No 1: LET’S TALK ABOUT SEX ED — AND HARRY POTTER

PHOTO BY GIA RINELLA

GIA RINELLA
My jaw hit the floor, and the green hardcover book with embossed purple letters toppled out of my hands. The words that had changed my life forever echoed through my head: “Isn’t it sad when Dumbledore dies?” 

I wanted to hit her. Right then and there--drag her by the little blonde mop of hair on top of her head. How could she? Didn’t she see that my bookmark was only on the second chapter? I wasn’t a violent child, but this was the final strike after she wiped her greasy little hands on the front of my dad’s shirt post gymnastics practice. I could barely squelch the tears back into my eyes as I stomped off the playground in my purple mary jane Keens and headed towards the backpack hooks. 

That night, I went home and cried to my mom about how I had no reason to continue reading Harry Potter or to speak to the secret spoiler ever again. Now, I eventually did pick the book back up and make it to platform 9 ¾ 19 years after the Battle of Hogwarts, however, this single moment had tainted my experience with the novels forever. Oh and by the way, don’t worry. I got my revenge alright. It was more animosity than you would expect to find in most second graders, however, at my eighth birthday party (Harry Potter themed of course with carefully labeled potions ingredients and hand calligraphed letters from Professor McGonagall herself) I made sure she was the only guest sorted into Slytherin. My dad (a.k.a. the sorting hat) helped me out with this a little, I will admit. Yes it was mean, and yes we were only eight, but in my eyes, it was the perfect solution. 

Flash forward 6 years later, and I’m sitting in a small brick classroom on a grassy campus in Sandy, Utah far from the playground in the very urban Oakland, California where I had grown up. I adjusted my white collared shirt and plaid skirt, still uncomfortable with the idea of having to wear a uniform. Our advisor was outlining our course requirements for our freshman year—one of which was a term-long class called “Healthy Living”. 

“What a waste of time” I thought to myself. I had taken a much more in depth class the previous three years and was not interested in sitting through it again, nor did I want to sacrifice a term of dance for it. My mom and I discussed it over ice-cold Slurpees on the ride home in our little silver Volkswagen beetle. She agreed, and so she made a call to the school. She explained the situation, and after long discussions with administrators and the teacher of the class, they conceded saying that my previous education was probably much more in depth as the class didn’t even mention the word “sex”. When she relayed this information to me, I was appalled. 

I had come from a fairly liberal private school in Oakland where, as middle schoolers, we had one week each year dedicated to discussing sexual education and sexual harassment along with a year long course similar to the healthy living curriculum. A trained professional would work with us, truly making sure we were educated about the subject matter to the fullest extent possible in order to best prepare us for the developmental years ahead. I remember walking into the small room adjacent to the café halfway through the day. 

Folding chairs were placed in short rows across the room, and out the long windows, you could see a trellis with vines spiraling up towards the sky. I remember the light switch being flicked off and the old boxy tv’s static as we began our first session. There was an exciting bustle about missing class, but also a shared curiosity about what would take place in the coming week. 

Some parents thought that it was a little too much. Was allowing unregulated question and answer sessions or bringing in anatomical puppets appropriate? I would argue that even though we were young, and even though we were met with more information than we had ever received on the subject, the truth of the matter is, if we hadn’t received that information then and there, we would have heard it somewhere else-- a friend, an older sibling, online. And just like I had learned in second grade when the Harry Potter spoiler that haunted me for my elementary school years spilled out of my friend’s lips, the way that you obtain information will forever affect your relationship with the subject matter. 

Back on my high school campus, I began to pay more attention to discussions among my classmates regarding the subject matter. I was struck by the way misinformation created in this vacuum directly affected the people around me, including my closest friends.  I recall lengthy discussions with my friends on the grassy quad, mountains looming behind us, trying to explain to them why the flawed information they had heard from their upperclassmen friends or older siblings was incorrect. The things I heard my fellow classmates say, especially in regards to women and sex, not only surprised but disgusted me. 

When our school decided to teach consent, it was taught in a non-sexual context and soon became a grade-wide joke. You couldn’t go a day on campus without hearing the tagline phrase of the speech: “consent is key” said in the halls in a mocking tone or being asked for consent to poke your shoulder. Something so important, affecting so many students, was now being laughed at and ultimately leaving them vulnerable. 

I was even more surprised to learn that what we had been taught, was head and shoulders above what the public schools in the state learned. I was puzzled by why this was all happening. I knew that the religion that defined much of the state’s morals would also have an affect on this, but I could simply not wrap my mind around the reasoning for legally only allowing the teaching of abstinence in Utah public schools--not even consent. Just because you deny the existence of something, it doesn’t mean that it actually goes away. 

If I had decided to stop reading Harry Potter, I may have been actively avoiding the subject, but as one of the most relevant pieces of literature culturally, I still would have heard things about the last two books unwillingly and would have pieced those scraps of information together to build my own version of the series’s ending. Even if I had just watched the movies, there would have been so much information I would have missed out on like Peeves, Winky the elf, the battle of the house elves because of the flawed second-hand retelling--but how would I have known it was flawed if it was the only information I was receiving at all? 

Now, imagine I pass my perceived ending of the book around to a bunch of my friends who haven’t read the series either, and just like I did, they take my word for it because they have nothing to compare it to. Then, imagine that we are at a trivia night and are asked a question about what happens to the elder wand at the end of the last book. Confidently, we all answer that Harry snaps it in half, because I had seen the movie and told my friends I was sure that’s what happened. The buzzer goes off: wrong! “It was placed back in Dumbledore’s grave, idiot!” a haughty voice shouts. Not only are we all embarrassed because everyone in the room is laughing at us, but we also just lost out on our opportunity to participate in the finals. Although this is a much smaller scale example of misinformation that doesn’t involve pregnancy or STDs, it still had real repercussions. Only around 40% of kids in the U.S. have read Harry Potter, but imagine misinformation being spread about something that will inevitably affect almost every single child and can have serious consequences. You don’t have to, because it is happening right in front of us. 

I have tried to take action in my school community in any way possible, trust me. I have approached the head and assistant head of my school, talked to countless teachers, told any parents I could at birthday parties and school events. But most importantly, I have done my best to keep the people around me safe, informed, and accountable. The thing about this specific issue is that it doesn't have some crazy, unattainable solution. There’s proof that a thoughtful and reasonable approach to sexual education can be successful, and I’ve seen it with my own eyes. 

But, this issue needs to be addressed on a larger scale. It does not just exist on my school campus, but within the entire state and further the rest of the country. As Utah ranks last in the U.S for women’s equality among other things, I unfortunately don’t see any progression on this issue in the near future as multiple bills requiring consent education alone have been struck down in the Utah legislature.

 If I could hand out 7 beautifully bound hardcover copies of the Harry Potter series to every child in the state and give them noise cancelling headphones to block any spoilers or wrong information, I would. However, I guess the most that we can hope for is that at least some kids, like myself, have the chance to learn the subject matter fully and properly; That kids with that education incorporate those important tools into their lives, aid their friends in the same endeavor, and above all, use their voices to create the change that they envision.