Growing up, nothing was off limits in my house when it comes up for conversation. We talked about everything; Racism, current events, school, drugs, and yes, sex. My mother wasted no time discussing the three-letter word with me. By the time I was nine, I knew things that might make Dr. Ruth blush. My mother didn’t cover my eyes when Lil’ Kim squatted and opened her legs to reveal her Twinkie sized pussy or cover my ears when I’d hear Prince croon about his lustful adventures with a sex fiend named Nikki. Instead, she used it as an opportunity to explain the sanctified smut that the world has to offer.

Words like dick, pussy, penis, vagina, balls, testicles, menstrual, sperm, cum, cock, and porn weren’t no-no words. They were simply openers for a bigger conversation about sex. A conversation that didn’t just last an awkward few minutes, but was a comfortable conversation that has lasted my whole life. Of course, some things you simply don’t want to discuss with your mother, but the embarrassment surrounded around being a sexual being is vanished which leaves a more open dialogue about everything even beyond sex.

Yet, I’m sure most American households weren’t (and aren’t) like mine. Most things are taboo and sex is the biggest taboo. One of my close friends has recently been exploring sex. She has been keeping safe, but still learning as she goes. When having discussion about sex, my graphic and matter-of-fact approach had her a bit shell-shocked. I’d ask certain questions and she could hardly look me in my eyes, but we’re best friends, right? Why would talking about such a natural exploration with someone who you share everything else with promote so much bashfulness? It was a bit bewildering to think that some people have all of these natural feelings, questions, and comparisons they’d like to make to know if they’re normal, but are too ashamed to let it happen. That’s a problem. So, I keened into my inner-Carrie Bradshaw, we went out for a late night meal at one of my favorite restaurants, and discussed all of the nasty, little things that go on between the sheets. Vanity and her 6 would be proud.

A few days later, I caught up with an old friend from high-school. A few things changed. He came out the closet, moved, gained a boyfriend, and the HIV virus. The news was devastating, but as we spoke about it, the more I realized that the actions were his responsibility, but the knowledge was beyond him because no one informed him. Sex was not discussed in his house, gay sex was even more off-limits, and that led to him at the ripe and horny age of 17 to explore exactly what his body was so obviously curious about. With his exploration and his misguided beliefs on HIV, he contracted it. That’s an even bigger problem than the one my bashful pal was dealing with.

The vacant space where knowledge should be able to penetrate and explode freely is sometimes replaced with ignorance. People are blindfolded (and not in the good way) by the shame and discomfort that talking about sexuality can bring, but the discussion can save our mental and physical health that can be birthed from this ignorance. It’s the ignorance that runs the risk of being translated into STDs, low self-esteem, and strange encounters with leather and horses. Let’s talk about sex, not for the sake of being kinky, but for the sake of shining the flesh-light on a natural human interaction if avoided and kept taboo can lead to a lethal ménage à trois with shame and health risks.

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