Chapter 7: Traditions of Silence

EMANUELLE IN BANGKOK

My mother always took us to the Lynbrook theater when the really big movies came out. It was close to the schools where she worked as a nurse and where my siblings and I attended grade school. Across the street was Vincent's Pizzeria, which made that area a popular destination for families. We saw everything from the animated Aristocats and Jaws to The Pink Panther and Ben, the film about a boy and his army of rats.

It was also the place where I saw pornography for the first time. I was twelve years old.

The theater was not some seedy venue in a red-light district. It was familiar to me, and on that bright, sunny afternoon, the idea of pornography only felt slightly deviant. This was also primarily because I didn't know exactly what pornography was or what I would be seeing that afternoon.

Reggie Williams, the older brother of my best friend Dave, told us that Emanuelle in Bangkok was playing and if we could get there, we could get in. Dave was two years older than me, and Reggie, who served in the military, was several years older than Dave. The large difference in their ages made their relationship quite different than what I had with my brothers. Reggie was a bridge to a world that I was told I was not ready for and was too young to understand. He also represented the mandate of masculinity that insisted that knowing about girls and sex is central to what made you a "real man." And even though I had no idea what they were actually talking about when they talked about girls and sex, I always acted as if I did. I can remember, one afternoon, looking at a magazine of naked women, getting an erection, and actually saying out loud, "What do I do now?" We laughed and it became a long-standing joke between us, but I was serious.

At that age, looking at naked women in a magazine was about all I could handle. It was what we did at that stage of the performance, and it validated my masculinity, making me one of the guys. When Reggie brought up the idea of going to see the movie, it felt more like a command than a suggestion. And since I carried on like I knew about sex, I had to take the lie one step further.

I remember my fear as we approached the theater. I felt alone. I couldn't share my anxiety with Dave and, thinking ahead to when I'd get home, I certainly couldn't discuss the experience with anyone there, not even my brothers. I also felt like I had no choice. This was a rite of passage. So we walked . . . and I remained silent.

After the movie, as we headed home, I learned that Dave had never seen porn either. But he didn't show any of the anxiety I had. (Maybe I didn't show it either—that thought was comforting.) I figured he was better at masking his lack of experience than I was; after all, he had learned enough from Reggie to talk a good game. Nevertheless, we acted as if we both knew what it was all about. I was certainly not going to ask any questions that would indicate how naive I actually was and that I had no idea what I'd just witnessed. Aside from some nervous laughter, the only lasting discussion was about the music. For me, it was like the music in all horror films, serving as a warning—time to look away to avoid the nightmares that were sure to follow.

The moving images we saw on the screen that day complemented the still images that, until that moment, were our first and only exposure to women in any sexual context. Since we had no real-life experiences as a point of comparison, the film presented us a dangerously misleading reality. While what we saw on the screen that day may have been pornography, to us it was sex, intimacy, and love. The "sex" we witnessed paralleled how we were coming to understand ourselves as boys: in a way that was emotionally detached. And while we were exposed to graphic sexual behavior, it was depicted without any of the emotional accountability that should exist between intimate partners.

The next day, Reggie congratulated Dave and me as if we had graduated to a new level of education. I acted as though the whole experience was just another day. Yet despite my cool disposition, I knew it was a big deal. It had validated our masculinity.

 

SEARCHING FOR THE TRUTH . . . ABOUT ME

I was twelve years old, exploring my independence and seeking validation of my masculine identity from the culture of boys and men around me. To push the boundaries of that exploration meant living beyond the confines of my immediate family, learning about those things that were discussed in hushed tones at home, if at all. There was no topic more cryptic and intriguing than sex. In fact, any reference to it began and ended with "you're not ready" and "when you get older." That made it more provocative and made me eager to discover its secret. So in the absence of the knowledge and wisdom of the adults in my life, I explored.

This episode reminds me of how lost, ignorant, and naive I once was. It also brings back memories of the awkward transition from not being interested in girls to the mandate of needing to know what they, and sex, were all about. At that time of my life, I was also beginning to excel as an athlete, which made for an ironic situation. The development of my physicality and athletic skills received acute attention from the adults in my life. But my development as a man—the mastery of my emotional toolbox and ideas of intimacy, sexuality, and maturity—was left to happenstance.

