Arushi Panwar has worked for nearly six years in reproductive health care and education, with a focus on inclusive sex education and creating safe spaces for open, authentic conversations. Credit: c/o Arushi Panwar

Sex and sexuality are a tapestry that envelopes us all. While each individual is a separate thread with different perspectives, we are all heavily influenced by the folds in the fabric. When you examine our culture, you start to see how multifaceted sex is, how entwined it is with the most fundamental aspects of our daily life—our safety, health, and society. Sex is how humans are created. So why have we demonized our creator?

I’ve spent nearly six years working in reproductive health care and education. From private universities to community colleges, I’ve gained unique insight through my work, and I’ve pinpointed the most impactful obstacles I see when approaching sexual health and education: assumptions and expectations, shame, and overestimating our understanding.

I always tell my students that you do not owe anyone physical intimacy. No matter your age, relationship, or culture—sexual activity is your decision.
The remark is followed by one question: “What if someone says their ‘sexual needs’ aren’t being met?”

My response? “You aren’t responsible for anyone’s ‘sexual needs’. If it is such a need, what were they doing before this relationship and what’s stopping them from doing it now?”

The reality is that sexual “needs” are sexual “wants” and having them met is a privilege—not a right.

After I say this, I can expect a wide range of facial expressions. Some are clearly concerned about facing accountability for their behaviors. Some show relief—finally liberated from an unquestioned internalized expectation.
Some can’t even make eye contact.

Where did we learn—where did our children learn—that they have the right to someone’s body? That other people have a right to theirs?

The sexual scripts we follow are as diverse as people themselves—and we must examine the factors that create those scripts. While teaching a class about contraception at a local university, a passionate student shared their opinion that it was irresponsible to have sex without a condom. So much so that people shouldn’t have the option of using emergency contraception (E.C.). While I was happy to see them taking our contraception training so seriously, it was also clear that the student wasn’t empathetic to the circumstances of those who may need E.C.

I explained that not everyone has the same knowledge of these options, unprotected sex can occur for many reasons, like a condom breaking, drug use, or rape. I want my students to have the understanding needed to support one another because, when something goes wrong, the first person they’ll turn to is a trusted peer. A step toward that goal was making sure they understood that E.C. is for emergencies, and emergencies happen.

Identifying and dismantling stigma is a crucial part of my job because, no matter how much time I spend educating people about sex itself, if fear and shame are present then people cannot be truly empowered to make the best decisions for themselves or when supporting others.

I told the students I had E.C. available and to see me after class if they’d like any. As I was preparing to leave for the day, the student who spoke against E.C. nervously asked me for a pack—just in case.

Some of the most critical voices are often well-meaning supporters operating on misinformation. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks is the “right” sexual lifestyle, because it’s a unique, deeply personal, decision for everyone. Rather than focusing on shame and stigma, we must embrace empathy and curiosity by challenging assumptions that perpetuate stigma.

Easier said than done because people just don’t know what they don’t know.
When working with different groups I start by asking “How much do you know about sexual and reproductive health? Do you think you have all the information you need?” I’m always surprised by how much people overestimate their understanding, and the pervasive lack of education across every demographic. Something that has continued to worsen thanks to the lack of adequate sex education.

During my first contraception lesson at a university, we discussed ideas on who holds more responsibility in avoiding pregnancy. Those who identified as female in the room quickly asserted that they held more of the responsibility since the physical, emotional, and economic toll of pregnancy was on them. The males felt like they were blamed because females can’t get pregnant on their own. While some of the males pushed back on this assertion, a professor said it was “a female’s responsibility not to get pregnant because they are responsible for birth control, and that should be easy. After all, it’s just one pill once a month,” (WHICH IS INCORRECT).

I explained that birth control pills must be taken at the same time every single day. Skipping a pill—or even taking it a little late—can result in an unplanned pregnancy. A few seconds passed before a grad student finally broke the silence.

“The same time every day? I don’t even brush my teeth every day. How could someone do that?”

People assume they know everything they need to know about sex in their personal lives but frequently forget to consider the unique individuals they are engaging with. We may forget how to have healthy conversations about difficult topics, but keeping an open mind and responding with empathy isn’t just for our own wellbeing, it’s for the wellbeing of those we care about.

For many young people, college is their first taste of freedom. Their first opportunity to stay up without a curfew, eat ice cream for dinner, and build platonic, romantic, and sexual relationships. And it’s our responsibility to ensure that they’re informed, empowered, and safe as they enter this next chapter. It’s time for everyone to meet their “maker” and face the realities of these discussions by having honest, accurate, and sometimes uncomfortable conversations. We can, and must, do better; the consequences are too great when we don’t.

Arushi Panwar has worked for nearly six years in reproductive health care and education, with a focus on inclusive sex education and creating safe spaces for open, authentic conversations. Passionate about dismantling stigma and misinformation, they believe that empathy and curiosity are essential in empowering individuals to make informed decisions about their sexual health. Through their work at universities and community colleges, they are committed to fostering understanding and challenging assumptions around sexuality, contraception, and consent.

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