One thing I do believe is that sexual education has made leaps of progress over the generations. In my mother’s generation, discussing safe sex and pregnancy prevention was more of a hushed taboo than it is now. Whereas men in general avoided the topic and allowed women to deal with their own contraception, partners today are more cooperative with one another about what contraception is best for them. It’s been proven as well: the rate of teenage pregnancies has dropped drastically due to increased contraception education amongst males and females ​(PEW Research Center).
However, I had a discussion the other day with a guy I was involved with, no labels — and it left me feeling uneasy. At one moment, it was a cooperative conversation with him about birth control, and about what contraception would be best for us if we decided to become intimate. Then, out of nowhere, his tone became condescending once he started questioning my own knowledge about birth control. Upon telling him I was getting my new birth control soon, he followed it by confidently telling me the inaccurate statistic that the pill is only 80% effective. Correction: it’s 99.9% effective when taken correctly.
I proceeded to tell him I was planning to get Nexplanon, the upper-arm implant that lasts 3+ years and is also 99.9% effective.Â
His thought on the long-lasting birth control was that I did not want it for its effectiveness, but for its convenience for when I was “sleeping with a whole bunch of guys” through the rest of my college career (cue my pause where I realize this was a subtle slut-shame).
When I followed it with my reasoning of just wanting to be prepared for whatever happens, whether or not it was with him, his response felt less educational and supportive and more patronizing. He continued to lecture me about my own sex life, STDs, and condoms, as if I was inept of knowing how to properly prevent the STDs I’d potentially be exposed to in my upcoming college years.Â
As much as I appreciated that he checked in with me about what is the safest way to have sex, I was not deserving of the condescending tone that came with his comments.Â
He tried to turn my use of birth control against me as a form of shaming; it became less about my sexual freedom to plan out my own contraception routine, and more of an opportunity for him to bombard me with his subtle slut-shaming comments. I felt like I had to defend my own knowledge about my body and what was best for it, in addition to what I had already learned about contraception. I felt the need to prove to him that I knew how to keep myself free from STDs, even with his insinuation that I would be careless enough to sleep around with just anyone without being safe.
I wish I told him not to question my judgement about what is best for my body, and for him to not use our conversation as a way to prove his seemingly “vast” knowledge of contraceptives. I see the social progress in the fact that these conversations are happening amongst intimate couples, but the discussion about birth control should remain supportive and cooperative, not a chance to shun a woman’s sexuality or doubt her knowledge of it.
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