THE TEEN EXPERIENCE: College Junior Boy

Growing up, I always felt different.  Watching my friends begin to experience attraction towards each other, and proceed to explore that attraction with other kids, made me feel separate from the group.  I had the same curiosities but no outlet to express them.  That sense of “other” continued into high school as those around me began to crush, flirt, hook up, date, and all the while talked about who crushed, flirted, hooked up and dated with whom.  Within the realm of sexuality I felt separate from my community.  In fact I felt completely alone.  I turned to TV, movies and the internet for solace.  Sometimes I sought solidarity, but more often I sought escape.  I escaped into the TV lives of high school characters, whose lives seemed glamorous and fun when compared to my own.  Television and movies provided the space for me to turn away from my often times annoying sense of difference. 

            Though I escaped into other worlds often, I also knew not to let my own high school experience pass me by.  I went to parties, and for the most they were enjoyable.  Enjoyable, though also exhausting.  They constantly reminded me of the differences I felt so strongly in myself yet worked to hide from others.  I would always scan the room for possible issues that may arise.  Which girls could be looking my way, whose looks I might have to deflect?  What excuse would I use if someone told me a friend of theirs thought I was cute?  How would my dancing be perceived by the people around me?  How highly pitched could my laugh resonate around a room without it sounding too gay?  All of this running through my head while attempting to maintain an appropriate external expression of pleasure, no matter the anxiety I may have felt internally. 

            Like many people I know, I didn’t have penetrative sex in high school.  But I also didn’t give or receive oral sex, kiss, hold hands with or touch someone I felt attraction towards, or made it known that I thought someone was cute.  None of this happened until I was 18, the summer after graduation.  And when it happened, it all happened at once.  The first person I ever openly admitted attraction towards was also the first I had sex with.  He also happened to be a man I met through a dating app and had known for only a brief time.  For a while this caused me a lot of shame, for it seemed like my first encounter story differed so greatly from those of my peers, the ones I had spent hours debriefing about in high school.  However, despite any shame I felt, the worst part about my first time was how amazing it was.  Amazing, yet to be kept to myself.  I was not out to my friends at the time, and so this wonderful experience had to remain within the confines of my own mind. 

            Far from a fairytale story, my first sexual experience was overwhelmingly positive and enjoyable.  I met the guy the week before at coffee. I felt comfortable with him. We hit it off, and decided to meet up at my house.  I was upfront with him about my inexperience, which he neither fetishized nor shamed me for.  I was slightly nervous in the moment because of how my first time was unfolding so unlike any movie I’d seen or story I’d heard in the past.  But I soon came to appreciate the differences between the facade of first times and my own first time.  Whereas most teen movies show the character’s first time happening in a setting like a party, I was in an environment in which I felt completely comfortable.  Unlike many of my friends, I was totally sober at the time and felt clear-headed.  Rather than put pressure on me to know what I was doing, my partner guided me gently and consensually.  The person I chose to first have sex with may have not known me well as a person outside of a sexual context, but because of my high school health class I went into it confidently that at the very least it would be safe and consensual because those were the priorities I communicated.  The sex we ended up having was communicative, mutually pleasurable, respectful, intimate and fun.  And to this day that is exactly the sex that I seek.  I have never had sex drunk, unsafely, or with someone I felt uncomfortable communicating with. 

            I feel lucky to be able to say that my sexual experiences so far have all been positive, and that I now can talk openly and honestly about them.  I finally let go of the shame I felt for hooking up with people I met through apps because I knew I had the tools to ensure that I stayed safe and have mutual comfort prioritized.  Just like how an experience that mimics social standards doesn’t translate directly to enjoyment, an experience that differs from the norm doesn’t have to result in disaster.  The context within which I meet my partners is not what matters.  What matters is being an advocate for myself and my safety, never shying away from saying no to anything or anyone that feels wrong, asking for and giving consent, and allowing myself to enjoy whatever feels right to both my partner and I.  For a long time I felt left out of the world of sex, and wished that I had gotten the chance to explore more in high school.  Now looking back, I appreciate the time I got to spend maturing and growing outside of the hookup culture, because I know I will never take the privilege of sex for granted. 

ANONYMOUS QUESTIONS 5

Every quarter I will share questions from our anonymous question link that reveal what students really want to know but may be afraid to ask. This month:

How do I get my parents to stop fighting in front of me?
What if my friend's parent wants me to tell them what my friend's been doing, and to keep it a secret from my friend?
What is the media's effect on people's sexuality?
What does a positive relationship with sex look like?
Is the only way to find my sexuality through experimenting sexually?