Most of us have had a Dave or Reggie in our life, especially in our youth—a close friend who advanced our experiences beyond the capacity or the willingness of our immediate circle of influence. Reggie was also a constant reminder and symbol of the performance of masculinity when it came to girls and sex: Have sex, have it often, and be cool about it. The funny thing was, it was as if he had all the answers about a subject I hadn't realized I had to know . . . until I realized I had to know.

Walking to Lynbrook to see Emanuelle was evidence of how far I was willing to go to satisfy my curiosity. What little I learned at the theater that afternoon was enough to support stories I had heard, no matter how shallow or inaccurate, as well as fill gaps left empty by the silence from the adults in my life. I had been given a visual image—and seeing is believing. The moans, smiles, and insatiable pursuit of the next encounter, especially by Emanuelle herself, substantiated Reggie's interpretation of sex. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves in the film. And the men were in charge, just as Reggie told us they should be. The truth was, I learned very little from Reggie beyond the expectation that I needed to know and embrace a specific attitude of emotionally detached male dominance. I actually had very little interaction with Reggie. My reference to him here is a euphemism for the pressure I was experiencing at the time from the world around me about the expectations of masculinity.

It's important to note the fundamental importance of the "sex narrative" to the performance of masculinity. There is no greater or more acute requirement of the performance than the challenge to remain emotionally distant and invulnerable. This is especially true with regard to that which we covet most, true love and physical intimacy. At best, men in the sex narrative demonstrate an emotionally cool distance and even indifference. At worst is what we witness in most pornography: complete disregard for the female partner while male actors perform total dominance and control, and even violence.

For all intents and purposes, this was my experience with the "streets," a term that refers to any place where we learned the things that our parents were reluctant or incapable of speaking about forthrightly and honestly. Nearly all children learn the lessons of the streets; they become reality in the absence of more informed and experienced perspectives provided by trusted adults.

Most parents worry about the influence of the streets because they don't want their children to get bad messages or the "wrong idea." They know how inaccurate the stories from the streets can be and don't want their children misled as they once were. Yet they often do nothing to provide good messages and positive ideas and understanding. Instead, they function like a hypervigilant hockey goalie attempting to block out the barrage of sexual messages, images, jokes, and innuendos that inundate the lives of young people.

In my youth, the streets were a physical location—a basement, backyard, the town park, or literally a street corner. For me, it was mostly the town park. The "streets" were free of supervision, though not free of the adult men who sought their obscurity for their nefarious behavior. Although not a dangerous environment, it wasn't one my parents preferred. But they were attentive, and by controlling when we were out of the house, they limited the negative influences on us.

Things have changed since those days. Today, in many ways, "the streets" is a figurative term. The detrimental influences that reach beyond parental control are not confined to a physical location or limited by any group or community. It is an amorphous space enabled by mobile technology and Internet access. "The streets" are held in the palm of a child's hand, accessible twenty-four hours a day.

Access and exposure to information has increased, while the level of adults' engagement with children remains relatively the same when it comes to those topics that we have all been raised not to talk about—especially sex. In my early days of working with young students, I recognized and understood parents' apprehension to take on difficult topics. But when I started working with college students, it quickly became evident that the conversations usually never happened at all.

 

GRAPHIC, HONEST, AND SUSTAINED

When I speak to a group of college students, I often take a poll: "Raise your hand if your parent, grandparent, or whoever raised you, supported you, and helped get you this far in life also gave you a graphic, honest, and sustained conversation about your bodies, intimacy, and sexual behavior."

When I initially began taking the poll back in 1999, on a regular basis no more than 2 percent of the room raised their hands. Today, the response remains relatively the same, with never more than 5 percent of hands affirming they had an honest and ongoing dialogue about sexual behavior. It's an astonishing piece of data that is hard to reconcile with what I generally assume of these students, which is that before entering college, they receive a modicum of sound guidance to help them generally make good life decisions. No matter that background, this seems an essential requirement for them earning a place in higher education.

For the 95 percent who don't raise their hands, I ask a follow-up question: "If you didn't get the information from your parents, where did you get it?"

I receive several answers: "older siblings," "friends," "sex education class." But overwhelmingly, "media" is cited as the greatest source of information. As I will explore in the next chapter, the ubiquitous presence of media in our lives provides an infinite source of both information on and interpretations of sexual behavior (as well as masculinity).

