When Ignorance Isn’t Bliss

ARE WE there yet?

After years of wrangling, legislators have yet to get anywhere with the reproductive health bill. That’s even after endless debates, forums, and discussions – among themselves and with members of the public. In fact, all that talk has managed to make a topic that would ordinarily attract most people boring: sex. That’s because if it’s not couched in repetitive fire-and-brimstone sermons, it’s been reduced to cold statistics.

And so it was that I came away not all that enlightened from yet another forum recently on the RH bill. But since it was held in a school, it did start me thinking about a particular component of the bill: sexuality education for the youth, which about a year or so ago ignited a debate over just what it was about and how early kids should be taught about the birds and the bees.

Experts explain, though, that sexuality education is not about just the act itself. What it is, they say, is teaching adolescents their sexual rights in hope of developing in them a health-seeking behavior. That includes, among others, the ability to choose the right sources of information and infer consequences and possibilities of health practices. But since our lawmakers have yet to agree on the bill yet, I didn’t think there was much formal sexuality education happening anywhere.

To test my theory, I decided to conduct an unscientific mini-survey and interviewed a handful of people who I thought would help represent the 20 million Filipinos aged 15 to 25 years old. While I wasn’t surprised that their stories indicated a lack of access to information, finances to meet reproductive health needs, and proper guidance, they convinced me that providing the appropriate sexuality education is a pressing issue and not a matter of debate.

Eric Manalastas, psychology professor at the University of the Philippines Diliman, also pointed out that discussion and sharing between the young individuals and experts are significant in the learning process.

“I think they have their own agencies,” he said. “They have their own concerns. So, it is important to know those, including their curiosities, and the (questions) they would like to ask. And not only what we thought they should know at a particular point in time.”

Young and clueless

Take the case of two teenagers, Archer and May (I’ve given my interviewees pseudonyms to preserve their privacy), who live in an impoverished community. Archer, 16, is already a freshman in college. May, a year younger, is still in high school. But when it comes to understanding sexuality, one is no better than the other.

In their community, teenage pregnancies are widespread and sex jokes are common. “We often hear it (sex) from the youth in our community,” Archer said. “During high school, some of our classmates made fun of it, and we laughed at the way they delivered the jokes.” For some reason, though, he has gotten the notion from a college classmate that condoms are lucky charms that would attract money.

May, meanwhile, said that sex and contraceptive methods were discussed in one session of their MAPEH class—Music, Arts, P.E., and Health. But she said she still didn’t know much about these topics.

I had more hope for a couple of 23-year-olds, George and Bertha, who edit online marketing articles. Both were raised as devout Protestants and educated in Christian schools, although contrary to what they were taught, they believe sex isn’t only for procreation, but also for recreation.

Yet it turned out that their sexual journey had been far from ideal – and not just because they were introduced to sex via their mothers’ Mills & Boon romance novels. “On one of the book’s cover, I saw a half-naked girl lying on a beach,” recalled George. “I became curious, and I read it.” The book’s explicit language and images made him masturbate afterward. He said that by Grade 5, boys begin to have the urge to pleasure themselves.

“We just talked about it out of the blue, making a joke out of it using hand gestures,” he said. “Then, you’ll try it, and find out it feels good.”

Currently, the couple is using a combination of pills and withdrawal as advised by friends. Bertha uses the Trust pill, not because a medical expert prescribed it, but because it is the only over-the-counter pill she can get her hands on.

Bertha once believed that withdrawal alone was effective and that her then boyfriend knew what he was doing. Besides, he also wore condoms as advised by the seniors in their high school. But Bertha got pregnant anyway.

“I didn’t want anyone to know my sin because it was wrong,” she said. “I didn’t think of carrying it on because I was afraid of discontinuing my studies. I didn’t think of telling my father because he wouldn’t support my decision. I am a woman, therefore, he would force me to marry the person, and I won’t be able to study anymore. That was my number one concern.”

She said her then boyfriend was told by a woman vendor in Quiapo about Cytotec and other medicines to be taken and inserted. The boy relayed the instructions to her, saying that “after an hour or two, they would take effect.”

“When I bled at school, I was rushed to the hospital,” recounted Bertha. “I asked the doctor not to tell anyone especially to my father, but I wasn’t of legal age. Parental consent was needed.”

Sex and sins

I also encountered Ellen, a 24-year-old high school teacher. She said that as early as the age of seven she was hearing about sex from her yaya, but she was neither interested nor able to understand what she was hearing.

By 10, however, Ellen had become curious about sex – a reaction, she said, to the strict taboos at home and at school. But all that she had on hand to answer her multiplying questions were romance novels.

Ellen was raised a Roman Catholic. She studied in an institution run by Catholic nuns. Self-hate characterized her freshmen and sophomore years due to her engagement in lesbianism and sexual acts. As she explained it, “Every time I would do it (sex), I’d thought I was the most sinful on earth.”

When she finally had a relationship with the opposite sex, “that’s when I worried about the possibility of pregnancy,” Ellen said. “My research on contraceptives was mainly based on peer reviews, Google, and the guy’s knowledge.” This was during her college years at the country’s premier state university.

“We used condoms,” she said. “It wasn’t good; it was painful. (But) it was somehow okay because he wanted it. It wasn’t forced on me. I just assumed that I’d automatically accept his preferences even if it hurts.”

It occurred to me that many of my interviewees “learned” about sex within school walls. But the information they had received turned out to be lacking or, in the case of what they heard from friends and schoolmates, downright wrong.

Manalastas noted that when done right, sexuality education desensitizes the concept of sex, making it normal and lessening the curiosity among young people. He also said that sexuality education should evolve based on the cognitive capacities of young Filipinos’ understanding of society. And it must be a lifelong process, he said, since sexuality is, too.