THE TEEN EXERIENCE: Rising College Junior

Looking back to high school, I can clearly see how poorly timed this boy was. In a
period when I was feeling unprecedentedly small, the flirting and attention he
brought seemed to relieve my isolation; being noticed was a potent but superficial
feeling. However, this boy did not only exist as a remedial fantasy, and eventually, I
could no longer ignore that high school came with expectations of what young men
and women do together. One night, I found myself slightly drunk in an upstairs room
of a random classmate’s house. And as I kissed that boy, every alarm in my body
rang with a siren that told me that this was not what I wanted. So I stopped. I told
him no.

And after I rolled off of him, and slinked my way out of the room, nothing about it
felt unique or empowering. At the time, I thought it would be my social downfall, but
ultimately, even with the charm of being noticed, I knew my boundaries– what I
wanted, and how I wanted to feel. In the few conversations that this moment from
high school has ever come up, people seem to be surprised by my self-awareness
and my ability to say no. Sadly, others have found this “no” to be impressive, and
through these brief moments of hindsight, I have learned to see the value of Shafia’s
education.

Shafia’s honest, inclusive, and engaging lessons helped me to understand my
sexuality on a holistic level. Every day in class, we deconstructed the warped
expectations and pressures surrounding sex, and in their place, I was given the
opportunity and tools to develop my own boundaries defined by my own terms. The
scenarios, games, and discussions in class did not give me the words to say “no” that
night, so much as they showed me that I deserved and was capable of making my
sexual experiences healthy, safe, and fun.

These principles I built in Shafia’s class have proven to be a valuable tools in
navigating the ever-evolving process of understanding my sexuality. In a culture
where sex carries disproportionate social weight, there is a certain freedom that
comes from the ability to have my own relationship to sex, and for me, this freedom
has given me confidence in my ability to consent; knowing the power of my “no” has
allowed me to explore how it feels to say “yes.” As I have changed in my years since
that night in high school, so too have my boundaries, and as I gain more positive
experiences, these boundaries will continue to adapt. However, what will remain are
the lessons learned from Shafia that taught me to see my sexuality as it uniquely
relates to my own life.

ANONYMOUS QUESTIONS 4

Every quarter I will share questions from our anonymous question link that reveal what students really want to know but may be afraid to ask. This month:

How do I know I won't be judged for relating to a topic we are discussing in class?
How do you know what size condoms to buy?
What differentiates a romantic relationship from a platonic one? Is it only physical attraction that separates it?
Is it disrespectful to family members to not come out to them because you are not sure or you don't feel your sexuality defines you?
What language do I use to ask for consent? What if they say no? How should I respond?

THE TEEN EXPERIENCE: Madison, Rising College Freshman

The first day of freshman orientation might as well be judgement day. If you wear some running shorts and a t-shirt, you don’t care enough. If you wear a tank and some new jean shorts, you care too much. Better wear makeup to look presentable, but not too much or you’ll be deemed “extra.” There is a middle ground that everyone fights to find, but can’t because it doesn’t actually exist. Regardless of what you wear, seemingly every other kid passes judgement. So of course, the night before orientation, I sat in my room trying to piece together an appropriate outfit for the next day. I settled upon some blue jean shorts and an olive green t-shirt from h&m. This was my version of the sought after “middle ground.”

For most girls at my school, freshman year seemed to go a little like this: wear cute clothes (without trying too hard), make lots of new friends (whether they’re real or not, nobody cares), do well in school (to set up your next chapter), and get the attention of an older boy (preferably a sophomore). At the time, these steps seemed so important. If you followed them you’d be set, and if you didn’t you’d be lost. So we did. It was fun, but it was absolutely exhausting. Monday through Friday was all about getting through the week without sweating in P.E., or tripping and eating the floor in the forum between classes. Friday and Saturday were for getting dinner or going swimming with friends. Sunday was for homework. Then start all over Monday. Freshman year, I developed into a social animal.

Sophomore year was a little bit different, with a little more emphasis on doing well in school, and a little less on the clothes. Friends and boys seemed just as important as they used to. It became a competition as to who took the most classes and who got to the ACT/SAT tutor first. If you didn’t have a tutor by the spring of that year, you might as well be screwed for the college process (which was a total joke, we were 15). The school week was more about who was in the library and who wasn’t. Even if you didn’t have much work, you would sit in the library on your computer to at least look like you gave a crap about your future (I was one of those kids). This year, I thought that I had developed maturity.