Yet despite the pervasive nature of media, parents and other adult figures can still play the most influential role in how children grow to understand relationships, intimacy, and themselves—as long as they actively play that role. If they remain silent, they transfer that role to other insidious influences.

The battle to shield young people from these influences is more difficult than ever. The reality is that many parents have simply not kept pace; they have essentially capitulated to other adults who want to control the thoughts and behaviors of children and their understanding of sexuality. Those "other adults" are often advertising agencies and entertainment companies that use sex and sexual imagery to shock or stimulate to profit financially. They may also be sexual predators who take advantage of the naivete of their targets.

It is a sad irony that while most children are conceived in the beauty of intimate and vulnerable love, their understanding of their conception is often first shaped by what is presented to them through emotionally detached and often violently sexist pornography. Why are two people who conceived a child reluctant to share the process of conception with that same child? Why do we, as a society, keep the most intimate and important moments of human life a secret?

We tell children to wait until they are old enough, but when is that exactly? Part of the problem is that it's often the adults, not the children, who are uncomfortable having an open and honest discussion. Sometimes they get caught up in the moral dimension of the issue. They remain inert as they struggle to reconcile their own views on sex and what is appropriate with how they themselves were raised. Meanwhile, children remain in the dark regarding the basic facts about their own bodies.

Remember the "Birds and the Bees" talk? I never heard it myself, so I don't know what that story was or how it was supposed to explain human intimacy. The Wikipedia entry on "The Birds and the Bees" explains it as "the metaphorical story sometimes told to children in an attempt to explain the mechanics and good consequences of sexual intercourse through reference to easily observed natural events." Now, I observed a lot of birds and bees when I was a boy. I saw nothing in their behavior that prepared me for Emanuelle. The film's portrayal of sex and intimacy was much more aligned with the story told by Reggie and Playboy.

 

CYCLE OF SILENCE

My mother and father shared a pragmatic attitude, which made them good at dealing with life's harsh truths. In most things we discussed, there was brutal honesty and respectful, open discussion. However, when it came to sex, they did not speak a word.

None of us expected any talks about intimacy from my father, and his silence transferred power to other people and other sources of information. My mother, like most moms, was loving, nurturing, and empathic. That was also in keeping with her profession as a registered nurse. Her empathy and caring served as a counterweight to my dad's stoicism. Through her abundant patience, she eased our fears and showed that we could be safe in the world. She was awesome when it came to dealing with everyday scrapes and bruises, her bedside manner was gentle and reassuring, and we were certain no ailment would go untreated. Yet as with my dad, she didn't talk to me about sex, intimacy, or the changes occurring with our bodies.

My mother was a nurse in elementary and middle schools. When I asked her if she talked about the subject with any of my siblings, reluctantly she admitted she had not. But she did recall the story of a boy who came to her to ask about a bodily change he was experiencing. She was surprised the student came to her because it was a sensitive issue. Nevertheless, her advice to him was that the changes were normal and that he had nothing to worry about. I'm sure she felt more comfortable talking with her own children, but since we never brought those sensitive matters to her, there was no occasion to discuss them. When I asked if her parents had ever had "the talk" with her, her response was curt: "Absolutely NOT!"

That abrupt response is what you expect when asking most adults if they talked with their parents about sex. The uneasiness about this issue is painfully clear. It's likely they never got the talk, so why should they know how or when to give it? This is how the sad cycle of silence is perpetuated and becomes as entrenched as any other tradition.

Some parents may think, Since I never got the talk, let them learn like I did. Others simply don't know how to handle the subject. If you never learned that sex and your own body are okay subjects to discuss, how would you ever develop the skills to approach the topics openly and tactfully when talking with your own children? While this is a real dilemma for parents, for children it can be an extremely confusing, awkward, and even dangerous time. Parents need to understand that children are not coming from a deviant place or with salacious intentions. The topics and questions may be beyond the comfort zone of parents, but we must remain open to our children's curiosity and not judge their questions. This may be the most difficult challenge of parenting, but it's also where meaningful conversations can and must begin.

 

SCARE TACTICS DON'T WORK

In the 1980s, when I began my career working with young people on issues of alcohol and other drugs, I served as a proxy voice for adults who had either acquiesced or were ill-equipped to speak honestly with their children. At least that's how I viewed my role, since I was essentially saying the same things as the adults in their lives. But young people witnessed the unhealthy behavior of those adults and therefore could see past the prevention rhetoric. I often felt that my primary function was to support the general hypocrisy and inability of adults to speak honestly; the message was, "Do as Don says, not as I do."

