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Countering "going to do it anyway."

I recently completed a graduate course in character education in which we were required to carry out an "action project." For my project I chose to use character-based sex education to try to instill in my younger sister and her friend the self-respect, self-control, and courage needed to lead moral, fulfilling, and healthy lives.
I wanted to inform my 14-year-old sister Kathy about something that I unfortunately just began to take seriously: abstinence. Sure, I have always known what the word meant, but I had never considered it an option for me, until recently. I felt that it was my responsibility to pass the philosophy of abstinence on to my sister because I know that she will not get it in the "going to do it anyway" program that is used at her high school. Also, she is a virgin (her friend is, too), so I wanted to show her how important it is to hold onto that purity.
I started these discussions when I accidentally overheard my sister Kathy, and her friend, Michelle, talking about a "slut" that one of their friends was dating. I asked them why they considered her a slut, and Michelle responded: "She has slept with at least eight guys already, and she is easy." I asked them to think about why this girl is so promiscuous. Kathy said, "She's trying to keep a boyfriend." They assumed that having sex was a way of holding onto a boyfriend and showing love for one another. They also assumed that condoms would protect them from disease and pregnancy and that having sex had no implications for their future adult lives. My goal was to dispel all these myths.
We first tackled the issue of sex as "showing love" or "keeping a boyfriend." I used the girl they were talking about as an example of how boyfriends come and go whether girls have intercourse with them or not. We also talked about girls' feelings when they are rejected after giving part of themselves to another person. I then told them about my having pre-marital sex, and how I wished these relationships had never occurred and that the only true way to find out if a guy loves you is to make him wait until marriage.

We talked about the self-respect and courage involved in leading sexually abstinent lives until marriage. These two young girls developed a new awareness of how truly loving relationships and commitments develop and are sustained. Their awareness was evident in their response to my disclosing that I recently told my boyfriend that I wanted to abstain from sex from now on and he said he could not do this. I asked Kathy and Michelle if they thought the relationship was worth continuing, and they both said, "No, he does not love you if he won't wait for you." I was proud of their answer.
I gave real-life examples of teens who became pregnant or who contracted STDs even with the use of condoms; one of those persons was a close friend of mine.
I also wanted to make these girls aware of the physical dangers of pre-marital sex. I gave real-life examples of teens who became pregnant or who contracted STDs even with the use of condoms; one of those persons was a close friend of mine. They were shocked to find out that this friend contracted herpes from sexual intercourse while using a condom. We considered the possible implications of such diseases: the inability to conceive a baby, passing on a sexual disease to your spouse, and transmitting a disease to your baby in the womb or during delivery.
Besides being more confident in their virginity, Kathy and Michelle have now set the personal goal of saving sex for marriage. They also no longer pick apart boys or girls who are sexually active by calling them "sluts" or "pimps" but instead focus on the deeper consequences of such behaviors and on what promiscuous girls and boys must be lacking in their lives.
My sister and Michelle have recently asked two of their friends to join us in our discussions. I've also shared my project with the parents of these girls. These parents are beginning to realize that abstinence-based sex education is more beneficial than the model now used at their daughters' high school.
A pdf version of this article is available here .
Jessica Burberry. "Teaching my younger sister about sex and love." excellence & ethics (Summer, 1998).
Reprinted with permission. Excellence & Ethics , published by the Center for the 4th and 5th Rs , is the education letter of the Smart & Good Schools Project. It features essays, research, and K-12 best practices that help school leaders, teachers, students, parents, and community members do their best work (performance character) and do the right thing (moral character).
excellence & ethics is published twice a year and may be subscribed to, without cost, here .
Jessica Burberry (a pseudonym) is a first-year elementary school teacher and a graduate student in education at SUNY Cortland.
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Remember the story of Mercy Igoki, the 48-year-old senior assistant university registrar who accused her daughter of stealing her husband?
Mercy met and adopted an orphaned girl who was three years older than her first born. That was in 2006.
The girl bonded very well with her family and her problems began when she had to resign her job to recover from an accident that left her with multiple fractures.
“I enrolled for an undergraduate degree in Meru. I would be away from home sometimes up to three weeks or longer at a time because of my studies,” Mercy was quoted in Parent magazine, adding that she then began hearing rumours from neighbours about her adopted daughter sleeping with her husband.
“In anger, I confronted them and to my shock, my husband blamed me for the affair, saying I had brought the girl to him,” said Mercy. She has since forgiven them.
Then there was the case of Samuel Kamotho, a Thika-based engineer who was almost lynched by his neighbours after his wife, Virginia Wangari, accused him of sleeping with his 18-year-old daughter, Lucy Nyawira.
Stories of fathers sleeping with their daughters, biological or adopted, never seem to leave people gaping in wonder.
In the case above, the 51-year-old Kamotho denied the allegations, claiming his wife was peddling lies to tarnish his name for refusing to accept her back.