Junior year continued on the same path. School grew to be more important than clothes, friends, and even boys at times. The number of A’s on a report card and the score on a standardized test were the most important piece of the puzzle. Memorize the right answers rather than how to get them and you’ll be just fine. My curiosity was pushing daisies. I was lucky enough to have parents who cared enough about school and grades to give a gentle push without being on my back all of the time. The only thing they truly cared about was my best effort. Unfortunately, that was not the case for most of my friends. While their parents were riding them about grades and scores, my parents weren’t, so I decided to take care of that myself. Below a 90 was not the end of the world, but it wasn’t good. I worked myself harder than I ever had before and developed a work ethic that impresses me today.

Senior year carried out that same work ethic for the first semester of the year. I applied to the schools I had most interest in early and was lucky enough to get in, saving me hours of more applications to fill out for regular time. I worked the hardest I ever had in my life and it paid off. My parents were proud and I was proud. I was finally able to sit back and relax for a minute. Because of the nature that I had worked through junior year and the first bit of senior year, it felt weird to take a night off every once in a while. I was able to see my friends without stressing about what I should have been working on instead. Finally I was able to find myself and put time into what mattered to me, so I took two independent studies at school (one on addressing sexual assault and consent, and one on refugee resettlement). Senior year was all about finding and understanding myself and my friends. Every single one of us had different things (and hard things) going on in our minds and at home. During this time, I developed a sense of empathy.

From all of what you just read, you could assume that I had a terrible high school experience and that I just love to complain. Neither of those thoughts ring true. I had a pretty wonderful high school experience. I made the best of friends who I will keep for the rest of my existence. I developed a strong work ethic that will serve me well in the years to come. But most importantly, I got to know myself; I developed a strong self-awareness that has benefitted me greatly. I grew into a (mostly) confident young woman with an idea of what I’d like to leave in my wake, and for that, I will be forever grateful.

ANONYMOUS QUESTIONS 3

Every quarter I will share questions from our anonymous question link that reveal what students really want to know but may be afraid to ask. This month:

If both people are equally drunk then who is responsible for asking for consent?
How do I meet people if I'm not into hooking up?
How do people prove harassment with nudes if they are sent on snapchat?
If you can get STDs in your mouth is there a way to protect yourself?
How do I tell my partner what I want sexually without sounding aggressive?

THE TEEN EXPERIENCE: Rising College Sophomore GIRL

I’ve always been acutely aware of two things in my life: 1. I am a brown multiracial woman and 2. I am fat. Now before I start, I hope you, the person reading this, understands that I call myself fat with pride. It is a fact, and frankly I’ve become too tired of carrying around the shame this small three-letter word holds. Now that that’s clear, I can get started.

Being brown and fat in a society like today’s is hard. You can be brown and thin. That’s manageable. But brown and fat? Man, sometimes I feel doubly screwed. Things are changing though. Big female and male models are taking up more space. It’s exciting, but also alarming. Alarming because again I see that there is marketing being done to project the “right” kind of fat. This fat is toned. Has a relatively flat stomach. This fat is not my body. And it hurts. Is this body desirable? Can I even make it desirable? Quick answers: yes and yes.

I’ve had two boyfriends; both of who were in the later years of the nineteen I’ve been living. While I’d love to say that before them I was secure in my belief of my self-worth and desirability, that’d be a lie. I knew I was a smart, kind, attractive and outgoing person, but to have someone else (especially someone of the opposite sex) acknowledge those traits made it more real. Why that was the truth is in and of itself an entirely other conversation. I learned a lot from them both. I learned what I need in a relationship, what works/doesn’t work etc. I also learned (after our breakups) that I was attractive before they asked me out and that I would continue to be so after. Like a quote that I found and adore, “You not finding me attractive is not going stop me from being attractive.” Big revelation number one: I am an inherently beautiful person and that beauty is not contingent on anyone. Big revelation number two: sex shouldn’t make you self-conscious.

My second boyfriend and I had been dating a few months when we decided to have sex. We were both virgins. Yes, I was a freshman in college and still a virgin. Totally normal and completely not embarrassing. I won’t get into the detail, but to sum it up in one word, I’d say “fun.” It was fun. We laughed, communicated our needs, embraced the awkward mishaps of getting to know the other person’s body, and most of all I felt comfortable and safe. I didn’t think about my body at all. Wasn’t scared that my tummy rolls or stretch marks on my breast and hips would scare him away. I didn’t want to, as a matter of fact, I didn’t even think about, hiding myself from him and that was part of my big revelation number two. Me, a brown, fat woman, was capable of experiencing this level of intimacy – I was worthy of it. And when done right, I had no reason to care about the shape of my body. Even though we broke up, I cherish that moment we shared, and use it to build my expectations of all my future sexual experiences.

