The Difference Between

Once upon a time there lived a young woman named Anna, who had a mother who didn’t know the meaning of the phrase ‘too much information’. Anna’s mother believed that frank discussions about sex and its repercussions should be common place, and she did so whenever and wherever she could. Sex was discussed when Anna brushed her teeth, before school, after school, before, during and after every family dinner, and especially when she suspected that Anna was having her period. She was mortified when her mother decided to show her the tampons she had bought for her, and even more so when she asked if Anna knew how to use them. Anna’s mother did everything she possibly could to make her daughter aware of the dangers of having sex too young, of not being prepared emotionally and physically, of being taken advantage of, of being branded ‘easy’, but she still worried (and worries to this day) that she was not doing enough.

Think I’m exaggerating? I’m not. ‘The Joy of Sex’ was one of the first books that I remember reading from cover to cover. As I looked at the pictures I remember feeling ridiculous, shy and not a little disgusted, but my mother still asked me if I had any questions. Well, of course I had questions but I wasn’t about to ask her! She was my mother for Christ’s sake; she wasn’t supposed to know about sex! I remember thinking to myself that I was never going to have to ask my mother questions because I was never, never going to have sex. Looking at those pictures made me think that sex was dirty, humiliating and just plain stupid. Why would two people waste their time on something that made them hot, sweaty and make stupid faces?

Of course I grew out of that chaste phase and I began to accept the fact that sex was a natural part of life; it was supposed to be enjoyed and cherished, and not to be given away at the drop of a hat. As I hit my teenager years I began to witness the ‘dangers’ my mother had so often spoken of. Some of my friends had pregnancy and STD scares, some actually did become pregnant, some had abortions and some became teenage mothers, and all of them were branded as sluts, but what surprised me most of all was that many of these girls ended up at my house talking to my mother. It was then that I realized how lucky I was: I had a mother who was not afraid to tell her daughter the truth.
What angered me then is what angers me now: the fact that these discussions obviously aren’t held in every household, and that sex is still considered to be a taboo subject with most parents. Those girls ended up at my house because they obviously felt that they couldn’t talk to their own mothers and that made me curious and angry. Why couldn’t they cry and sob at their own houses? Why did they have to come over to my house and bawl on my mother’s shoulder? The answer became clearer as I got older: No one had bothered to tell them. Sure, they knew the birds and the bees but no one had bothered to mention everything else that came along with them.

I am not a parent myself but I do know this: sex should be discussed openly, honestly and without shame; it should be treated as a natural progression of life and should not be swept under the rug. There is so much sex on television and in magazines that it’s no wonder that the younger generations are unaware of the emotions that should accompany the act, and the responsibility that comes with the action. I honestly and firmly believe that it is the job of each and every parent to be as honest with their children as my mother was with me.

I am now in my mid thirties and sex is still a regular discussion with my mother and still quite scary as it seems that her sex life is much more active than mine, and I am still amazed at her ability to be so hilariously open about it. (“Honestly Anna, I don’t know why you need a boyfriend. Get a vibrator, they’re much less trouble.”) I am extremely grateful to her for making me aware of my body and how it should be treated, and I hope to one day pass that knowledge on to my own daughter, but for now I will just pass on this last little gem.
Honesty really is the best policy.

If you have comments about this article please email us @ comments@shebytches.com. We will post them on the right. You can also contact Anna @ anna@shebytches.com.