đŸ€–

Sex Education Methodologies and the Evolution to Sexual Technologies: A Feminist and Queer Epistemology and Praxis of Holding Accountable Mediums for Sex Ed.

Freedman, Ethan

Praxis Project Director: Loe, Meika

Advisor: Dominique C. Hill

Colgate University in Hamilton, New York

Submitted in partial fulfillment as a Praxis Project within the requirements for concentration in Colgate University Women’s Gender, and Sexuality Studies Program

Colgate University: Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, Spring 2024

Acknowledgements: In introducing the following work, I would like to begin by thanking those who have helped me get to the point in my research where I could produce something academically extensive and personal to me. I would also like to acknowledge that the resources I benefit from come from Colgate University, whose land is situated on Oneida Nation land that has never been ceded.

Thanks to my peers in WMST 490 - Women’s Studies Senior Seminar - who have sat through countless conversations with me on topics of sex, sexuality, intimacy, and sex education. It has been an honor to share space with these people and an absolute privilege to funnel some of their ideas into this piece. I would also like to thank Prof. Meika Loe for her facilitation of the course and constant efforts at helping me construct a tangible praxis project. The space provided by the Women’s center for class and research was truly a wonderful place for fostering this work.

I would also like to thank Prof. Taryn Jordan, Prof. Dominique C. Hill, Prof. Lindsay Toman, and Prof. Adam Thomas for their contributions to my passion for the work that I am doing. I am beyond excited to implement the tools I have learned in spaces facilitated by these individuals and appreciate their presence in my life. With these acknowledgements, I present to you a work of my own volition.

Table of Contents - Pages

  • Title and Acknowledgements
    • Page 0
  • Table of Contents
    • Page 1
  • Abstract
    • Page 2
  • Introduction:
    • Page 3
  • Methodology: Sex Education Praxis: Enacting Sex Educational Values Rooted in Black Feminist and Queer Theories
    • Page 4
  • Literature Review: Unpacking Curricula and Mediums for Sex Education
    • Abstinence Only Sex Education:
      • Page 4
    • Comprehensive Sex Education
      • Page 5
    • Expanding our Understandings of Sex Educators: Media and Sextech
      • Page 6
    • Ethical, Feminist, and Queered Lenses of Sex Education
      • Page 8
  • Reflecting on Embodied experiences in Sex Education Guided by Feminist and Queer Theorists
    • Storytelling
      • Page 8
    • Compulsory Sexuality
      • Page 9
    • Barriers to Sexuality and Pleasure
      • Page 10
    • Advocating for the Self: A Bad Feminist Sex Education Rooted in Love and Taught by Yours Truly
      • Page 10
  • Conclusion Praxis is Forever Bound to the Theory that Informs it
    • Page 11

About Praxis Project

This comprehensive examination of sex education methodologies delves into the evolution and challenges associated with various educational paradigms, from traditional abstinence-only approaches to comprehensive sex education (CSE), with an emphasis on inclusivity and the representation of marginalized identities. By integrating a thorough literature review with personal reflections and feminist and queer theoretical frameworks, this analysis highlights the persistent gaps and the potential for new technologies to reshape sex education. The exploration considers the role of media, including ethical pornography, and sextech in educating on sexual health, pleasure, intimacy, and gender dynamics, positioning these tools as potential facilitators of more inclusive and realistic sexual education. The discussion extends to the impact of societal and technological changes on sex education practices and advocates for the integration of feminist and queer perspectives to address the needs of all individuals, particularly those from marginalized communities. This work underscores the necessity of ongoing critical examination and adaptation in sex education to ensure it remains relevant, effective, and sensitive to the diverse experiences of sexuality and intimacy in contemporary society.

Key Words: Sex Education, Comprehensive Sex Education (CSE), Adult Film, Sextech, Feminist Theory, Queer Theory, gender, sex, sexuality, intimacy

Introduction

Whether abstinence only, comprehensive, feminist, queer, heteronormative, allonormative, compulsive, or anything between and far from these sex educational curricula frameworks, the common theme for all of them is they seem to leave something out. As a sex educator producing from the position of the youngest working generation at the moment, situating conversations about intimacy, pleasure, and sex education means finding roots in the past.

Abstinence only methodologies were born out of the desire to mitigate all negative effects of sex including unwanted pregnancies and sexually transmitted infections, but did not address the fact that communities, parents, adolescents, and schools have been demanding more from curricula for years due to the fact that teachers are unprepared, ignorant, uncomfortable, or agitated by the subject matter (Malfetti & Rubin, 1968). In response, A comprehensive sex education (CSE) is an agenda that is inclusive of all identities in order to provide an age appropriate, sufficient, equitable education on biology, gender, sexuality, pleasure, contraceptives, and social pressures. While the concept of CSE might be the most informed curriculum, the extent that one receives a fully fruited curriculum is unlikely due to many persistent problems related to praxis (Pardini, 1998).

If we acknowledge that sex education falls short upon implementation, yet people still yearn for it – adult content as sex educators is a conceivable notion. When one is lacking educators from which to learn, it only makes sense that easily accessible pornography has been a resource debated as a malpractice form of sex education. To many, the correlation between porn consumption technology and sex education is obvious as Alice Echols (1983) positions adult film as dangerous for society because of the notion that it causally determines mistreatment of bodies.

