Moralistic arguments against sex education are escapist, hypocritical

There have recently been renewed calls for “introduction” of health, wellness and sex education in Kenyan schools.

Photo credit: File | Fotosearch

What you need to know:

  • Traditional African societies had very well defined sexual socialisation processes.
  • A casual chat with a Grade Five pupil will reveal that primary schools are already teaching about ‘copulation’.


There have recently been renewed calls for “introduction” of health, wellness and sex education in Kenyan schools, one by Kirinyaga Woman Representative Jane Maina and the other by Senator Catherine Mumma.

Members of the National Assembly sharply differed on Maina’s motion, with liberals arguing that children’s exposure to sexual content justifies such education and conservatives retorting that this is the province of parents, and that the subject would promote “Western practices that undermine African values”.

The former maintained that the subject is critical because parents are culturally inhibited from discussing sexual matters with children. In a rhetorical contribution, one legislator asked Ms Maina to state exactly what was missing from the curriculum that she wanted to be added.

These renewed calls reignite the perennial debate about adolescent sexual and reproductive health. The elephant in the room is that Kenya is notorious for exponential rates of teenage pregnancy and births. That the country is ranked third in the world on this is an unflattering distinction and one that reflects our decay as a nation.

Runaway teenage pregnancy rates indicate early sexual debut and a dysfunctional sociocultural system. The consequences are legion: exposure to sexually transmitted infections; dropout from school, translating into wastage, poor transition and reduced opportunities for full socioeconomic developmental; premature assumption of parental duties without the requisite physical, economic and emotional capacity; unsafe abortions; complicated births due to physiological immaturity, hence mortality and/or resort to surgeries; early marriages; higher reproductive lifespan, hence likelihood of large families; poor ability to cater for the babies; and economic vulnerability, hence overdependence on male partners. All these perpetuate gender disparities.

Adolescent pregnancies have been normalised to the extent that they are virtually romanticised. Purists would argue that the high toleration actually encourages the vice because there is no social opprobrium against it, but passive acceptance by society.

Some might even contend that allowing girls who have become pregnant back to school reinforces the behaviour, notwithstanding that it upholds the right to education and neutralises the inherent injustice that would be perpetrated, given that men responsible for the pregnancies are never held accountable.

Every time this issue comes up, no one defines “sex education”. But it is obvious from the discourse that the phrase is anathema in Kenyan moral circles and is construed to mean tutoring children on how to engage in sexual intercourse. This antagonism informs why the National Adolescent Sexual and Reproductive Health Policy, 2015, calls it “age-appropriate comprehensive sexuality education”, a circumlocution to boot.

The policy defines such education as “teaching about sexuality and relationships by providing scientifically accurate, realistic and non-judgmental information … to explore one’s own values and attitudes, as well as build decision-making communication and risk reduction skills about many aspects of sexuality”. Just how much clearer can it get?

The policy commits to: strengthening access to appropriate information and programmes for adolescents in and out of school; the use of innovative approaches to enhance such access; capacity building of health care practitioners to provide the information; reliance on existing community health structures; enhancing linkage between relevant government ministries; and allocation of a budget for the initiative.

The Ministry of Education, in collaboration with that of health, is expected to implement the provisions in line with relevant sectoral policies, including the one on reentry for pregnant schoolgirls.

The moralistic arguments against the subject are escapist, deceitful and hypocritical, tending as they do, to suggest that sexual matters have been and are taboo subjects in African cultures and civilisations.

On the contrary, traditional African societies had very well defined sexual socialisation processes in which adolescents were educated about physiological and hormonal changes, management of puberty, healthy sexual relations and the virtue of pre-marital abstinence. This was done by relevant (grand)parents alongside uncles, aunts, siblings and peers.  

Where then did the myth that sexual matters are taboo in Africa come from? And if it is true that parents are coy about discussing the issue with their children, should the focus not shift to attitude change education for the former on their responsibilities?

Would it also not be more useful to engage in an evidence based debate on whether sex education in schools actually reduces adolescent pregnancies? And if it does not, what are the better alternatives? Is it perhaps time we became more candid about the fact that we are by nature sexual entities?

A casual chat with a Grade Five pupil will reveal that primary schools are already teaching about “copulation” (not how to do it). Is it not possible to develop a collaboration between parents and schools on the matter? Why do we continue to bury our heads in the sand like the proverbial ostrich?

The writer is an international gender and development consultant and scholar ([email protected]).