Parenting teens is tough work and this d*^%n white dress made parenting for me that much harder.

Now, I was raised by two wonderful parents who worked hard at teaching us right from wrong. The challenge is that my mother wasn’t taught about sex. She just kinda came across the topic, similar to how you stumble upon an uneven section of the concrete while walking. She was sheltered, bookended by two over-protective older brothers and a truckload of old school, prudish relatives from Mississippi who all migrated to Detroit and lived within one mile of each other.

So, what do she when she has three daughters of her own? Uh…the same thing. You couldn’t say sex in our house, let alone ask any questions about stuff you heard at school. When I started my cycle at the young age of 9, my mother took me to a doctor’s office and all I remember is a movie with birds, bees, eggs and sperm, which sorta looked like little worms lost in the ocean. After the movie, they showed us pictures of a naked woman and a naked man, but they didn’t elaborate much on sex, hormones, feelings leading up to sex. Nope. I was more confused than ever and my mother never asked me a single thing about it. She thought, “Whew! I did my part. Don’t have to deal with that anymore.”

I found out more from school (and not in health class) about sex and sexuality, than I ever did from that movie. I’ll never forget when my girl friends would bring Cosmo to school (the half-naked woman on the front is not new to the 21st century) and my guy friends would brag about the info they got from “Uncle Willie” and how he let them sneak a peek at his girlie magazines. How could we have possibly been expected to have any responsible, respectable relationships when boys in groups of threes would push their easily erected bodies up against you while your back was turned and you were putting stuff in your locker?

Man, we were in a world of trouble. We had a make-out cove in the E-Wing where couples could go and get in a quickie. Hello!

So, what am I doing differently with my daughter, hell my children, because if we only talk to the girls, that’s like throwing Danielle in the hungry lion’s den dressed in a full-length coat made of raw meat?

I’m teaching sex education as soon as they start asking questions or as soon as I think they are able to understand. In my daughter’s case, I taught intro to sex and reproduction in 5th grade. Shocked? Tripping? Think it’s too early? Check this.

My daughter went to school and a little girl in her class commented on my pregnancy.

“Is that your mama?”

“Yeah.”

“She pregnant.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, my mama was pregnant, but she killed that baby.”

My daughter, shocked, unable to respond, walked away. As soon as we had some time alone,

“Mommy, this girl in my class is crazy. She lies and talks a lot. Guess what she said?”

Scared out of my mind, “What did she say?”

“She said her mama killed her baby and she was happy.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I did the half-listening, super calm mama thing, “Oh, really honey. She didn’t know what she was talking about.” And I just dropped it.

Dang! Abortion in the 5th grade? How did the mama tell the child? So many questions…I wasn’t ready then, but I’m getting ready and instead of letting the world be the teacher, I’m taking a proactive stance.

I’m teaching abstinence until marriage and my daughter is enrolled in a series of classes on purity at church, taught to boys and girls, ages 12-18 (it was initially 14 to 19 until someone produced an area statistic that said average age of having sex for the first time is 13, down from 15, about 10 years ago). They have to take classes on sex, girlfriend/boyfriend stuff, financial management, hygiene, etiquette, entrepreneurship (I’m teaching that one), self-esteem, faith in this world and community service. At the end of the classes (I think there are a total of 11 classes), they are having a cotillion/beautillion ball where they will be escorted by their parents and awarded for their commitment and accomplishments.

How does my daughter feel about this?

She’s fine with taking the classes and is actually enjoying herself with the group of over 20 children who are involved, but she does NOT want to participate in the ball. She doesn’t want to put on a “poofy white dress” and “be in front of whole bunch of people who I don’t care about” just to say that she’s pure. “It’s stupid.”

I get her point, but I also know that it takes a village to raise a child and people are taking time out to pour into her, to plant viable seed in her life. All she has to do is dance? I had a debutante ball/didn’t want to do it and it was purely social/had nothing to do with growing your faith or preparing you for the craziness of this world and I was so not a princess (I’m still not girly like that) but the memories are still with me, the experience is one that I would never forget. I’m glad I did it now.

I trust my daughter, love her, but do I lay down the law and make her do this ball for the sake of “what she will regret later in life.” Or do I let her make the decision and have the moment missed because of teen angst or really, the short-sightedness of youth.

What would you do and why?

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