Beyond Inclusion: Why Black Girls Need Culturally Relevant Sexual Education
Do you remember your first experiences with sexual education? What was discussed? What wasn’t addressed? Do you think it equipped you with the knowledge necessary to have a healthy and fulfilling sex life? If your experiences with sex education were anything like mine, they were likely shaped by harmful cultural narratives that fail to empower students with the knowledge and resources essential to maintain their sexual health. As I reflect on my own experiences with sexual education, I have come to realize that sex ed must be culturally relevant and account for the sociohistorical factors that impact Black women’s relationship with sex, pleasure, and autonomy to truly be beneficial.
In the United States, there are two dominant models of sexual education–abstinence-only and comprehensive. While there are various strategies and curriculum for each of these approaches, broadly speaking, abstinence refers to teaching students that there is a moral imperative compelling them to refrain from sexual activities. This is typically reinforced by centering the negative consequences of sex. Comprehensive sex education, on the other hand, is not only medically accurate, but often involves a broad range of topics beyond sex, including sexuality, relationships and reproductive health, among others. As of November 2024, forty-two states require abstinence to be covered and there are only ten states that require information to be both medically accurate and inclusive of various gender and sexual identities. Although comprehensive sex education is increasingly advocated for as a best practice, there remains a gap in sex education – the absence of culturally relevant sex education.
Today, the World Health Organization (WHO) defines sexual health as requiring a “positive and respectful approach to sexuality and sexual relationships, as well as the possibility of having pleasurable and safe sexual experiences, free of coercion, discrimination and violence.” Although the WHO expands beyond an abstinence-based framework and integrates pleasure into our understanding of sexual health, the organization’s definition fails to account for the harmful origins of sexual education as well as how the social identities of youth might shape their unique needs.
Born out of the eugenics and social hygiene movements, sex education was created in the early 20th century to control and criticize the sexual and reproductive practices of racialized communities. The curriculum was meant to condemn “immoral” sexual practices that did not fit into Judeo-Christian standards of purity. Social hygienists who created sex education believed that only people who understood that “promiscuous sex” was bad deserved to reproduce, resulting in white men initially being the primary audience of sex ed with very little effort being put into the sex education of Black communities. However, in the 90s and 2000s, government officials felt the need to condemn and neutralize the “welfare queen,” or a low-income Black woman who has many kinds in order to take advantage of financial government assistance programs. They decided to do this by investing in abstinence-only programs that taught society, but especially Black girls in low-income communities, that engaging in sexual activities prior to marriage was immoral.
Once sexual education became more widely available to Black communities, they were targets of abstinence-only sex education, which is proven to be ineffective at preventing poor sexual health outcomes. Abstinence-only education was deemed appropriate for Black communities because Black people, and Black women in particular, were considered the epitome of sexual deviancy. This history set the foundation for modern sexual education policies that tend to police and shame Black women’s use of their sexual autonomy and agency.
When we examine the sexual health outcomes of Black women today, the consequences of this history and the contemporary model of sex education it facilitated becomes even more clear. According to the Kaiser Family Foundation (KFF), in 2022, Black women made up 50% of new HIV diagnoses among women while only making up 13% of the U.S. female population. Furthermore, Black women experience higher rates of sexual violence, with 35% of Black women experiencing it in their lifetime and 40-60% of Black women reporting experiences of sexual coercion by age 18. These outcomes could be drastically different if sex education was more expansive– and, of course, was paired alongside other equitable institutions that provide women with tangible resources. By throwing out the “one size fits all” approach and acknowledging the specific and unique issues that Black women face due to societal stigma, culturally relevant sex education can begin to equip Black girls and women with the tools needed to maintain a healthy relationship with sex and their sexuality.
Importantly, Black women and girls’ negative sexual health outcomes are not just a result of poor sexual education but larger societal narratives that objectify and devalue the needs of Black women and girls, including hypersexualization and adultification. Hypersexualization refers to ideals, norms, and actions that equate Black women to being sexual objects. This stereotype dates back to enslavement when Black women were seen as “Jezebels” – promiscuous temptresses that are inviolable– unable to be sexually violated because their bodies did not belong to them and were therefore deserving of being sexually violated.
Relatedly, adultification describes the social tendency to perceive Black girls as older and more mature than they actually are. A 2017 Georgetown Law Study found that adults perceive Black girls, especially those ages 10-14, as needing less protection and nurturance. When hypersexualization and adultification interact, Black girls are labeled as “fast,” a term that punishes Black girls for expressing developmentally appropriate sexual interest and experiencing puberty, perhaps precociously. As a child, I remember being told that I couldn’t wear red nail polish because it was too “grown,” or I’d be called “fast” for wearing a shirt that showed the tiniest bit of my stomach. My own anecdotal experience, compounded with the research I have outlined, leads me to believe that a major barrier to Black girls receiving proper sexual education is other’s assumption that they either need to prevent Black girls from giving into their so-called provocative ways or that Black girls already engaging in promiscuous/sexual acts and therefore “know better.”
For sex education to be effective, the curriculum must directly confront the systems of harm Black girls face, namely adultification and hypersexualization. Community-led alternative spaces must be created for Black girls and women so they can receive affirming, expansive sex education rooted in their lived experiences. Sex education should not only provide information about risk prevention (STDs and unplanned pregnancies) but also include discussions about enthusiastic consent and pleasure. Without a holistic, culturally relevant, and historically grounded approach to sex education, Black women and girls are left vulnerable to misinformation leading to poor sexual health outcomes, including sexual violence, unsatisfying sex, and contracting sexually transmitted diseases (STDs). When our sexualities are shrouded in potential health concerns and/or social stigma, it prevents us from exploring and enjoying our sexual selves. By creating community-based sexual education that is attentive to the unique needs of Black girls and women, we can change the tide.
Bio: Angel W. is a trailblazing first-generation student at Spelman College, majoring in Comparative Women’s Studies with a unique concentration in Pleasure Activism and a minor …
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