Knowing and practicing that my body is worthy of love are two very different things. I, of course, will have days when I don’t feel attractive. When I’ll cover myself up from the world, but that’s okay. For as many days that I find myself feeling ashamed of my body, I will celebrate it and show it off to the world. This brown fat body is worthy of being seen, of being cherished, and of being proud.

ANONYMOUS QUESTIONS 2


Every quarter I will share questions from our anonymous question link that reveal what students really want to know but may be afraid to ask. This month:

"At this age is it okay to not want or crave sex?"

"Can you please enlighten us on the "popping-the-cherry" thing?"

"Why is 'yes means yes' better than 'no means no'?"

"How do I know if I'm gay?"

"To shave or not to shave...my pubes?"

THE TEEN EXPERIENCE: 19YR OLD college freshman Girl

Ever since middle school I always thought high school would include having a boyfriend, losing my virginity to him, and a bunch of other great things. Once freshman year began, I started hanging out with the ‘hot’ girls of our grade. We went to upperclassmen parties and many of my friends, as time went on, hooked up with guys. Boys became an integral part of our conversations; we talked about who hooked up with whom at what parties and how it was.

This did not bother me until the spring of sophomore year when most of my friends had lost their virginities. I felt like there was something wrong with me. I hadn’t even really made out with a boy. Other girls hadn’t lost theirs, but I felt left out of the conversations with my friends because I felt I had nothing to add. At the same time, I began to form closer relationships with the boys in my grade. This, in some ways, validated me because even though I was not in a romantic relationship with any of them, I felt special because none of the other girls were close with these guys.

This all came to a climax at a birthday dinner for one of my friends in the winter of junior year. As we sat around drinking and talking, one of the girls proposed that we play ‘never have I ever.’ A game I truly hate. The game entails people going around in a circle, saying something that they have never done, and then those who have done it, must drink. This not only puts everyone’s private life on full display, it alienates those who have not done the activities in question. They went around saying things like “never have I ever liked the taste of cum” and “never have I ever 69ed.” Not only was I incredibly uncomfortable, I felt extremely inadequate and upset. When it got to me, I said I didn’t want to play. After they made me participate, I said I had never hooked up with anyone that went to our high school. Everyone drank. I felt excluded and embarrassed. I got up and went to the bathroom and texted my other friends to ask if I could hangout with them. When I returned to the ‘never have I ever’ game, it had changed. My friends were going around telling stories of losing their virginities. At this moment, I got up with tears in my eyes and left.

In the spring of my junior year, I started hooking up with one of my guy friends. Even though I wasn’t that into it, I was glad for the experience and to have someone to talk about with my friends. I felt validated by the fact that someone wanted to make out with me at parties and that everyone knew. Even though I was slightly obsessed with the idea of sex and losing my virginity, I knew deep down that I did not want to lose my virginity to him. I felt uncomfortable in my body in every way and could not imagine being fully naked and vulnerable like that with someone. I didn’t feel connected to him sexually, we were just really good friends who made out when we were drunk, and because I knew that, I was too afraid and uncomfortable to have sex with him.

By March of my senior year, I conclude that I will never have sex with anyone and that my entire high school career was invalid. I started to think that if I could just lose my virginity to anyone, I’d be happy. I ended up having sex with this boy that I had a massive crush on for the entirety of high school. He was one of my closest guy friends. The sex itself was weird and uncomfortable, but because it was someone I knew really well and someone I cared about deeply, I didn’t even care. We ended up hooking up for many months afterwards and eventually started dating. Looking back, I am sad that I cared so much about having sex. It felt like everyone was having sex and that I was missing out and not experiencing high school. I thought that having sex would change me in the sense that all of my insecurities would just go away, but it really didn’t do that. I thought I would feel like a different person, but I was exactly the same. What I realized is that sex doesn’t define you. Sex doesn’t define your attractiveness. Just because you are not having sex, doesn’t mean that you are less attractive than those who are.  What matters is that you are happy with your choice and don’t let other people’s actions affect your own. Everyone is different and just because you are not having sex, doesn’t mean that people don’t care about you or value you.