While pornography as a tool for perpetuating circuitries of harm such as the patriarchy and sexual power dynamics is spoken on by Vicki Kirby (2006), rise of ethical feminist porn has garnered less attention than critiques of male narrative mainstream hardcore content. With a situated understanding that pornography has committed and continues to commit violence, Jack Halberstam’s “The Queer Art of Failure” positions pornography within a less elevated domain when under the framework of ethical feminist porn as it leaves room for accountability and the fantasy that adult content can provide. While there are many people who further position the negatives of mainstream pornography, the rise of ethical feminist pornography gives adult content a revamped mission related to breaking away from the domination of the heteropatriarchy and how media caters pleasure towards the compulsion of heteronormative gazes (Orenstein, 2016). Ethical feminist porn intervenes with the male gaze by producing content that hypothetically allows for people of all identities and sexualities to gaze, be sexual, and feel desired by offering a window into realistic scenes and fantasy with authentic portrayals of sexuality, gender, intimacy, and bodies (Smith, 2015).

Moreover, with understanding how pornography is capable of enacting power on bodies and minds, we see an overarching theme of capital that brings to the forefront companies providing sexual technologies (Berg, 2021). Sexual technologies are products with the intent of assisting in aspects of sexuality that simultaneously act as sex educators and sexual mediators. While sexual tech is capable of helping in positive ways, the capacity for sextech to undo itself is similar to other industries like adult film next to notions of compulsory heterosexuality and allonormativity.

The following piece emphasizes how sex education is at a point of tension as learning about sex, sexuality, intimacy, pleasure, and more is often not representative of marginalized identities and perpetuates heteronormative and patriarchal ideals. Having developed an impassioned foundation in researching sex education, uncovering where the sex education industry must go is a necessity because continuing to leave people without the tools to harness sexual, intimate, and relational agency is beyond harmful. In tandem with feminist and queer theorists, I delve into sex education methodologies and the extent they encompass feminist and queer forms of praxis that is instrumental to positive mediums for sex education. Where abstinence only education falls short, other mediums and methodologies come to fruition within a framework of comprehensive sex education. The general shortcomings of a comprehensive sex education curriculum emphasize and highlight some of my research, experiences, and future directions for teaching in the field.

Methodology: Sex Education Praxis - Enacting Sex Educational Values Rooted in Black Feminist and Queer Theories

Sex education facets have long been sites of conflict for society, but whether it is facilitated in the classroom, by parents, or through private companies with unique motives – there are many modes of facilitation that encompass an industry capable of establishing positive or maladaptive notions via sex and sexuality curricula.

Through a mixed methods practice, I build a narrative within my research. Beginning with a literature review on the evolution of sex education from abstinence in the classroom to pervasive in technologies posits the analysis of discourse on whether certain platforms and projects are positive sources of sex education. The extent that sextech is capable of being comprehensive necessitates investigating everything from adult media, robotics, and sex toys, to advocacy groups, mutual aid efforts, and grassroots projects.

An additional method of reflection via feminist and queer epistemological approaches is adopted in tandem with analyzing my own embodied experiences as a sex educator. With feminist and queer theorists as a foundation for my praxis - 1.) Toni Cade Bambara, 2.) Sheronda J. Brown, 3.) Adrienne Maree Brown, 4.) Audre Lorde, 5.) Roxanne Gay, and 6.) bell hooks - I unpack my experiences as a sex educator striving for feminist and queer practices of sex ed in an expansive industry. These experiences and theoretical frameworks inform the discourse produced in my archive and sex education project titled Acquaint Education (acquaintedu.com).

In summary, literature, media, and personal embodied experiences as a sex educator at the level of the classroom, adult content production, and project manager of sextech are placed in conversation with literature and sextech platforms to inform whether sex educational efforts are being upheld. From this, a discussion of the expansive domain for sex education develops next to my personal foundations in feminist and queer epistemologies for transforming our world and holding accountable maladaptive forms of sex education.

Literature Review: Unpacking Curricula and Mediums for Sex Education

Abstinence Only Sex Education:

Sex Education was born out of prevention discourse in the wake of a crisis that disregarded the mechanics of sex, and lacked consistency between state school districts leaving individuals to their own sex Ed. devices (Rosoff, 1989). In tandem with Rosoff (1989), Connell (2009) provides an overview of formalized sex education in the United States alongside an explanation of contemporary issues surrounding the field.

Up to the 1980s sex education was sporadic, not formalized, a reactionary necessity, and deemed  unnecessary to educate children aside from prevention topics. Similar to Rosoff’s (1989) understanding that sex education began as a responsive, Connell (2009) reminds that the HIV/AIDS epidemic brought about the formation of the Adolescent and Family Life Act (AFLA), which was known to fund abstinence centric formal education in United States public schools. An abstinence-only sex education posits an agent to refrain from any kind of sexual act with another person that includes vaginal, oral, and anal sex; however, it is up to people individually to come to terms with the definition of abstinence as some only see penetrative heteronormative intimacy as relational to abstinence – and not other sexual activities.