His daughter too denied there was any sexual relationship between them.
But why do fathers sleep with their daughters? And do girls fancy sexual intimacy with their fathers? Is it that some men have such a low sense of value and coupled with their insatiable desire for sex, are blinded into engaging in such distasteful incestuous acts?
Irene Waruru, a businesswoman based in Kiambu, claims that one of her neighbours slept with his biological daughter for years without being questioned.
“I think he was depressed. His wife and family members were aware of what was going on, but did not do anything. His daughter did not complain either. It was such a twisted family,” she claimed.
But not all cases involve mentally-disturbed fathers; sometimes a totally sane man can take advantage of a mentally-ill daughter.
A while back, a Maralal court slapped a 60-year-old man with a 20-year jail sentence for defiling his mentally-ill stepdaughter and infecting her with a sexually transmitted disease.
The then Maralal Principal Magistrate, Charles Ndegwa who sentenced Lesunya Lekirimpoto, said the prosecution had proved beyond reasonable doubt that the accused had committed the offence and “the court sentences the accused to serve 20 years in jail to serve as an example to would-be offenders.”
The court heard that the accused, his stepdaughter and his wife were sleeping in the same bed when he committed the offence.
He is said to have turned on the teenager after he had domestic differences with his wife and proceeded to defile her.
A quarrel ensued after the incident, prompting the complainant and her mother to report the accused at Wamba Police Station after which he was arrested.
In mitigation, Lekirimpoto, pleaded for leniency because he was the sole breadwinner. But the court said the sentence was commensurate to the offence committed.
Others blame such acts on orders from ‘higher powers.’
Remember the case of the MP from Western Kenya who could no longer visit his village home during the day due to shame as neighbours found out that he was sleeping with his daughter?
Well, it later emerged that the politician had been advised by a local witch doctor to commit the offence to help him win the elections.
Others sleep with their daughters on the instructions of leaders of secret cults, who promise spiritual powers or prolonged lives.
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Even though I was convinced Tamsin had been telling the truth, still a tiny part of me had hoped it was all a mistake

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In seconds my world came tumbling down
Emma Charles thought that she and her family were living a normal life. But then she discovered that her husband had been sexually abusing their daughter Tamsin since the age of ten. Twelve years on, Emma recalls that devastating day and the traumatic events that followed
In many ways, we were an ordinary family – mum, dad, two kids, a Volvo in the drive. And in some ways we weren’t so ordinary. As a ship’s engineer, my husband Daniel worked away from home for up to four months at a time. But I never for a moment dreamt that we were extraordinary – until that day.
It started out fine, that Tuesday in December 1996. Our younger daughter, Claire, 13, was at school, and I was looking forward to spending some time with Tamsin, who had just broken up for the holidays. At 15, she was a weekly boarder at a specialist school for high-ability dyslexics.
We chatted about what she was going to do. That was when the first hint of discord arose. Tamsin and I squabbled, like all mothers and daughters. But that day she was impervious to reasoned argument. She began making hurtful personal attacks on her father and me, something she had never done. At bedtimewe kissed goodnight, but for the first time we parted with a coolness between us.
The following evening, I was in the living room when she burst in, flung a piece of paper at me and stormed out. ‘I have to leave or he has to,’ she had written. ‘And you seem to need him. And f*** you, you probably won’t believe me anyway.’ She was talking about her father – telling me that he had been sexually abusing her for the past five years. In the seconds it took me to absorb her words, my world came tumbling down.
I found her down the road with her dog. ‘Come home and tell me about it,’ I begged. She looked into my eyes and must have been reassured by what she saw. ‘He won’t leave me alone,’ she cried. ‘He’s always feeling me up. He brushes against my breasts so I know it’s not accidental, but he could persuade someone else it was.’
Hope blossomed in my mind. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding, an over-tactile father who would have to learn to respect his daughter’s personal space. ‘Has he ever touched you between your legs?’ I asked. ‘Last time he was home on leave,’ she sobbed.
Tears were falling from my eyes as I looked up the number for social services and picked up the phone. I just knew I had to do the right thing.
Daniel and I had been married for 18 years. I was 27 when we met, working as a medical photographer; he was a year older and at college, studying for his Second Engineer’s certificate. He was tall and slim with auburn hair and blue-grey eyes and a full beard and moustache. And he was gentle, laid-back – all the things I wasn’t. Within a week, I had decided he was the man with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life. We married the following year.
I hadn’t wanted children. It was Daniel who felt that we wouldn’t be a ‘proper family’ without them. Tamsin was conceived two years after our wedding, and Claire came along two and a half years after that. As it turned out, I loved being a mother and Daniel was good with the girls as babies. But as they grew up, he changed. His own parents had been authoritarian, and not reluctant to use a belt to hit their children. He, too, resorted to smacking and violence.
