For Goodness Sex Read Online Free Page B

hear that and be OK. Believe it! Then go ask him.

Chapter 2
Creating a Family Philosophy of Sex: What We Believe, What We Say, and How We Say It
    A s my students file into class on a late-winter day, happy to escape the chill outside, they look up at the board and smile. Two boys high-five. A voice I’m not meant to hear whispers, Finally! On the board I’ve written, “What is having sex?”
    We weren’t ready to talk about this until now. In a sexuality education classroom, as in any healthy relationship, intimacy and trust don’t just happen. They need to be developed. Only after talking about the basic definition of sexuality, about values and language, about our bodies, and about gender as both a biological and social construct are we ready to move on to the topic of sexual activity. We know each other; we’ve practiced listening to one another; we’ve had our first few awkward and heated discussions. We can handle this now.
    What they don’t realize is that we’re also about to have another conversation about values.
    As I begin the class, I ask students for their definitions of the phrase having sex . In the beginning of the year, I would have asked them to jot down their definitions on index cards, but at this point in the semester, they’re ready to shout out answers uninhibitedly. There’s a variety of responses, as usual, everything from slang (“two people doing it”) to comedic (“shakin’, bakin’, and makin’ ”) to technical (“penis inserted into the vagina”). Someone shouts, “Home run!” No matter the group, someone always shouts, “Home run!”
    “Let’s think about this in a bit more detail,” I say, passing around a handout. It contains a long list of possible sexual behaviors. I tell the students, “Go down the list and put a check mark next to anything that you think would be having sex. Then look at what you’ve selected and summarize that into a definition of having sex.” The noise level in the room increases. “Do this on your own, please,” I say. “You need to know what your definition is, and your friends can’t tell you that.”
    After they’ve completed the activity, I ask for a volunteer to share the definition.
    A young woman in a long floral skirt pipes up. “Vaginal intercourse that leads to orgasm in one or both partners.” As I write the definition on the board, I smile, because they think we’re finished, but we’ve just gotten started.
    “OK, does anyone want to add to that definition or alter it?”
    “Just a penis?” someone asks, “or can it be vaginal penetration with a sex toy or a finger?”
    “No! Just a penis—duh!” one of the boys shouts.
    “So, is it the penis or the penetration that makes it having sex?” I ask.
    Voices erupt all over the classroom.
    “It’s the penis!”
    “Maybe a sex toy but not a finger!”
    “That’s sex but not real sex!”
    “Gotta be a penis!”
    “What about anal?”
    “Ewwwwwwww!”
    “But, wait, then lesbians can’t have sex?”
    As our discussion, and sometimes our debate, continues, I revise the definition on the board. Often we wind up with multiple definitions. Some are more inclusive, some less. Some include an emotional component, others only mechanical acts. As I draw this part of the lesson to a close, I ask a series of questions that prompt the class to think about not just how they define having sex, but also why .
    “Think about these things,” I say. “How do your values about orgasm influence your definition of having sex? How do your values about the primacy of genitals versus other body parts influence it? How do your values about gender and sexual orientation influence your definition? What effect do your values about relationships or love have on your technical definition of sex?”
    “I don’t wanna talk about values!” says a well-dressed young man. “I wanna talk about having sex!”
    “You can’t talk about one without the other,” I say, smiling.
     
    Over my