While Connell (2009) depicts the burden of contraception being placed solely on women when attached to abstinence-only methodologies pushing patriarchal values, Stanger-Hall and Hall (2011) reminds that these models attempt to delay sexual activity until marriage and are federally funded depending on if their mission excludes contraceptives and safe sex practices. In the mind of the abstinence enforcer, teaching about sex and sexuality comprehensively might influence teen pregnancy rates alongside sexually transmitted diseases and infections (Stanger-Hall and Hall, 2011). In reality, one must understand that the best way to mitigate pregnancies, STDs, and STIs is to abstain from sexual activity, but abstinence only education being designed by the state (Rosoff, 1989) and with the intent of preventing in response to sexual crises falls short. Utilizing emotion to promote celibacy behaviors, romantic notions of marriage, moralizing, fear, and misinformation fuels ignorance regarding sex, pregnancy, and STD protection – leading to “long-lasting” effects of miseducation and “uneducated adults” (Stanger-Hall and Hall, 2011).

Comprehensive Sex Education

Comprehensive sexuality curricula is a direct response to the lack of education instilled by abstinence centric models and include medically accurate, age appropriate, and evidence based approaches to delaying sexual intercourse, as well as provides information about reproductive development, contraceptives, pleasure, gender, and sexuality from an inclusive and unbiased perspective that centers LGBTQIA+ and marginalized identities. Comprehensive sex education in school systems must be taught by somebody and actively picking who is on the frontlines has the capacity to foster unclear and inconsistent curriculums that are insufficient in teaching children relevant material (Carrion and Jensen, 2014). Through misallocating power that in turn gives rise to a faulty system of education with zero room for LGBTQIA+ and marginalized identities, Carrion and Jenson (2014) posit lack of care and attention allotted to sex education in the United States at the level of the individual teaching the course leading to inconsistent and biased curriculums. When we acknowledge all of the negative surrounding primary methodologies, Hoffnung (2017) adds how a consistent comprehensive sex education must be enlisted and taught to all students regardless of their gender identity. This is because comprehensive sex education is necessary for challenging double standards (Hoffnung, 2017).

Baams et al. (2017) examines comprehensive sex education that centers helping LGBTQIA+ agents by assessing name calling at schools. The school system is a place where power is inflicted, delivered, and passively placed on students, especially the non-binary community, but focusing on sexual diversity decreases maladaptive experiences of bullying and name calling (Baams et al., 2017). In comparison to abstinence-only, comprehensive models center power, gender, inequality, and discrimination within contextual understandings for LGBTQIA+ community (especially asexual and aromantic people) as well as heteronormative identities.

Moreover, centering marginalized perspectives in calls for CSE models of education should consider African immigrant populations, specifically mothers and their daughters, who are inhibited in providing CSE to their children (Agbemenu et al., 2016). Due to astronomical birth rates and sexually transmitted diseases and infections among Black women in America, Black parents preferred comprehensive curriculums because of fears of unplanned pregnancies, weight of cultural taboos, embarrassment, lack of information, and uncertainty that all played a role in barriers to communicating with their daughters personally about sex Ed. topics (Agbemenu et al., 2016).While both Constantine et al. (2007) and Agbemenu et al. (2016) reveal differences in ideology might be less important in debates about sex education than being realistic and sensible, Dobson and Ringrose (2016) contextualize this next to “Sext Education.”

“Sext Education” explores new pedagogies surrounding sexual education and how adolescents in the 21st century are entering a world where new education methodologies need to be developed (Dobson and Ringrose, 2016). With the power to create connection between two people, sexting is defined in parallel to the criminalization of sexting for minors in global north countries (Dobson and Ringrose, 2016). While Dobson and Ringrose (2016) hypothesize that sext education campaigns are failing to educate resulting in damaging consequences for young people as they promote victimization, sexual harassment, and violence; they affirm a notion of gendered responsibility values regarding school’s prioritization of an environment conducive to everyone and capable of generating agents of their own sexuality and pleasure (Dobson and Ringrose, 2016).

Sexuality curriculums perpetually uphold systems of power in the wake of new tools for intimacy and connection, like sexting, highlighting that there is an entirely new realm through which we engage in sex, sexuality, and intimacy. Although abstinence-only models of education fell short and CSE curriculums attempted to fill the gaps–comprehensive sex education as they exist at institutional levels continues to have a large capacity for failure next to technological and human evolutions.

Expanding our Understandings of Sex Educators: Media and Sextech:

No matter what methodology, teachers continue to bring invariability to the classroom (Carrion and Jensen, 2014), binary understandings of sex, sexuality, and intimacy lay concrete foundations for education (Baams et al. 2017; Connell, 2009; Goldstein, 2017), and our world continues to progress with new technologies for facilitating intimacies that generate anxieties and excitements for the sex education industry (Dobson and Ringrose, 2016). Expanding our understanding of who can play the role of a sex educator is an absolute necessity at the intersection of abstinence-only and CSE models failing to keep up with technological advancements. While Janning et al. (2018) highlight how modes of communication for facilitating close relationships have existed for a while with paper and technology making meaningful connections come to fruition by fostering new spaces to share intimacy, communicate, and build a relationship, Kafaee and Kohut (2021) expand on the notion that digital forms of communication may be prominent in long distance relationships. Focused on sexually suggestive forms of communication, sexual boredom was introduced as a challenge to distanced companionship (Kafaee and Kohut, 2021). Sexting is underscored as a maintenance tool for sexual boredom and correlated with higher perceived relationship satisfaction, investment, and lower quality of alternative options.