When I began the work of addressing men's violence against women, I again encountered prevention language and scare tactics regarding the topic we are most reluctant to discuss—sex. In fact, it was core to the fundamental message, and unfortunately it largely remains that way today. We tell young people, "Sex is dirty and immoral; it will cause unwanted pregnancies that will ruin your life and result in all manners and forms of disease." And almost in the same breath, we tell them to "save it for that one special person, the one you love."

I believe the language of fear is just as unhealthy. When I spoke about issues of drugs and alcohol, all I could offer was prevention language and scare tactics that supported some larger campaign to stop or prevent certain behavior. I was never comfortable with that approach. Moreover, the conversation about sexual behavior and violence is more nuanced; the continuum on which sexual behavior is learned is fluid, alluring, and as subtle as it is powerful. Scare tactics and prevention language do not change or influence behavior; if they did, we would see examples of them in sports and education, with coaches showing teams how "not to lose" and teachers showing students how "not to fail." This isn't standard in these fields; both are grounded in the sequential process of learning how to master skills, understanding how things work, and developing positive attitudes and habits that allow for positive outcomes to be repeated. Likewise, any conversation around social behavior must include those same principles.

Another problem with the rhetoric about fear is that we tell horror stories that rarely materialize. I observed this phenomenon regarding alcohol. Kids witness relatively harmless drinking at a far greater rate than they do drinking with tragic outcomes; consequently, the warnings they hear from adults don't match the reality before their eyes. And when young people see adults using and celebrating drug and alcohol use, the message becomes further compromised.

Young people will see the hollowness of adults' warnings about alcohol and drug use. Likewise, when they learn about or engage in sex and it doesn't result in pregnancy or disease, the fear invoked by those warnings about sex begins to wane in favor of the fleeting pleasure it provides.

 

GOING BEYOND THE TALK

In reality, there is no easy way to talk to children about sex. One solitary "talk" is not the answer. We must cultivate a diligent way of life that normalizes the conversation. The "talk" must actually be an ongoing conversation with children, and it can't be based in fear or judgment. We must do more than just provide information; we must also process children's feelings and expectations as well as our own. There may be right or wrong behaviors, but there are no right or wrong questions. Parents need to put their hopes of an "end goal" aside to allow children to fully process and understand a complex aspect of our humanity.

Ultimately, the decisions young people make are all their own. Parents and other adults can only strive to give children accurate and comprehensive information so they can make good decisions. The stories parents tell can't have holes or be filled with scare tactics that don't match what children have observed or will observe; otherwise the message will be compromised and children will have a reason to question this type of authority.

Children will be led into secretive behavior while they begin to think they understand. Their defenses will increase around adults because adults have taken the hard line of intolerance and fear. Communication can then break down—parents stop listening to children and the conversation becomes a one-way diatribe. Children will hide their discoveries of the world, as well as their attitudes and behaviors.

Children may also hide their knowledge of certain things out of a desire to protect adults. If adults dwell too much on the dangers of the world, children may begin to believe the adults are simply afraid and ought to be shielded. With each passing generation children are exposed to a broader, less restrictive lens on the world. Some children may assume that adults warn them because they (adults) can't handle the reality of the changing world. In other cases, adults are aware of what children are going through but lack the tools and experiences to talk honestly with them, so they resort to bribery, cajoling, and harsh zero-tolerance policies. Many more will simply accept the fact that their children are "going through a phase" that they will outgrow like a pair of sneakers. But unlike those discarded sneakers, phases have a cumulative effect and can be foundational to a person's development. Unless inaccurate and unhealthy beliefs are confronted, they can become more entrenched and the basis for toxic and destructive learned behaviors.

All of these factors place parents in a difficult position, but disregarding them can lead to serious incidents involving young people. In the aftermath, parents are in the even more difficult position of trying to explain why something terrible occurred in the first place. The most effective approach parents can take is to engage with children in a proactive, ongoing conversation that is honest, fosters two-way communication, and allows children space to fully process information. For boys, this is a pivotal time, as it is also the time when the emotional mask of masculinity hardens, and with it diminishing opportunities for meaningful conversation.

