Sex and Romance Education

Last post suggested a crazy idea.

Put women in charge of all sex and health education.

The biggest advantage to this would be that male teachers would no longer be able to pass on their own misconceptions about what women really want.

This also presents us with another great opportunity.

A lot of women appreciate romance.  They appreciate respect.  They deserve tenderness, physically, emotionally.

Those things aren’t being taught in class.

Why not?

It’s the perfect time.  Want to spend time with a new friend of the OPPOSITE sex?  Class giggles.

Here’s how you do it.  Be polite.  Act with courtesy both ways.  Don’t touch unless you’re invited.  No means no, always.  Even when you’re married for 40 years.

No money?  This is what you do.  Lots of money?  Then do these other things.

Is the class advanced enough?  Then go ahead and teach them “advanced” techniques.  After all, that’s what school is for.  And if they don’t learn it in a safe classroom where they can get it right, what’s left?

There’s always that street corner, or that back seat late at night.  And the internet, all by themselves.

 

Sex and Health Education

Inventing can be a messy process.  Once crazy idea can lead to another, and that eventually leads to something that makes sense.  Here’s a recent example.

For instance, there was a story about a young woman who jettisoned her fiance.  Why?

She secretly inspected his phone and found lots of pornography.

I’m going to skip a lot of the more obvious questions this raises, but go to a deeper issue.  Pornography does hurt so many people indirectly.  However, it hurts many women very directly, consuming young women and changing them for their lifetimes.  What can we do?

Perhaps society can legalize and regulate pornography?  Why not?  Many countries have successfully done the same thing with dangerous substances, like cigarettes.

Once it’s been legalized, is there anything else we can do?

Yes.  We can restrict all ownership, all management, and all employment opportunities to nothing but WOMEN.

Imagine that.  An entire industry that is nothing but women.  Well, there would be some men.  But those would only be part-time positions paid on an hourly basis.

That was the first crazy idea.  And that led me to think about how sex and health education are taught in our country.  Poorly, overall.

What if it was also taught entirely by women?

The material itself might not change, but the misleading stereotypes about women would probably stop.  After all, it’s men talking to boys that keeps a lot of those stereotypes going.

Would classes be segregated?  Probably yes, it’s still for the best.  Young people don’t know how to handle the other gender so well at that age.

As I said at the start, one crazy idea often leads to another, and another, and sometimes, perhaps a good idea.

What do you think?

 

 

Bibi Djan: Part 15

Average age back in the day before child labor laws, about twelve.

Bibi Djan, The Rug Weaver

Introduction   Grandma Helen (Heghineh) Davidian spent early mornings at her writing desk.  She didn’t sleep as much as the rest of her family, and the extra time was invested in telling stories about the lives of young Persian women in the early 1900s.

 

Part 15   His head dropped and the tears rolled down his cheeks into his beard, while the nurse stood silently watching the tragedy of the little man, and waiting for an answer.
Then he lifted his head heavily and said in a quivering whisper, “Save my child!”

His knees sagged and he slumped on the bench.  After a few moments he made a great effort to rise, but he could not.  He wanted to run after the nurse and tell her that he had made a terrible mistake, that he had not meant what he said.  But the woman in white seemed to be running across a desert, and running after her a long distance, he came to Bibi Djan.

She wore a green velvet coat and her head was covered with a pink chadour.  It was her wedding dress.  He remembered her on their wedding day, sitting beside him in front of a large mirror and she had smiled.  Now, too, she was staring at him, but she was not smiling.

She seemed to say: “Go away Habib, I am disgusted with you.  You must have smoked too much opium today.”

And he replied, “I will smoke no more. I vow it by your life, and by my own life.  I will break my pipe to bits.  You must believe me, Bibi Djan.  Now let us go home.  We have a long way to walk.  Why don’t you answer me. . . Don’t run away.  Wait, dearest to my soul. . .wait!” cried Habib, and was startled to hear his own voice.

 

(Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion … next Monday)

 

 

Bibi Djan: Part 14

Average age back in the day before child labor laws, about twelve.

Bibi Djan, The Rug Weaver

Introduction   Grandma Helen (Heghineh) Davidian spent early mornings at her writing desk.  She didn’t sleep as much as the rest of her family, and the extra time was invested in telling stories about the lives of young Persian women in the early 1900s.

 

Part 14   A thousand other vows flashed through his mind, but when he felt that none of them was enough, he lifted his arms over his head and muttered: “Allah, if you spare Bibi Djan, I will give up smoking opium.  I promise, and this time I will make my promise good–if only my wife lives.”

At that moment the door opened and a nurse came in.  Habib sprang to his feet, his fingers clutching at his heart.

“Are you the husband of the patient under operation?” asked the nurse.  “Give me an ear. The doctor says you must decide quickly.  Which would you want us to save–your child or your wife?  We may have to sacrifice one to save the other–or else both may die.”

Habib stared at the nurse, his eyes wide.  A chill had suddenly fallen upon his emotions. What would he do with a motherless child?  He stroked his beard and beat his forehead.  How could he sacrifice hid child, a part of his own flesh and blood?  How could he tear out one of his eyes?  But could he ever find himself a wife as faithful and thrifty as Bibi Djan?  How could he give verdict against his own soul?

 

(to be continued)

 

 

Bibi Djan: Part 13

Average age back in the day before child labor laws, about twelve.

Bibi Djan, The Rug Weaver

Introduction   Grandma Helen (Heghineh) Davidian spent early mornings at her writing desk.  She didn’t sleep as much as the rest of her family, and the extra time was invested in telling stories about the lives of young Persian women in the early 1900s.

 

Part 13   The nurse seized the old woman by the arm, and led her out of the room. Then with Habib’s help she sent out all the other women and children and latched the doors, although they crowded at the window and tried to peep in.

At last Bibi Djan lay down and the nurse held the chloroform to her nose. When Bibi Djan was unconscious, the woman bent and lifted her gently in her arms and carried her out.  Habib picked up the bundles, chased everyone out of the yard, and locked the street door.

Alone in the waiting room of the hospital, Habib paced the floor, rubbing his hands together nervously.  He tried to sit down a moment, but he could not.  Then he went and stood by the window.

The day was almost gone. In the garden below, the pomegranate trees bent under the burden of their cracked fruit.

But Habib saw nothing. He stood, motionless, staring.  “Why did I bring her to the hospital against her will?” he thought “If she dies, how am I to account for her on the Day of Judgment? But no, they told me she would not die.  They have saved many lives.”

He went and sat on a and pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head upon them. In his heart he made promises to God and the prophets. He pledged a part of his belongings to the poor.  He vowed to go upon a pilgrimage to the holy city of Meshed.

 

(to be continued)