Evaluating how technology has advanced the general capacity for intimate relationships to be fostered informs conversations on technology pushing new mediums for learning about sex and sexuality. Albury et al, (n.d.) exposes sextech as a global market of sexual pleasure and well being-focused devices, that encompasses biomedical technologies, therapeutic apps and platforms, and pleasure and entertainment focused media services. Whether it is vibrators, virtual reality, erotica, machine learning powered chatbot companions, or doll-like sex robots, sextech sits at the intersection of ethical and feminist technologies as it focuses on “innovation that supports and improves people's health by way of software, products, pharmaceuticals, and technology” (Albury et al, n.d.). From digital technologies and platforms comes the promise of personalized support, pleasure, information, accessibility, and alternatives to underfunded public health institutions–like sex education.

In Langcaster-James and Bently (2018) “Beyond the Sex Doll: Post Human Companionship and the Rise of the ‘Allodoll,’” the advancements in production of human simulations and intimate ideas with inanimate objects is unpacked next to hyper realistic sex dolls. In tandem with Langcaster-James and Bently (2018), Depointi et al., (2023) examines expectations and imaginaries about artificial intelligence next to the creation of allodolls with machine learning algorithms that cater to consumers needs. Depointi et al., (2023) argues the existence of a gendered imagery for the ideal AI allodoll that is in line with expectations of human-like behavior. They found measurements of good artificial intelligence were marked by awareness of context, memory, politeness, kindness, and knowledge, while mean responses were a result of AI lacking context, censorship occurred in discussing controversial and explicit topics with AI, and the ideal bot was free of glitches.

Both Langcaster-James and Bently (2023) and Depointi et al. (2023) point out an extreme end of sexual technologies in the production of robot companions that cater to users' needs, but sextech is broadened and simplified with the inclusion of adult media. Mustanski et al. (2015) uncovered that sex education exists outside of the school systems and in the hands of the community, parents, and socio-cultural spaces, but Alice Echols (1983) work on mainstream porn solidified adult media as a sex educator in itself–often determining norms for pleasure, bodily treatment, and ways of intimacy. Male narrative mainstream hardcore (MNMH) content is often centered in discourse on pornography, and has been a catalyst for sexual revolutions and the marginalization, fetishization, and mistreatment of bodies fueled by heteronormativity, allonormativity, and sexual compulsion (Bell, 2001; Echols, 1983).

Brennan (2017) analyzes the infamous male narrative site “Boys Halfway House,” remembered for its gonzo gay porn and facade of liberating sexual fantasies despite often depicting violence, abuse, and r*ape through the exploitation of male bodies in exchange for housing. Although it is scary that sex was leveraged for a roof over one’s head, it is scarier to imagine this platform as educational for certain kinds of intimacies and those who might struggle to find it in a more digestible way. Also, viewership of porn often correlates with hardcore abusive fantasies through “realistic scenarios” and perpetuates individuals' development of similar unhealthy fetishes (Brennan, 2017).

The documentary Moneyshot: The Pornhub Story discusses Pornhub as a “crime scene” that situates almost every discussion on the subject because of its timing next the explosion of the internet in the late ‘90’s and 2000s (Hellinger, 2023). If one would consider pornography and adult content a sex educator, Pornhub might be the principal sexual tech educator and culpable of extensive negative discourse related to sex, sexuality, and intimacy. Sexual tech dominance in mainstream media form has a massive impact on society and wields power in many different ways – oftentimes invisible. With the idea that tube pornography is a catalyst for male sexual revolutions and marginalizes other identities by creating content that objectifies or lacks any healthy portrayal of non-allonormative identities, Vicky Kirby’s “Identity and Politics” expands with the assumption that adult content in this form renders one subject (2006). “When power is regarded as an aspirated property, it seems inevitable to compare it to a commodity that can be possessed or lost, or a force that we control, or are controlled by” (Kirby, 2006; pp. 108). Porn pushing content that makes bodies feel more like objects of pleasure than subjects of pleasure exposes a patriarchal narrative and capitalist agenda. Felt viscerally, “porn not only reflects our culture’s misogyny, but causes violence against women” and LGBTQIA+ people (Echols, 1983; pp. 46).

With pornography, there is a “double valence of subordinating and producing” that is internal to power – and entails an endless domain of paradoxes because of the fact that porn is a tool for pleasure as much as it is for inflicting harm (Kirby, 2006; pp.109). While some people's pleasure is culpably found in domination of others, Kirby points out that “a subject is passionately attached to his or her own subordination,” and it would be wrong to think we are unattached to the subordination created by adult mainstream entertainment (Kirby, 2006; pp.110). One can find pleasure in the recreation of tropes that seem violent in pornography, but might be safe and consensual in their respective intimate settings. Even though “power is negative, restrictive – a unitary force that originates outside the subject and stamps it into submission” finding pleasure in subjugation is where “agency exceeds power” (Kirby, 2006; pp.111-112). Echols, on the other hand, would not settle for Kirby’s application of agency. Many would argue that “pornography is the theory and rape is the practice,” rendering bodies no other choice than to “follow the dictations of man” (Echols, 1983; pp. 46). Power flows between bodies, minds, and systems, and porn perpetuates a similar violent power where “personal integrity is so effectively inculcated with disciplinary expectations that he is the psychic instrument of his own compliance” (Kirby, 2006; pp. 112). In other words, porn is the tool that renders many disciplined to norms of sexual dynamics and intimacy.