One incident in particular stands out. When the girls were seven and four, I noticed ‘fingertip’ bruising on Claire’s arm. I really went for Daniel, threatening to kick him out if he couldn’t control his temper. He was angry with me for taking him to task; but when he realised I was serious, he backed down and apologised. Over and over again, we talked about what was reasonable behaviour and over and over he agreed with me. But his efforts to improve never lasted long.
Why did I stay with him if things were so bad? Well, they weren’t bad all the time. Mostly, we had a good family life. I knew the harm that divorce causes to children. I still loved Daniel and I thought we could make it work. Until that day.
Tamsin, aged four, and her 18-month-old sister, Claire
Daniel was in the Far East when Tamsin wrote her devastating note. Social services set up an appointment for the following Monday. Meanwhile, I had to address another horrible thought. Gently, I asked Claire if her dad had ever touched her. ‘He used to come and give me back rubs,’ she replied. ‘But I liked that…’ ‘Nothing else?’ I asked. ‘He asked me to take off my T-shirt, but I just said no. And once he tried to give me a tummy rub, but I wouldn’t let him.’
It was becoming clearer now. Claire has always been an upfront child. Whenever anything was worrying her, she would come and tell me. If only Tamsin had been the same.
I’m not going to describe Tamsin’s statement to social services. Listening to her engraved pictures on my mind which I still have trouble banishing today. The police also took statements and arranged a medical examination. Several weeks later, Daniel was arrested as he stepped off a flight from Jakarta. DC Barbara White from the sexual offences unit called later to tell me: ‘He’s admitted everything. It’s a very credible confession. He wants me to tell you that he’s never raped Tamsin, and he’s never been unfaithful to you with anyone else.’
I cried my eyes out. Even though I was convinced Tamsin had been telling the truth, still a tiny part of me had hoped it was all a mistake.
Daniel was bailed, with strict conditions not to approach either Tamsin or me. I had imagined that he would be feeling crushed and placatory. I was soon to discover how little I knew him. Within a few days, a letter from him arrived informing me that his mother was bitter that I had not kept our troubles ‘within the family’. So that was it. I was to be blamed for reporting the abuse. This was my first experience of the denial which abusers use to protect themselves from acknowledging the harm they have caused. Who is protected by dealing with such matters within the family? Only the abuser.
For the sexual assault on his daughter, Daniel was sentenced to 12 months’ imprisonment and placed on the Sex Offenders Register for five years. The case took ten months to come to court and was finally heard in October 1997. When people asked me that year how I was coping, I said I had pencilled in a nervous breakdown for November. In the event, it didn’t happen. I didn’t have the time. Tamsin needed all my energy.
Tamsin went downhill quickly. The first signs were strange attacks, which she called freakies. They are difficult to describe. Her body was there, but the rational person that was Tamsin disappeared. Instead there was a frightened creature which threw itself at walls and on the floor, and scratched itself incessantly. I spent many evenings desperately holding her hands to stop her scratching out her eyes until the prescribed tranquilliser could take effect.
For a while, she underwent counselling and we got a brief glimpse of the old Tamsin – a normal teenager full of fun and laughter. But then she went downhill again. Two years after she first disclosed the abuse, she was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, where nurses found her scraping away at her wrist with a knife. When they took the knife away, she continued to scratch with her nails. She talked about hearing bad voices – the Doctors, she called them. One night, after she was discharged, I found her shaving the skin off the back of her hand with a razor. ‘Don’t be angry with me,’ she begged. ‘I didn’t want to do it. It was the Doctors; they made me!’
Five-year-old Tamsin enjoying a family day out
For six desperately anxious months, we worried that Tamsin was schizophrenic. But psychiatrists eventually concluded that she had been suffering from a neurotic, rather than psychotic illness. As new medication began to work, life calmed down and there were no more voices or self-harming. It was by no means the beginning of the end of our story; but perhaps it was the end of the beginning.
I, too, underwent counselling to unravel my confused feelings. There have been those who, on hearing our story, have expressed amazement that I had just accepted Tamsin’s word when she told me her father had been abusing her, without first giving Daniel a chance to have his say. I can’t explain it. Partly it was because I knew from reading about the subject in newspapers and magazines that children seldom, if ever, lie about abuse. Partly it was because I knew that Tamsin was a truthful person. But mostly it was that somewhere deep inside I had known instinctively that she was telling the truth. Afterwards, odd bits of behaviour and events began to click into place.
One of the difficulties when a relationship ends abruptly is that there is no proper closure. I never got the chance to say goodbye to Daniel. People didn’t expect me to grieve for him because of what he’d done; but this was the man with whom I had spent half my life. I came to understand that without grief there can be no final acceptance.
Another insight was the realisation that the pain of Daniel’s betrayal will never go away. Again the answer is acceptance, because without acceptance nothing changes. Daniel served six months of his sentence. Our only contact with him since has been through solicitors.
Today I can look more objectively at our experiences. When Tamsin revealed the abuse, some friends found it hard
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