Author Archives: Carrie Hillman

About Carrie Hillman

Carrie Hillman is Curiata.com's resident feminist. She writes the weekly feature A Feminist Sensibility and serves as Managing Editor for the publication. She is married to fellow contributor and editor Mike, and they live in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, with their dog, Beaker.

This poster offends the sensibilities of a Kansas father.

Sex ed debate requires cool heads

Leave a reply

The debate about sexual education in public schools is flaring once again, this time in Kansas, where a father is upset by an “X-rated sex ed poster” at his daughter’s middle school. Much to my chagrin, the poster contains no titillating images of sex acts in progress, and is instead an 8.5-x-11-inch sheet of paper posing the question, “How do people express their sexual feelings?” and giving examples ranging from hugging and hand-holding to vaginal intercourse and anal sex.

The outraged father contacted his local Fox News affiliate, and the story has now received national attention, including a CNN interview with him. It is understandable that, like most fathers, he is upset by thoughts of his 13-year-old daughter being exposed to sex. However, this information is pertinent to her reproductive health, and I would be willing to bet it is not the first time she has come across these words.

The reality is that we live in a country where 1 in 200 mothers insist they had a virgin birth. Researchers found the parents of these women had difficulty discussing sex or birth control with their children. It is not a coincidence that schools with comprehensive sex ed curricula have seen teen pregnancy rates decrease. Even if teens cannot get facts about sex at home, they are now being armed with information early on about how best to protect themselves from unwanted pregnancy and sexually transmitted infections.

If the age of 13 is “too young” to be talking about such things as vaginal intercourse, when is the right time? Technically speaking, any female who is ovulating could become pregnant. It is not unusual for menstruation to begin in girls as young as eight. Ignoring the hormones and primal instincts in their bodies doesn’t make those feelings go away.

This Kansas school has what is called an “abstinence plus” education plan, which basically tells students: the only sure way to prevent pregnancy and STIs is to abstain from sexual activity, but if you are planning to engage (or are already engaging) in sexual activity, here’s what you need to know to protect yourself.

This is the system I was exposed to in my public school. I vividly remember being in third grade when all of the boys were sent to a different classroom. (I thought it was extremely unfair at the time that the boys got to watch a rerun of Bill Nye the Science Guy, while I was forced to sit through a video explaining my alien-like reproductive organs and how they work.)

I am now in my mid-to-late 20s and do not have children. Some may say that not being a parent invalidates my opinion on the subject, but I will remind the critics that I, too, have parents. My mother and father worked hard to ensure I always felt comfortable asking them questions about sex. In fact, I came home at the tender age of 9 and blatantly asked my parents: “What’s an orgasm?” after hearing some older kids talking about it on the bus. Instead of deciding I was “too young” for such a concept, my parents and I had a frank discussion about sex.

While I personally didn’t engage in sexual activity in middle or high school, a lot of the girls around me did. Often, these girls would look to their peers for advice; unfortunately, peer advice in this situation is a little like the blind leading the blind. In fact, I only know of one girl who asked her mother for guidance. That mother promptly sought to put her daughter on the birth control pill and instructed her in proper condom use (you go girl!).

When it comes to sex and teen girls, a lot of individuals (myself included), have a very knee-jerk reaction. After we take some time and a step back for some perspective, we realize that by the age of 13, these kids have already seen, heard, and had in-depth discussions with their peers about the words displayed on this piece of paper. In reality, by 13, the school is probably a little too late to start discussing these concepts.

The father in Kansas is well within his rights to pull his child out of public school and send her to a private school that would align more with his religious and moral beliefs. However, all of my friends who attended private, religious schools ensure me there were still instances of teen pregnancies in those schools — perhaps they were part of the virgin births sweeping the nation?

The bottom line: teens have had sex in the past and they will continue to do so in the future. All we can do as a society is ensure they have the tools at their disposal to be as safe as possible if and when they decide to become sexually active.

knitting-yarns

Knitting Yarns, knitting roots

The book Knitting Yarns: Writers on Knitting by Ann Hood was added to my wishlist as soon as it popped up on one of my Amazon searches. Thankfully, my Godmother checks my wishlist every year before Christmas and this little gem found it’s way into my home.

Knitting Yarns has about 25 short stories that detail the author’s memories or connections with knitting. As with most short story formats, the book is extremely digestible. Most of the writers focused on how or why they learned to knit, or a time when knitting helped them through a personal crisis. I finished the book in about three days of leisurely reading and I would highly recommend this book for anyone who enjoys knitting and reading.

Knitting Yarns also had me thinking back on the very first time I learned to knit. I remember it quite vividly. I was in college, sitting on the floor of my dorm room with the yarn in my lap and the printout “Learn to Knit 101” instructions on the ground in front of me. I sat cross-legged, bent over my needles, and squinted to decipher the drawings representing how a knit stitch should be properly executed. My hands were starting to sweat, not out of nerves or frustration, but rather the fact that my university kept the dorm room at a temperature mirroring the weather of the Hawaiian tropics instead of the northern Pennsylvania climate where we were located.

About 30 minutes in, my roommate had given up and moved to her desk to do homework or peruse Facebook. I still remained on the hard, concrete floor, determined to make progress on my first row. I gave it another 20 minutes, and I was suddenly overcome with an extreme amount of rage and I hurled my purple aluminum knitting needles across the room. What happened next is proof enough for me that the universe certainly does have a sense of humor.

A male friend of mine, Carl, was walking by my dorm room when I broke into my fit of rage. Since the door was hanging open, he stopped to ask me if everything was all right and if there was anything he could do to help. I explained that I was trying to learn how to knit, but after 50 minutes of determination, I had gotten very skilled at casting on, but I couldn’t seem to make the jump to knitting. Carl smiled and said, “Oh. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that the first row is always the hardest?” He picked up my needles and handed them to me and said, “Cast on however many stitches you want, and I’ll do your first row. You can watch me.”

I took the needles out of his hand and cast on 20 stitches of red and black yarn. I then watched Carl knit my first row with extreme ease and grace. He handed the needles to me and said, “Here you go. It’s your turn.” I took the needles from him and clumsily knit the next row. Despite my fumbling, awkward handiwork, I was enchanted and encouraged by my skill. After I completed the second row by myself, Carl headed out to go to a party. The training wheels were off and I was on my own. Over the course of the next week, I knit every chance I got. I added stitches, I decreased stitches, I dropped stitches, but I kept going. After one week, I had my very first scarf which I proceeded to wear everywhere I went.

I just found my first scarf the other week when I was cleaning out my knitting stash. I pulled it out and looked at the wonky size and the holes that the dropped stitches created. Then I looked down at the handmade sweater I was wearing. It was remarkable how far I had come in 8 years. I refolded the scarf and tucked it into a basket. Now, when I’m working on a project that is complicated and I’m ready to throw my needles across the room, I will pull out that first scarf and remember the improvement I know I am capable of.