Ethical, Feminist, and Queered Lenses of Sex Education

Beginning the conversation on queer, ethical, and feminist sextechs and medias with where we left off on porn, the idea that there are other ethical kinds of sex education advancements which take on a feminist frameworks and praxis can be analyzed nicely next to Jack Halberstam’s The Queer Art of Failure. Halberstam situates low theory as “trying to locate the in-between spaces that save us from being snared by the hooks of hegemony and speared by the seductions of (capitalism)” (Halberstam, 2011; pp. 1). Capitalism nourishes pervasive mainstream notions, and its existence is chained to violence; however, low theory postulates different sextech critiques. “Being taken seriously means missing out on the chance to be frivolous, promiscuous, and irrelevant,” which already sounds like a bad porn title – but is actually Halberstam articulating something of great importance (Halberstam, 2011; pp. 3).

We know present sex education methodologies have the potential to reify the bad, but can resist powers as well. Olga Marques, in “Women’s Ethical Pornographic Spectatorship,” said that “ethics is prominent in self governing individuals” and in a “neoliberal society, we are responsible to make an enterprise of our lives” as “we have a power to consume” (Marques, 2018). While it is charged to say “we have a power to consume,” we do as it can be situated in acts of resistance as simple as eating, acquiring new knowledge, or even using pornography and sexual technologies that provide pleasure otherwise stripped from people. After being depicted as objects of pleasure, the subjectivity of pleasure for vulva owners depicted by porn is based in low theory. “Allowing women to have the agency where the pornstar is the object of female desire” states a “reciprocal process” where porn can be gazed upon by the vulva owners too (Smith, 2015; pp. 48). Allegra Smith (2015) discusses how ethical porn intervenes with the male gaze by producing content that allows for people of all identities and sexualities to gaze, be sexual, and feel desired. If general sex tech and adult film consumers understand, like Marques (2018) and Smith (2015), that one must be critical of whether they consume ethical, degrading, genuine, and/or consensual, content shows agents want to experience real aspects of sexuality. Ethical pornography is just an example of technology that offers a window into realistic scenarios of culture, sexuality, and bodies – and therefore a multitude of ways for people to understand pleasure, identity, and sex education topics (Smith, 2015).

Reflecting on Embodied experiences in Sex Education Guided by Feminist and Queer Theorists

Storytelling:

In my experience, there are two different aspects to an education no matter the discipline in which you are situated: learning and unlearning. In “Education of A Story Teller,” written by Toni Cade Bambara and delivered to me in Dr. Hill’s “Introduction to Women’s Studies” class, I learned a lot about what I was “pretending to not know” (Bambara, 1996). After arriving home from school, a young Bambara wants to unpack Einstein's theory of relativity with her grandmother who eagerly awaits listening. Bambara starts with the notion that “this is no song or singing tale, but a theory ” on how the world works. Shortly afterwards, her Grandmother responded with her own visceral and abstract understanding for how time is distorted, claiming that if Bambara’s friends “don’t know it then you don’t know it, and if you don’t know that then you don’t know nothing” (Bambara, 1996).

I preface an embodied analysis on sex education with this piece because I feel that there are no theories descriptive of the entirety of my experiences. At the end of the day, I am only left with the support I have garnered for myself and the words I have to tell the story. This is my understanding of how time and space gets distorted from my own lived experiences of sex education, and unlearning comes into play when other experiences differ.

Compulsory Sexuality:

Compulsion is a power dynamic delivered by outside forces that make it incredibly difficult to cultivate agency – leaving people with a perception of volition that possibly results in dissonance. Dissonance is what happens when compulsory actions fail to sit well with our bodies and minds – leaving us to question why we sought it out in the first place. In Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture, by Sherronda J. Brown, the positionality of Black asexuality is posited as a model of gratification that de-centers usefulness when restructuring sexuality. What is discovered through this analysis is the nature of compulsory sexuality within sex education curricula, and the kind of ways normative understandings of sexuality are ingrained in us.

Driving home from Manhattan Beach, California to the Los Angeles Valley in my early adolescence, I found myself feeling vulnerable after having sex for the first time. I believed the preconception that sex was supposed to be a pleasurable and safe space for vulnerability, and was excited to try being sexual – but it was messy, unsafe, and retrospectively could have been more positive.

Compulsory sexuality is “the idea that sex is universally desired as a feature of human nature, that we are essentially obligated to participate in sex at some point in life, and that there is something fundamentally wrong with anyone who does not want to– whether it be perceived as a defect of morality, psychology, or physiology
 creat[ing] barriers to seeing asexuality as a valid existence” (Brown, 2022; pp. 7). The impact of compulsion implies how sex feels necessary to be happy and that one is not an adult until they have experienced sex.