 

WHEN PERCEPTION BECOMES REALITY

When you examine how boys are learning, what they are learning becomes easier to comprehend. So many of their attitudes and beliefs are learned in unstructured ways. And since so many boys share the same inaccurate beliefs, with no credible source to disprove them, rumors and inaccuracies become true.

This dynamic applies to how boys' beliefs about gender and sexuality are formed. Because their perception becomes reality, they act out and legitimize misconceptions and fantasies, confident that they are acting appropriately. Similar to how the pornography of Emanuelle was conflated with "lovemaking," boys form other dangerous and sexist assumptions about relationships with girls. We now talk of "affirmative consent," because "no means no" was not deliberate enough and men continue to express expectations of intimacy if he pays for a meal or if she has been intimate in the past.

These misconceptions also reduce relationships and intimacy to "games," positioning girls and women as opposing figures, not partners. Intimate advancements are not viewed as an expression of mutual desire or agreed-upon exploration but a benchmark, an achieved level in the performance of masculinity. There are also times when the dangerous "lessons" from the streets are sanctioned by adults and essentially handed to children. Though dressed up as innocent fun, these lessons can perpetuate disturbing attitudes and beliefs. I remember the rumor of Spanish fly, a substance you put in a girl's drink that would make her uncontrollably promiscuous. The first time I heard of it was listening to a comedy album by Bill Cosby. He talked about being thirteen, standing on the corner with all the boys, talking about Crazy Mary, the girl in his neighborhood who was the target of the Spanish fly assault. But his story went further than being a funny routine—it revealed a common desire among many boys and men to treat a girl or woman in this disgraceful manner.

Cosby was the comedian we were allowed to listen to because he didn't curse or tell explicit jokes. He was wholesome, family-friendly fun. Sadly, and horrifically, Cosby was found guilty of three counts of aggravated indecent assault in 2018. He employed a method similar to what he described in his routine, using illegal drugs on women to render them helpless to his sexual assaults. He made the concept of Spanish fly humorous; even if we didn't fully understand then, we did learn at least that he was fine with manipulating a woman for his pleasure, and that this was accepted comedy from adults.

Although Cosby has been called a monster, customs such as "ladies' night" at bars share troubling similarities with his tactics. As a drug, alcohol lowers inhibition and is the most commonly used substance for men to facilitate the manipulation and sexual assault of women. While certain drugs (Rohypnol or GHB) are vilified as "date-rape drugs," alcohol is overwhelmingly the most commonly used drug to cloud a woman's judgment and disable her ability to deploy the preventive strategies of "the list."

Legally, in most states, intoxication cannot be used as a defense in cases of rape and sexual assault. This protects both men and women, although we generally only consider this a protection for women. Such laws are written based on what we know from history and experience, and also influence how we understand the impact of alcohol on sexual "consent." Still we see promotions such as ladies' nights, which in my opinion should be illegal. The purpose of providing alcohol for free or at a reduced cost to women is to attract women to a bar, but it also encourages unrestrained consumption. Bar owners do this knowing men will follow behind, in search of large crowds of intoxicated women. But feeling they must "catch up" to their counterparts, men drink aggressively, allowing the bar owner to recoup the loss from comping drinks to women. The strategy makes for a lucrative evening for the bar owner but potentially a dangerous one for both women and men.

The situations that I've described here that involve illegal behavior, or are at least rooted in nefarious intent, can feel much like my trip to see Emanuelle—sanctioned by peers and taking place in a safe, familiar environment. Participants might feel only slightly deviant because they lack a true apprehension of what's going on. College men, in particular, are vulnerable to this scenario. In an environment free of many restraints and that presumably offers them license to demonstrate their learned version of sexual intimacy, these men can become both perpetrator and victim. They grasp the expectation of their performance, but not the reality of their behavior . . . or its legal implications. Unfortunately, too often it is only in the aftermath of a sexual assault involving alcohol that we finally engage men in a sober conversation about sexual behavior and intimacy. But this is also when men become defensive, blaming women or alcohol as a way to deny their own culpability.

 

THE TALK IS TOO LATE

The one topic we all have in common is the most difficult to discuss. Why is any public discussion of sexual behavior immediately considered to be inappropriate, racy, or deviant? And what is the impact on our children's understanding of sex and intimacy when it's exclusively used with base and dirty language, or to shock or degrade? What is the impact of this approach on young people trying to develop healthy understandings and behaviors? There is also the problem of "prevention language," which I mentioned earlier. Because of the focus on the negative consequences of irresponsible sexual behavior, open discussion of sexual behavior frequently comes in the form of warnings. Even when we do choose to discuss an issue, there remain tremendous flaws in the ways they are addressed. We often choose to address symptoms of the problem, such as alcohol, or simply remain silent.

