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My hometown of Lubbock, Texas has been described as the biggest small town in the state, a city of two hundred thousand residents that is the glimmering rhinestone on the famed Bible Belt. Lubbock's claims to fame include the rockabilly crooner Buddy Holly, the lead singer of the Dixie Chicks and some of the highest rates of sexually transmitted infections (STI's) in the nation.
Another famous Lubbockite, Butch Hancock, best summed up the opinion of sexuality education in my little town when he stated that "Life in Lubbock, Texas, taught me two things: One is that God loves you and you're going to burn in hell. The other is that sex is the most awful, filthy thing on earth and you should save it for someone you love." Teen sex was a taboo topic of conversation, a problem that had been quietly lurking for over thirty years. As it turned out, it would take a group of teens to bring it out in the open.
At thirteen we were herded into the auditorium of my junior high to listen to the district's version of sexuality education. We were met by a middle-aged pastor with bleached blonde hair and a penchant for showing up at the local hangout spots to preach to anyone who would listen. He began his presentation with warnings about masturbation, claiming it would cause one to become a selfish lover and could lead to divorce later in life. He spouted that condoms almost always failed and STI tests were painful and shameful. He grew louder and louder, shouting down any questions or laughter.
His presentation ended with his story, that his first time to have sex was with his wife on their wedding night. From his pocket he took a toothbrush in a package and one that looked like it had been used to scrub toilets, saying that you wanted to know where your toothbrush had been, what it had been doing and whom it had been doing it with. The point was clear: if you had sex before marriage, you were the dirty toothbrush.
By fifteen I had heard the presentation twice more, and each year it grew more vulgar and menacing. That year I joined the Lubbock Youth Commission, a group created by the city to give local teens a voice in civic issues. The group decided to take on the abstinence-only sex education policy that we felt was the root of the high STI rates afflicting our peers.
We began meeting with local and national health officials to determine a proper course of action. The group met with local churches and organizations to help build a base of support. The idea was to gather information to eventually put into a report to be given to the school board.
When I became the spokesperson for the Lubbock Youth Commission, I never imagined that the media would be so interested. It seemed that the image of a teen talking so frankly about sex made a great story for the evening news. I was soon labeled the "sex ed girl", and my life began to change.
The Youth Commission had adopted its plan to change the sex education curriculum because many of us had friends that had personally dealt with teen pregnancy and STI's. However, I never knew the extent of the misinformation floating around the halls of my high school until my efforts became fodder for the evening news. Other students began to approach me to ask sexual health questions and clear up urban myths. It was then that I realized that these students couldn't wait for the school district to change their policy; we had to take change into our own hands.
The members of the commission began taking classes at the Red Cross, and several of us became certified to teach peer sex education at the local health department. We began holding forums, providing experts that could answer the many questions teens had about sex. Our partnership with MTV's Fight for Your Rights campaign led to large forum and a half-hour television special about the problems in Lubbock.
Throughout I continued to prepare to make a presentation to the school board, who had been watching us warily and refusing to put the issue on their agenda. As the most visible member, I became the target of discrimination at school. My teachers received a letter with a warning about my 'disruptive activities' and soon my hall pass privileges were revoked. Some teachers shunned me or made rude comments while others offered quiet support and encouragement.
Finally, the school board agreed to let us have our say during their public meeting. I was given five minutes to outline our entire proposal. We boiled it down to what we thought were the most important points. We wanted a guarantee that the sex education portion would be taught in all health classes and that a certified public health official is to be brought into each class to give their perspective. Lastly we wanted the formation of an advisory board to guide the sex education curriculum, which is actually required by Texas law.
I gave my presentation to blank faces and I knew from the moment I began speaking they had already made up their mind. They listened politely, and then dismissed the concerns of every student in the district. Two months later the city cut the funding of the Lubbock Youth Commission, citing that it was not created to be an activism group.
Two years later, the district is still firmly behind their sex education policy, as it won them the right to deny a Gay Straight Alliance in one of the high schools. Lubbock no longer has the highest rates in the nation, but it is near the top of the list every year.
Some could say that I failed, that because we didn't get a full comprehensive curriculum we hadn't done any good at all. However, there is awareness now in the public schools about sex that was not apparent when we began. Teens still tell me how grateful they are for what I tried to do and the information that we provided.
The Lubbock Independent School District did not get off unscathed, either. National media outlets still look to the small town as an example of everything that is wrong with the abstinence-only programs that are sweeping the nation.
As for me, happiness really was Lubbock, Texas in my rearview mirror. I am a first-year sophomore at the University of Texas at Austin. I am still active in sex education activism. In November I testified before the Texas State Board of Education regarding sex education textbooks, and am currently working on a Sex Ed Day for the campus. A film chronicling my activism work, titled The Education of Shelby Knox, will premiere in the documentary competition portion of the 2005 Sundance Film Festival.
Texas is one of twenty-eight states that do not require sex education to be taught as part of the school curriculum. The state received at least $7,050,631 in federal abstinence-only funding for the fiscal year of 2003. President Bush proposed a sweeping $268 million for the unproven programs in 2005, encouraging more school districts to adopt potentially harmful programs.
As young feminists it is our responsibility to take charge of our education, especially as the government tries to keep us in the dark. It is our lives and health that are on the line, and we have to step up to protect ourselves.
Postscript
"The Education of Shelby Knox" premiered at Sundance to critical
acclaim and has recieved reviews in Variety and The Hollywood
Reporter. The film won the award for best cinematography at the
Sundance Film Festival and the audience award at the South By
Southwest film festival. The film will travel the festival circuit and
launch the 18th season of PBS's P.O.V. program on June 21st, 2005. It
will then be used as a teaching tool for other young activists who
want to challenge policies in their own communities.