In my predominantly white, middle-class private high school in Los Angeles, sex education was delivered by external providers like Planned Parenthood, offering what I consider some of the best education on the subject. However, during elementary school, boys and girls were separated for these classes, which compromised the comprehensiveness of the education. This approach particularly failed to address LGBTQIA+ inclusivity and sexual agency. Although it didn’t actively exclude any group, the mission of these critical discussions could be seen as a passive harm by leaving out asexual experiences.

Asexuality has historically been defined as “lacking sexual attraction and desire” – but this is far from the correct definition. If Asexuality means “relating sexually to nobody,” then the ace person operating within a “self contained sexuality” would have struggled in a sex education curriculum like mine because of the hidden bolstering of allonormativity. Within compulsory sexuality is allosexuality or the normative notion that sexuality and attraction is experienced by an agent, actively juxtaposing asexuality (Brown, 2022). The concrete foundation laid by allonormativity within sex education solidifies with the assumption that experiencing sexual attraction is fundamental to the reason a sex ed. curricula is required in the first place. Sherronda J. Brown reminds us that comprehensive sex education falls short for it does not encompass every identity, but it simultaneously centers discourse from compulsory sexuality highlighting that a massive “problem of asexuality is the lack of language to address asexuality” (Brown, 2022). Moreover, compulsive sexuality perpetuates harm that sex education struggles to even mitigate.

Barriers to Sexuality and Pleasure:

Adrienne Maree Brown captures positionality in accordance to whiteness within sex education in their work titled Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good, as they operationalize pleasure as a “measure of freedom” (Brown, 2019; pp. 4) As a Black person, Brown says they experience “a lot of pleasure in being Black” and despite “much of how we experience and practice gender” being a “social construct” – she also enjoys being a woman. Access to pleasure, according to Brown (2019), is systemically delivered to those oriented on a spectrum of whiteness, and the birth of Pleasure Activism comes out of the necessity to liberate experiences of pleasure undefined as ideal. Whether it is queerness, blackness, or anything else, pleasure activism is an effort to “promote, impeded, or direct social, political, economic, and environmental reform or stasis with desire to make improvements in society about the degree one can relate to “feeling happy, satisfaction, and enjoyment” (Brown, 2019; pp. 11).

Until more recently, pleasure as a facet of sex education was unwelcome in curricula, not because people actively objected to it, but because conversations surrounding pleasure were stigmatized and uncomfortable to start. Audre Lorde’s “Uses of the Erotic” orients us around “many kinds of power, used and unused, acknowledged or otherwise” – including “the erotic” as a “resource within each of us that lies in a deeply female and spiritual plane, firmly rooted in the power of our unexpressed or unrecognized feeling” (Lorde, 1978, pp. 53). In tandem with Brown’s Pleasure Activism, the erotic and pleasurable serve as a source of information to be wielded next to the historical “suppression of the erotic within our lives and consciousness” that has been misleading. We are educated explicitly and implicitly to think that pleasure and the erotic is supposed to look a certain way well before the demand of sex education.

From pornography, fetishization of sexual acts, bodies, and ways of being is perpetuated and mimicked next to capitalism and the desire for popular content. This is an active turn “away from the exploration and consideration of the erotic as a source of power and information, confusing it with its opposite, the pornographic” (Lorde, 1978, pp. 54). If the erotic is a measure of the “beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings,” the “internal sense of satisfaction to which, once we have experienced it, we know we can aspire” is conflated by adult films' compulsory sex associations.

While Lorde (1978) might argue that there is no room for the power of pleasure and erotic in pornography as it has done enough to misconstrue true meaning, Brown (2019) helps to position pornography within experiences of pleasure and sex education. From Brown (2019), next to the idea that pornography perpetuates harm is the capacity for pleasure. While not many people have the language to justify watching porn to help them access pleasure, navigating the interwebs and adult film world leads to finding ethical porn. Ethical porn is a film set where power dynamics are left outside the room and everyone is able to come together (no pun intended) to film content meant to arouse, that does not leave anyone undone as a result of the process of production and consumption.

Advocating for the Self: A Bad Feminist Sex Education Rooted in Love and Taught by Yours Truly

Because advocating for the self is always easier said than done, especially in intimate, sexual, and contexts where pleasure is a degree away from accessibility, I became incredibly curious about the kinds of ways sex education is taught beyond the classroom and adult film. Roxane Gay’s work titled Bad Feminist is a reminder that “essential feminism has led to the rise of sex positive feminism” and in reality – a massive foundation in my sex education work (Gay, 2014). Feminism is “associated with militancy” that asks one to not have any weaknesses, but exists in tandem with reminders that “performing one’s [Feminism] wrong initiates a set of punishments, both obvious and indirect, and performing it well provides reassurance and there is an essentialism of [feminist] identity after all” (Gay, 2014).

Andrea Dworkin was a feminist who hyper focused on aspects of sex, sexuality, and intimacy like me, but juxtaposed my sex positive views. While their theories deserve an entire chapter next to their implications with mine, the both of us exist as reminders that there is no one way to be a feminist sex educator. Historically, the feminist sex and porn wars separated people both striving for a world where people “don’t want to be treated like shit” (Gay, 2014). While some have argued for the destruction of the adult film industry for it perpetuates nothing but harm to them, others like me wish to dissect the industry in such a way to carve out whether it can be positive at all. The answer is both and, but I may be a bad feminist for that.