For the record, I'm not endorsing a curriculum that teaches the use of contraception and "safe sex." My view is much more radical and offensive. I think we need to be telling kids about their bodies so they can understand themselves as sexual beings. The binary choice we've made of telling them to have safe sex or ignoring it completely is not the answer. The more information they receive, the better decisions they can and will make.

During the 1980s, a concerted social movement to address drunk driving introduced the idea of a "designated driver." Today, the makers of alcoholic beverages continue to preach the need to designate a driver. While one person chooses not to drink, the passengers are afforded unbridled permission to drink to excess. While the number of drunk drivers on the road may have been reduced, the problem of alcoholism and the litany of other alcohol-related problems continue. Similarly, the answer to dealing with teen pregnancy and STIs is not condoms and/or abstinence. To be absolutely certain, abstinence is the only true way to prevent the onslaught of problems associated with sexual behavior; however, I do not think it's realistic in our culture. We cannot expect our children to practice abstinence and allow the advertising and entertainment industries to continue to use hypersexualized images, innuendoes, and themes without bearing some responsibility in this discussion.

 

READY OR NOT . . .

At a dinner party recently, I overheard a friend share a story about how she happened upon her five-year-old son playing with his erection. It was the first time she "caught him in the act." She was talking with a group of friends, all of whom were young moms. Being within earshot, I leaned in, curious to hear their discussion. They all knew her son and I sensed their empathy, as she was describing a boy who had clearly just discovered something of which he had very little understanding. She went on to say how she tried to ignore it so he would not be embarrassed. Doing my best not to get clinical, I suggested that next time, she give him a sippy cup of juice and ask him if he was having fun with his new "activity." Walking the line between friend and educator, I left it at that. But stepping away I thought, He has nothing to be embarrassed about. He is a child who was innocently learning about his own body. She was projecting her "shame" on him.

Moments later, I came across the boy's dad. He is a close friend and I could not resist broaching the subject. With a smile, I said, "Hey, I heard little Mike got his first hard-on." A proud smile came upon my friend's face as he proclaimed, "Yeah, that's my boy." We shared a sophomoric high five and exchanged a few jokes exaggerating the size of his genitalia—the thing men do to laugh through our insecurities. It was a good laugh until I asked what he said to little Mike. He became austere and said, "He's not ready for that." My demeanor became equally as stern, as I realized I had to step over the prohibitive line of friend and speak as an educator. I told him little Mike may not be ready for the conversation about why his penis gets erect, but he was certainly ready to hear that an erect penis is normal and okay. And it's critically important that he hear that from his dad.

Both parents responded to an innocent moment with conditioned, narrow thinking about the physical nature of humans and the way in which boys and men are taught to understand themselves sexually. The mother was embarrassed for her son and the father failed to recognize and seize the opportunity to teach his boy a healthy lesson about his body. Both parents missed a chance to establish a fundamental level of communication and start a sustained conversation that would strengthen their son's self-esteem as well as their relationship with him.

The fact is, his body was responding to something; he should understand that and know that it is perfectly normal. Clearly, a five-year-old is probably not ready to talk about reproduction. But he is ready to understand how his body works. However, many adults are so bound by a shame tracing back to how they were socialized to understand their own bodies that they are unable to give their children the information they need. Their continued silence limits boys' ability to see themselves as beautiful beings worthy of physical love.

If nothing is said, and there is no explanation given, the boy's penis will seem to be responding independent of his control. Little Mike's erection becomes the thing that happens to his body, not a natural function of it. It marks the beginning of the notion of the "little head" that seemingly has a mind of its own, and the beginning of the emotional disconnect a boy will have with his body. Later he will learn to understand that sexual acts are what he does to girls and that he carries them out with the object that is his body, devoid of any emotional engagement and accountability. The violent language he uses to describe sex ("hit it," "bang it," "smash") only makes sense if he sees himself as the object—that tool used to hit, bang, or smash.

