their children’s contraceptives are horrified that their little angels aren’t abstinent, instead of being comforted that they are protecting themselves responsibly.
Reviewing the evolution of the discussions of sexual issues in families, we can see that my grandmother’s generation more or less kept quiet. This was perceived as logical, on account of the whole “sex is taboo” debacle, which deeply permeated society at the time. But between our generations, there was the age of free love, the AIDS epidemic, and an increase in, not only the awareness of the existence of teen sex, but of the need to discuss it openly.
I admittedly spent the duration of my first article for Orato.com [1] squirming about how awkward it can be to have a parent-child sex discussion, so proclaiming now that I’m annoyed by parental (and grandparental) obliviousness towards teenage behaviour may seem a tad hypocritical.
However, from the perspective of the teen in the aforementioned discussion scenario, there are several ways that we do feel comfortable establishing an understanding of our personal lives with our parents. We may not initially be a receptive audience, but if we are mature enough to be having sex, we’re pretty well mature enough to pipe down and hear about it. Personally, I’d rather be a little awkward than incurably ill.
Questioning any teenager will immediately reveal that a universally shared annoyance is being treated like lesser beings by our elders. This is inherently what makes the stereotypical “birds and bees” talk so obnoxious; we find it patronizing. This is, after all, the Internet generation. We were jadedly clicking the X-button on porn-star pop ups back when our parents were still buying us footie pyjamas.
We definitely don’t need the dirty details recounted to us by our mom and dad. However, parents invariably tend to feel more comfortable knowing their children are safe and have an understanding of the gravity and maturity levels commensurate with being sexually active. The most efficient way of doing this is to attempt to foster an open and casual environment regarding conversation about sex and trust from an early age.
For example, instead of treating me like my banana condom was actually the corpse of a man I’d murdered and stuffed in my back-pocket, my grandmother could have used her discovery as a platform on which to emphasize the importance of love, safety, mature choices, commend me on my physically safe choice, but also advise me to protect myself emotionally against the angst and confusion sex-too-soon may bring.
Additionally, aside from emotional involvement, there is the harrowing statistic that despite the frantic urgency with which society is providing teens with condoms of various flavors; one out of four American girls is currently suffering from Human Papilloma Virus (HPV)...A shocking statistic while solitary, but the most confusing aspect of it is that HPV is that it is the only sexually transmitted infection for which we have a preventative vaccine.
The Gardacil shot was released within the last year, making it a modern step towards universal sexual health. The shot is practical, easy, and is quickly becoming a mandatory preventative measure given to girls in junior high school.
Its sheer ubiquity gives it a somewhat casual atmosphere, a necessary and unawkward way for parents, teens, and their family doctors to discuss why the shot is needed and how serious protection is. Unless, of course, you have my family doctor, and she asks you whether you’ve “ever kissed a boy?” - in which case, consider uncomfortable conversation as character-building, roll your eyes, and wonder exactly how relevant that is.
*****
Check out all the Orato.com special series:
Hell’s Kitchen Chopping Block [2]
Song Over For American Idols [3]
People In Peril [5]