While deep down, some might think the work of a sex educator is to educate on sex and sexuality, I would argue in closing that our work is to do much more. We are to provide language as a foundation from which people can build connection and intimacy no matter the charge. Educating on sex and sexuality becomes a site for implementing tools that center consent and the agencies of all those involved. In many ways, our work translates and transforms into alternative theories on how to lead with love, compassion, and empathy – even when we lack alignment in values from those sitting across from, next to, or directly on top of us.

Conclusion: Praxis is Forever Bound to the Theory that Informs it

For my entire Colgate tenure, I have been curious about Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, not because of it being a discipline capable of teaching the discourse of liberation, but because it is applicable to my life and interests in changing sex education as we know it. Taking theory dirty work enacted of learning or unlearning, putting it into practice seems relatively easy next to the notion that I have just written more than plenty on my experiences as a feminist and queer theory informed sex educator, but I am just getting started.

Praxis has as many levels as the theories that inform what we are making tangible and sex education has historically been removed from feminist and queer theory praxis. When we begin with abstinence-only sex education, it is easy to see how theories for sex education are not applicable to all. Traditional methods like abstinence centric curriculums paved the way for demands of comprehensive topics, but a majority of the attempts of implementation fall short of addressing nuanced realities of sexuality, intimacy, gender identity, and other foundational identity tools. Moreover, the inadequacy of these curriculums are particularly pronounced for marginalized identities, who frequently find themselves either misrepresented or excluded altogether from every sex education framework. With sex education being rooted in compulsory sexuality, the asexual experience is rendered invisible – but there must be a way to include and inform everyone to the measure they desire.

The evolution of sex education from classroom curriculums into sexual media and technologies reflects the broader societal changes and ongoing struggles of balancing educational content with cultural and ethical considerations. While we know that adult film has been a cyclical form of harm among many communities, my understanding of feminist and queer discourse creates room for it to be an educator in positive forms of sex, sexuality, and intimacy. The emergence of feminist, queer, and technology-integrated sexual wellness and education models represents progressive efforts to create more inclusive, realistic, and empowering experiences of embodiment for agents; however, this is still a hypothetical. While these models challenge conventional narratives and strive to equip individuals with agency, the extent that they inform and teach critical thinking skills relating to topics of sexual health and relationships is reflected by societies' continued struggle with sex education topics.

The integration of new technologies and media into sex education offers unprecedented opportunities and challenges that many disciplines of academia are prepped to take on – but none are rigged like the feminist and queer theorist. People’s experiences of sex education range broadly next to vast amounts of curricula, there is no universal story to tell (Bambara, 1996). Looking closely at some of the more marginalized communities in sex education reveals how asexuals are excluded from curricula that center compulsory views of sexuality alongside allonormativity (Brown, 2022). Moreover, pleasure has prejudice making the personal incredibly political as sex education curricula normalizes what bodies are subject to satisfaction or objects of satisfaction (Brown, 2019). What is revealed in the end is a sex educational emphasis on the sexual or erotic, removed from real understandings of power (Lorde, 1978). While I may be a bad feminist for understanding the conflict that adult content and media plays in feminist and queer revolutions (Gay, 2014), Lorde (1978) reminds that impassioned and true erotic being is best shared among others and I am armed with peers in my strive for better sex educational modalities.

As digital platforms become more pervasive in their efforts to educate, important questions about privacy, consent, and digital divides are being asked by those who are eager to hold sex education methodologies accountable for the reverberations they have on society. Upon graduating from Colgate University, I have decided to create an archive of my feminist research that laid solid foundations for my work. With these resources filed, I will use the domain titled Acquaintedu.com as a platform for critically analyzing and thinking about sex education curriculums no matter the medium. Whether it is classroom, media, or technological methodologies, the extent that these unique curriculums are comprehensive, queer, feminist, and inclusive of certain groups and identities is documented and shared on Acquaintedu.com. Ethical considerations must guide the development and implementation of these technologies to ensure they enhance rather than compromise the quality of sex education one can experience – even if it is none at all. 

The future of sex education lies in the ability to adapt to changing dynamics of society and technology while staying rooted in principles and theories of inclusivity, respect, and empowerment no matter how they are learned. Moreover, the learning must never stop! While I am heading to graduate school and will continue in academia, we must continuously strive to bridge the gap between theory and practice beyond when it is easy and convenient, ensuring that individuals – regardless of their background or identity – have access to the knowledge and tools they need to lead healthy fulfilling lives to the sexual extent agents desire. From here, not only can we enhance individual well-being, but we can foster a more informed, compassionate, unified society.

Bibliography:

Agbemenu, K., Terry, M. A., Hannan, M., Kitutu, J., & Doswell, W. (2016). Attitudes and Beliefs of African Immigrant Mothers Living in the US Towards Providing Comprehensive Sex Education to Daughters Aged 12–17 Years: A Pilot Study. Journal of Immigrant and Minority Health, 18(5), 1053–1059.