You may say that I am making too much of a young boy innocently playing with his erect penis. But this is merely one part of a much broader socializing process. How a boy understands and loves his own body is the measure by which he can and will extend love and care to another. Understanding and openly talking about this aspect of human sexuality has been one of those issues men have avoided. In 1994, when Surgeon General Joycelyn Elders suggested that the subject of masturbation should be covered as part of comprehensive sex education for elementary school children, she was forced by President Bill Clinton to resign amid pressure from his administration. Elder was not encouraging debauchery but advocating for healthy sexual behavior. In response, the largely male Congress literally made a federal case out of masturbation.

A responsible adult culture should always try to make the world better for the next generation. We cannot expect this to happen by withholding information and being silent, especially about the essential things that make us human. We can't have an intelligent conversation about sexual violence until we're ready to acknowledge that we are sexual beings who need and crave physical affection.

 

THE PARENT DILEMMA

When a friend told me her ten-year-old son and his friends searched the word "sex" on an iPad, my first thought was, They're two years younger than I was when my curiosity took me a few miles away on foot. Her son and his friends are good boys and their curiosity was no different than mine. But unlike my trek to the theater, these boys were in the same room where their parents lulled them to sleep reading Goodnight Moon. And, when they did an Internet search for "sex," the Italian sexploitation/drama film Emanuelle in Bangkok is surely not what they found. The pornography is commercial, hard-core, and quite disturbing. Certainly, the boys knew that what they were doing would not meet the approval of their parents. They understood the risk of being caught but their curiosity and desire for truth was more compelling.

Naturally, my friend was quite upset to imagine her son being exposed to such pornography. However, what was more upsetting was the idea that he didn't feel comfortable talking with her. As she processed this with her son, she learned that the other boys had been punished by their parents; their devices had been taken away and limits were placed on their time with technology. This, I thought, was the more predictable and likely response, and the most troubling.

This response creates shame in the boy and shuts down any possibility of conversations in the immediate future, if not forever, about what he is feeling, concerned with, thinking about, or, more urgently, experiencing. Second, it suggests he has done something wrong and that his curiosity is dirty and shameful, and that sex is inherently bad. Ironically, those same parents, like many, allow countless hours of video games, movies, and television where boys witness graphic, senseless, and incessant violence of every conceivable form. The dissonance and hypocrisy is staggering. Intimacy and our natural bodies are deemed indecent and inappropriate. Yet purposeful and even gratuitous violence is perfectly okay and even shared with children as entertainment and fun.

Not all parents have acquiesced to this unsettling reality. However, there really is no avoiding this cultural dilemma. A few years ago, another friend told me about a conversation he had with his nine-year-old son and his friends. He overheard the young boys discussing a Hollywood actor and commenting that they didn't like him because, it was rumored, he was bisexual. When my friend intervened and asked the boys if they knew what that meant (assuming they had simply heard the term and didn't really know), they replied that the actor likes girls and boys. He was stunned. His amazement that nine-year-olds were discussing bisexuality was replaced with anger that this was reason enough to dislike someone. Adding to my friend's dismay was the fact that he had moved his family to a relatively small town to avoid a culture that required kids to grow up "too fast" and deal with complex social issues at early ages. He was in no way ready or prepared to discuss bisexuality with his son. He hadn't even generally discussed heterosexuality and sex with him.

 

THE AMERICAN FAMILY CHALLENGED

Writing about family and parental responses always brings me back to simpler times when my siblings and I lived twenty miles from New York City and our parents didn't have to worry about the negative influences outside our door. We spent hours playing games, only stopping because it got dark or the kid who owned the ball had to go home. When dinner was over (yes, we had dinner together), we would do homework, read, or play board games. During the summer, we would occasionally be allowed back outside to play backgammon under the streetlights.

Although my childhood was a few generations ago, it was half a world away. Children and parents today face a bombardment from the media and entertainment worlds that has helped distort social norms and led to a decline in decent behavior. Today's children are growing up in a culture that is dramatically more permissive than the one in which their parents were raised. And they are exposed to exponentially more representations of masculinity and more information about sex, with less parental intervention. While I learned about sex literally on the streets, kids today don't even need to leave the house. They are also exposed at much earlier ages and, in many cases, it's happening right under the noses of their parents.

The crucial question we must ask is, what do we want for our boys? Our cultural silence has made them more vulnerable and renders them defenseless against the onslaught of messages they receive through mass media. And there is almost no way to avoid this reality.