The sad state of BC knowledge amongst America’s boys

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As I mentioned briefly in an earlier post, women are raised to be sheepish when talking about their periods.  Magazines for teenagers abound with embarrassing and elaborate stories about catastrophes involving white shorts (I thought they were all urban legends, but a first period/white shorts nightmare actually happened to a good friend of mine, whose life closely resembles that of fictional Disney tween character Lizzie McGuire).  We are taught that our own reproductive cycles are gross, painful, and something to keep hidden from boys at all times.

So is it really any wonder that boys don’t know the first thing about contraception?  In the hilariously titled article Rubber Barons, Amanda Hess explores this question.  She reports a staggering lack of knowledge on the part of young men:

Twenty-eight percent of young men think that wearing two condoms at a time is more effective than just one. Twenty-five percent think that women can prevent pregnancy by douching after sex. Eighteen percent believe that they can reduce the chance of pregnancy by doing it standing up.

Seriously?  Standing up?  These are the same dudes who try to tell you that it’s impossible to get pregnant if you do it in a pool (although I’ve never met a woman who has actually found herself in that scenario).  While this is incredibly sad, and arguably irresponsible on the boys’ part, it’s not entirely their fault.  As Hess points out, women have to learn about this stuff– we have to be responsible for our own reproductive health.  Yet the same study that brought us the numbers about the do-it-standing-up boys shows that 63% of young adults surveyed (both male and female) say they know “little or nothing” about BC pills.  In a culture that conditions girls to be hush-hush about their own bodies, how are boys ever supposed to learn?

Here’s how: girls and women can start talking– to boys, and to each other.  A few years ago, when I first went on oral contraceptives, I was given plenty of anecdotal warnings about gaining weight and getting bigger boobs.  The shape of my body stayed the same, but I almost immediately noticed emotional changes.  After a year of unpredictable mood swings and inexplicable depression, I finally started googling.  I found out about the extremely common emotional side effects of the Pill, which for some reason rarely get talked about.  It’s easier to just opt for a “Women Be Crazy!” attitude rather than acknowledging that a drug that four out of five of women are taking has serious mind-altering side effects.  I wish I hadn’t felt too self-conscious to ask someone about it sooner.  Needless to say, I tell other women about my experience.  I tell men, too.

As Hess’s article illustrates, most of men’s adult education on women’s reproduction comes from their girlfriends.  This is a step in the right direction, but girls shouldn’t wait until their Nuvaring falls out during sex to explain their bodies and their contraceptive choices to their boyfriends.  And as much as I love Clueless, we shouldn’t just use euphemisms like “surfing the crimson tide.”  Limiting this discussion to code words in the bedroom is the same behavior that’s going to keep boys in the dark, and girls writing anonymously to the “Say Anything” sections of tween magazines.  After all, straight boys are attracted to girls bodies, so let them learn about them.  And let the girls learn that those bodies are nothing to be sheepish about.