Albury, K., Stardust, Z., & Sundén, J. (n.d.). Queer and feminist reflections on sextech. Sexual and Reproductive Health Matters, 31(4), 2246751. https://doi.org/10.1080/26410397.2023.2246751

Baams, L., Dubas, J. S., van Aken, M. A., & G. (2017). Comprehensive Sexuality Education as a Longitudinal Predictor of LGBTQ Name-Calling and Perceived Willingness to Intervene in School. Journal of Youth and Adolescence, 46(5), 931–942. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10964-017-0638-z

Bambara, C. Toni (1996); “Education of a Storyteller”

Bay-Cheng, L. Y. (2017). Seeing How Far I’ve Come: The Impact of the Digital Sexual Life History Calendar on Young Adult Research Participants. The Journal of Sex Research, 54(3), 284–295. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224499.2016.1139033

Beckman, F. (2013). A Nonlinear History of Sexuality: Deleuze with Foucault. In Between Desire and Pleasure (pp. 16–29). Edinburgh University Press. https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.3366/j.ctt3fgsds.5

Berg, H. (2021). Maybe the State Should Pay: Sex, Work, and the State. In Porn Work (pp. 154–182). University of North Carolina Press. https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.5149/9781469661940_berg.8

Brown, A. M. (2019). Pleasure Activism. AK Press.

Brown, S. J. (2022). Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture

Carrion, M. L., & Jensen, R. E. (2014). Curricular decision-making among public sex educators. Sex Education, 14(6), 623–634. https://doi.org/10.1080/14681811.2014.919444

Chamlin, D. R. (2022). You can paint with all the colors of the wind, but can you educate with them too? The discriminatory impact of non-comprehensive sex-education in public schools. Family Court Review, 60(1), 126–141. https://doi.org/10.1111/fcre.12630

Constantine, N. A., Jerman, P., & Huang, A. X. (2007). California Parents’ Preferences and Beliefs regarding School-Based Sex Education Policy. Perspectives on Sexual and Reproductive Health, 39(3), 167–175.

Depounti, I., Saukko, P., & Natale, S. (2023). Ideal technologies, ideal women: AI and gender imaginaries in Redditors’ discussions on the Replika bot girlfriend. Media, Culture & Society, 45(4), 720–736. https://doi.org/10.1177/01634437221119021

Dobson, A. S., & Ringrose, J. (2016). Sext education: Pedagogies of sex, gender and shame in the schoolyards of Tagged and Exposed. Sex Education, 16(1), 8–21. https://doi.org/10.1080/14681811.2015.1050486

Echols, A. (1983). Cultural Feminism: Feminist Capitalism and the Anti-Pornography Movement. Social Text, 7, 34–53. https://doi.org/10.2307/466453

Gay, R. (2014). Bad Feminist. Corsair.

Hooks, B. (1994). Outlaw culture: Resisting representations. New York: Routledge.

Hubach, R. D., Story, C. R., Currin, J. M., Woods, A., Jayne, A., & Jayne, C. (2019). “What Should Sex Look Like?” Students’ Desires for Expanding University Sexual Assault Prevention Programs to Include Comprehensive Sex Education. Qualitative Health Research, 29(13), 1967–1977. https://doi.org/10.1177/1049732319844502

Janning, M., Gao, W., & Snyder, E. (2018). Constructing Shared “Space”: Meaningfulness in Long-Distance Romantic Relationship Communication Formats. Journal of Family Issues, 39(5), 1281–1303. https://doi.org/10.1177/0192513X17698726

Kafaee, N., & Kohut, T. (2021). Online sexual experiences and relationship functioning in long distance relationships. The Canadian Journal of Human Sexuality, 30(1), 15–25. https://doi.org/10.3138/cjhs.2020-0038

Langcaster-James, M., & Bentley, G. R. (2018). Beyond the Sex Doll: Post-Human Companionship and the Rise of the ‘Allodoll.’ Robotics, 7(4), 62. https://doi.org/10.3390/robotics7040062

Mustanski, B., Greene, G. J., Ryan, D., & Whitton, S. W. (2015). Feasibility, Acceptability, and Initial Efficacy of an Online Sexual Health Promotion Program for LGBT Youth: The Queer Sex Ed Intervention. The Journal of Sex Research, 52(2), 220–230.

Orenstein, P. (2016, March 20). When Did Porn Become Sex Ed?: Conversations between adults and teenagers about what happens after “yes” remain rare. SR1.

Sanders, T., Trueman, G., Worthington, K., & Keighley, R. (2023). Non-consensual sharing of images: Commercial content creators, sexual content creation platforms and the lack of protection. New Media & Society, 14614448231172711. https://doi.org/10.1177/14614448231172711

Stanger-Hall, K. F., & Hall, D. W. (2011). Abstinence-Only Education and Teen Pregnancy Rates: Why We Need Comprehensive Sex Education in the U.S. PLoS ONE, 6(10). https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0024658

Summers, J., Burnett, E., & Kenin, J. (2024, January 30). A sex educator on the one question she is asked the most: “Am I normal?” NPR. https://www.npr.org/2024/01/30/1226703304/sex-therapy-relationships-intimacy-advice