May 6, 2012 |
Photo Credit: Pink Sherbet Photography
Imagine a high school teacher having to separate a
smooching pair outside the classroom door to protect herself from being
sued for condoning “gateway sexual activity.” Envision a sex education
class where the mention of homosexuality is forbidden by law and
discussion of contraception, or even puberty, is deemed unnecessary.
That’s the world that would be created by a recent raft of abstinence
education bills in Tennessee, Utah and Wisconsin. These initiatives are
frightening — but, viewed the right way, they shine light on extreme
conservatives’ deepest, darkest fears about sex. They’re veritable
inkblot tests for right-wing sexual pathos.
This week saw the passage of a
Tennessee bill that
has the usual aim of abstinence initiatives — to “exclusively and
emphatically” promote abstinence until marriage. But the bill ultimately
goes above and beyond the usual. It allows parents to seek damages in
court if a teacher “promotes gateway sexual activity” to their child.
It’s unclear what exactly “gateway sexual activity” is because the
measure defines it vaguely as “sexual contact encouraging an individual
to engage in a non-abstinent behavior.” Critics of the bill have
suggested that this could include everything from hand holding to french
kissing. The bill also proscribes “implicitly” promoting or “condoning”
gateway sexual activity (the latter could mean simply turning a blind
eye to it, hence the example above).
The potential legal implications here are what’s most important, but
understanding the philosophy behind this view of “gateway” sexual
activity is crucial, too. The thinking here is transparent: Premarital
or extramarital sex, even physical affection, is like a drug —
all-consuming, addictive and life-destroying. Sen. Margaret Dayton, a
co-sponsor of the bill, actually said, as the
Salt Lake Tribune paraphrased,
“Teaching children about contraception is comparable to telling kids
not to do drugs, then showing them how to ‘mainline’ heroin.” Here we
have that fundamental fear of sex, of the power it holds over us, and of
the possibility of losing ourselves (or our kids) to it.
Shortly before the “gateway” bill, Tennessee lawmakers advanced
Senate Bill 49,
dubbed the “Don’t Say Gay Bill,” which stipulated that “no public
elementary or middle school shall provide any instruction or material
that discusses sexual orientation other than heterosexuality.” The
measure managed to get Senate approval but, after intense public and
legislative outcry, it was yanked by one of its sponsors before it faced
a final vote in the House. An
abstinence bill in
Utah, which breezed through the state legislature but was ultimately
vetoed last month by the governor, similarly banned any discussion of
the gays.
Wisconsin’s abstinence bill doesn’t prohibit the mention of
homosexuality, but it does overwrite a current law requiring that
teachers “use instructional methods and materials that do not promote
bias against pupils of any race, gender, religion, sexual orientation,
or ethnic or cultural background.”
Here we have that classic conservative view of homosexuality as a
corruptive idea rather than an inherent identity; as a social virus —
one that can be inoculated against through silence (or, as some of us
might prefer to call it, censorship) — rather than an inborn reality.
(What always strikes me about this attitude is that it seems implicitly
to hold that gay sex is so
awesome that just hearing about it
will make folks want to try it; otherwise, it wouldn’t pose such a
threat, now, would it?) It also gets at that right-wing sore spot: The
possibility of sex for love or pleasure, rather than procreation.
Of course, homosexuality is far from the only thing that treads in
this forbidden territory. The Utah bill forbids any “human sexuality
instruction” from covering contraception, premarital sex or “the
intricacies of intercourse, sexual stimulation, or erotic behavior.”
(The ultimate effect of the extreme restrictions is a ban on human
sexuality classes. Either teach anti-gay, anti-contraception,
abstinence-only “human sexuality,” or teach nothing at all.)
Contraception helps reduce the negative consequences for engaging in
pleasure- or love-based premarital sex — and abstinence-only advocates
desperately want to keep the sexual stakes high. (For the same reason we
see attempts to restrict access to contraception and HPV vaccines.)
Speaking of negative consequences, the Utah and Wisconsin bills share
a focus on STIs and unwanted pregnancy as the inevitable result of
premarital sex. The Utah measure requires that human sexuality classes
underscore “the importance of abstinence from all sexual activity before
marriage and fidelity after marriage as the only sure methods for
preventing certain communicable diseases.” The Wisconsin initiative
mandates that human sexuality classes “promote abstinence and marriage
over contraception” and “emphasize that abstinence is the only reliable
way to prevent pregnancy and avoid sexually transmitted infections”
(which is patently false).
Even the acknowledgement of hormonal changes and natural urges is
dangerous. Earlier this month, Wisconsin Gov. Scott Walker signed into
law
a bill that
removed not only contraceptives but also puberty — puberty! — from the
list of required topics in sex-ed classes. The concept of puberty itself
makes natural what abstinence-only advocates desperately want to seem
unnatural.
More relatable is the concern guiding the push for greater parental
power in some of these bills. The Utah measure requires that guardians
make up the majority of review committees for human sexuality curricula
and that they be allowed to participate in the development of
abstinence-only classes. This year, Arizona introduced
a bill that
requires schools to obtain written permission from parents in order to
teach any form of sex ed and secures parents’ rights to opt out on
behalf of their kids. Adults are desperate enough to control sex in
their
own lives — from the content of their, or their
spouse’s, fantasies to the threat of infidelity. And, of course, there’s
that universal desire to protect our kids from the dangers of the world
(and you don’t have to be a right-winger to believe that sex can be
dangerous)
Together, these recent bills make clear several fundamental fears —
of the power of sex, of losing control of our kids and of the allure of
non-procreative sex without consequences. Aside from their magnitude,
those worries aren’t a uniquely right-wing phenomena. What is uniquely
right-wing is taking such extreme attempts to legislate against those
fears.
Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter.
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