8 Rules My Parents Had That Made Me Comfortable With My Sexuality

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8 Rules My Parents Had That Made Me Comfortable With Sex

I was fortunate to grow up in a fairly sex-positive household. But this doesn't mean anything inappropriate happened, like, ever. Remember, sex-positive doesn't mean sex-fiend, and sex-positivity doesn't connote constantly being exposed (or exposing others) to sexual things. 

I don't know, in retrospect, that my parents would necessarily identify with the label of being sex-positive, but I'm running with it anyway.

Here's why I think my upbringing was sex-positive and how my parents made me comfortable with my sexuality:

1. We established that bodies were normal and natural. Nudity wasn't shamed in our household, though once my sister and I grew out of being cute toddlers it became less of a clothing-optional thing.

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2. Bodily functions were also normal and natural. We learned early on about periods because we were curious about what was going on with our mom.

3. Reading wasn't censored. I found a "where babies come from" book when I was pretty young (I was an advanced reader from an early age) and my parents didn't freak out. Instead, they made sure to talk to me about it.

4. We watched things together as a family. We didn't consume tons of movies, TV, or video games, but we did watch a lot of things together, even some R-rated things (mostly foreign films). I remember my mom saying, "I'd rather you see sex than violence in movies; sex at least is natural and creative, whereas violence is destructive." And given that the film Willow scared me a ton when I saw it in theaters, I was happy to follow that directive.

5. We didn't belong to a religious organization that shamed sexuality or promoted intolerance. My upbringing was mostly in a secular Jewish context, with more emphasis on family gatherings and food than dogma.

6. Other sexualities were accepted. There were some non-straight people in our lives, but my parents didn't act like we needed to be protected from them. Some of our relatives lived together in domestic units without being married. I once asked my mom what she'd do if I wanted to date women, and she replied that she'd love me all the same.

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7. Our consent was respected. Yes, we had to do things we didn't want to, like chores, homework, piano practice, and not bringing books to the dinner table, but we were never forced to hug relatives or be in uncomfortable proximity to people we didn't like or know.

Bodily autonomy is an important lesson for children to learn, as it establishes a precedent for them as adults. Sexual violence was never dismissed, normalized or made light of. It wasn't a joking matter. Rape culture is damn insidious, but it didn't have a huge foothold in our home.

8. Gender roles weren't emphasized as the determinants of our worth. Sure, my mom did the bulk of the cooking, but she was good at it (dinner with Dad meant going out or reheating leftovers). I was equally encouraged to play sports, compete on the Academic Decathlon team and take belly dance classes.

I'm sure there are other ways in which my upbringing was sex-positive, but these are the ones that stand out. Every family is different, with their family folklore and customs both expressing and reinforcing their values.

There are lots of ways that sex-positivity can look in the context of a family raising kids; I'm not trying to promote my own experience as normative or ideal for anyone but me.

My sex-positive upbringing prepared me for life as an adult in many ways.

I didn't grow up with a sense of shame around my body — having a period, masturbating, being a woman, eventually wanting to become sexually active with others. 

I didn't feel like sexual desire was dirty; I felt assured that my parents would love me no matter what my sexuality turned out to be (or my career or the rest of my life), and I carry that confidence and self-worth forward into all my relationships. 

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I feel comfortable expressing myself in different gender roles, though I gravitate toward conventional femininity in many ways (and I acknowledge that being cis-gender comes with bunches of privilege). 

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I had a working model for common-sense feminism early on; we weren't necessarily debating gender performativity at the dinner table, but I saw my parents both conform to and rebel against gender norms in the various choices they made, while figuring out how best to nurture me and my sister.

Reading the above paragraphs, it doesn't seem like these experiences should be unique or revolutionary. But in our sex-phobic culture, they are. 

I meet so many people who grew up feeling shame about their bodies and sexuality. I meet people who were conditioned to feel dirty when they masturbated, or inadequate because of how their bodies look, or sinful because of who they're attracted to.

This is a major reason I'm a sex educator: because if attitudes about sex can be learned, they can also be unlearned.

I was fortunate enough to have a sex-positive upbringing, and I know firsthand the confidence and security in oneself that feeling OK about your body and sexuality can bring about.

I want to help others manifest similar sex-positive attitudes, to learn what sex positivity means to them and make it happen in their lives. That's why I do the destigmatizing work that I do around sexuality in my writing and teaching, and that's why I facilitate spaces like Sex Geekdom, where people can have meaningful conversations around sex, gender, relationships and so on.

If you didn't get these things early in life, you can make up for lost time ... and I'm on board with helping.

Dr. Jeana Jorgenson is a sex educator, scholar, and writer with a passion for relationship communication, narrative models of gender and sexuality, and alternative sexuality communities.

This article was originally published at drjeana. Reprinted with permission from the author.