Moments of utter clarity are infrequent, truly rare gems in
this life; when a path towards a relationship/job/journey crystalizes in the
minds eye and becomes clear and sure. What follows is the story of my
realization that I wanted to be sex educator for teenagers.
I’m sitting on a small wooden bench in the grade 1 classroom
at my school. Twelve teenage girls and my two amazing counterparts, teachers at
my school who are doing the majority of the facilitating, are sitting on
benches like mine in a circle. The wind is blowing fiercely, and much needed
raindrops are splattering the tin roof and the land outside. Despite the
deafening pounding of rain on a tin roof, the girls are rapt with attention in
a way they would never be during an English lesson in similar circumstances.
Their Skillz Girl Diaries
are opened to the page with diagrams and descriptions
about what exactly is happening when we women folk bleed every month,
and I’m
describing it as they follow along, followed closely by a Sesotho translation
from one of my counterparts.
These girls range in age from 12-16, and to my knowledge
they’ve all started their periods. They have lots of responsibilities that most
twelve year olds in the states couldn’t fathom having to do every day, like walking
up and down mountains and over hills to fetch large buckets of water on their
heads like it’s nothing. They’re all accustomed to death, and by necessity are,
in some ways, more like adults than the children they are.
And yet, from the way they’re holding onto my words and grin
shyly when I say words like “ovaries” and “vagina”, it’s clear that this is the
first time someone has talked to them in such a straightforward way about their
bodies. And in other practices, about their own self-worth, about what exactly
it means to be in a healthy relationship, about birth control and protecting
themselves from HIV and about how to advocate for themselves and embody the
power they have. Really, about what the hell it is to be a girl in this world,
in their world.
They’re sharp as tacks. Once they felt comfortable enough to
speak, the insightful and articulate things that started pouring out of them
made me fill up with pride and wonder. It’s just that few people have ever
asked them to share what they think and feel about these things. To ask
questions, to discuss, to probe. And now that it’s day four, their new
knowledge and confidence is really starting to take hold, and it’s beautiful.
To top it off, they get to play soccer, which is kind of a
perfect analogy to many of the lessons covered in the life skills sessions: changing gender norms and expectations, healthy communication in relationships and the importance of a support
system in order to reach our goals.
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| Makholene killin' it |
My whole being is tingling with joy.
…written on day four of the six day Grassroot Soccer camp I
just completed with the grade seven girls at my school, the ones who just
graduated and will be moving on to high school come January. I’m ecstatic about
this program, and I can’t wait to do it with the girls and boys when the new school year starts up.
And really, for life.
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| moments of tenderness during an energizer |
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| They sure are some Genius Ladies (the team name they picked for themselves). |
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| demonstrating how to say "No!" during a skit at their graduation |
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| Lebo showing them how to track their menstrual cycles. |
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| The girls and my main counterpart, 'M'e Eugenia |
Khotso.
