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emilycc's review against another edition
4.0
I'm really surprised this didn't get more press, because I found it interesting on a intellectual and political level and informative, thought-provoking, and relatable as a parent. Rough strikes a nice balance between personal anecdotes and research-based information (although I did wish she'd cited her sources a little more clearly). I think of myself as pretty liberal when it comes to sex ed and still found myself interrogating my own discomfort and hesitation. Lots of usable, practical ideas and some compelling big picture stuff too.
I do wish she'd had more suggestions about ways to push for broader social change, because one thing that really hit home for me is that I can do as an individual parent will only take my child so far - the culture that surrounds her will also impact her perception and understanding of gender, sex, and sexuality.
Very nice audiobook, too.
I do wish she'd had more suggestions about ways to push for broader social change, because one thing that really hit home for me is that I can do as an individual parent will only take my child so far - the culture that surrounds her will also impact her perception and understanding of gender, sex, and sexuality.
Very nice audiobook, too.
staceface's review against another edition
5.0
I read this one through the lens of being a Health teacher (not a parent) and loved it! I do highly recommend this one for all parents though, and not waiting to read it until they are older, since so much of learning about bodies can and should begin right away. It’s got lots of good information, but is also kind of a memoir with lots of personal anecdotes that keep it engaging.
eatingchipsrightnow's review against another edition
3.0
As a preschool educator, I was intrigued by the premise of this book to model and teach healthy, affirming sex-ed to young children, aiding in the development of their autonomy, self-understanding, and sense of their own bodies.
Rough is clearly passionate about this topic and committed to research; I appreciated the PAGES and PAGES of easily referenceable research in the appendix. And integrations of her personal experiences as a mother and member of both American and Dutch social circles, while not necessarily resonant with me on some levels, gave interesting perspective into where she as an author is coming from, and the ways in which the issues of "sex, love, and equality" intersected with her personal life. I appreciated her candidness in discussing her own journey as a parent confronting the way she was raised, and the ideas she had been indoctrinated into surrounding sex and love, and ultimately: the stumbles in finding a different path for her own children. For my own work, I especially valued the parental perspective. As mentioned by other reviewers, I found some of the ultra-specific solutions to issues I anticipate encountering very helpful: such as how to address kids "playing doctor": okay as long as these guidelines are met; everyone must want to play, nothing will go in orifices, and boundaries must always be respected. To not frame diaper moments as gross, or dirty, but everyday bodily functions (refer to diapers only as "full" or "empty") so as not to instill bodily shame in the children accidentally. Among many others, which I will remember and reference at work. These points of the book are engaging and thoughtful.
However. There were some points where this book did not do it for me.
Firstly, as committed to the research process as Rough is, and seeking input for the development of her writings (interviewing people, etc), she was not similarly committed to employing consultants for her work. Specifically, trans consultants and consultants of color. There were many bits in this book that were just disappointing to read.
> She makes an effort to be inclusive of trans identities, but makes many easily fixable mistakes such as "adolescents with female reproductive organs" -- Rough is clearly making an attempt to include nonbinary and trans people with this type of language, but misses the mark totally. Calling a reference to her first few chapters: naming anatomy is important. There's no need to be scared of it. Just say "adolescents with uteruses and/or vaginas." Or, if you don't want to reference anatomy Directly, but still be respectful to trans people: "adolescents assigned female at birth." That's only one example, but there. Options. Honestly, it wouldn't be so irritating if she didn't turn around to then state some truths about the trans experience, such as the idea that not every child born into a binary gender ends up identifying that way. There are just a proliferation of microagressions in the midst of liberal framework. This also concerns me because I think a non-trans reader may get the impression that the harmful phraseology she uses is okay to use themselves, due to that liberal surround. Also, I found it strange that she supported the idea that preschoolers are not ready to learn the difference between sex and gender, and that it is effective to teach their interchangeability, only correcting the mistake years later in schooling. Children thrive off concepts that build off of each other. Telling a young student something and then later saying that it’s “more complicated” only affirms that the previous idea was essentially true, just basic. In the case of equating gender and sex, it’s a lie. Just because some adults find the idea of trans people hard to swallow because of their social indoctrination doesn’t mean that children will. And if the concept doesn’t take? As Rough says, “children only take in what they’re ready for.”
> This book is EXTREMELY Eurocentric. Maybe being bothered by this is on me for choosing a book that is specifically focused on the Dutch approach of sex-ed, but I was taken aback by HOW much. There are continuous suggestions that the "European method" is the superior, and the argument that sex-ed should become more "European than Puritanical." I get the idea here --sex-ed needs to be freer, not more conservative-- but the Puritan ideology emerged FROM Europe. Other than a brief acknowledgement that the Dutch method isn't perfect, there are no discussions of its shortcomings or alternatives, or acknowledgement of issues within Dutch culture. In fact, her portrayal of the Dutch culture is one of an ideal, egalitarian society. Perfect. However, the Netherlands is far from this: more than a quarter of Dutch citizens report experiencing racial prejudice in the 2020 National Report of Experienced Racism. Where racism lies, other oppressive systemic realities proliferate too. This alone necessitates a close examination, and questioning, of the emergent Dutch sex-ed methods: questions that come to mind for me are, which students are these working for? Are the statistics Rough references only taken from the experiences of white children? What are students of varied backgrounds/identities saying about these methods, and how they are taught? Also speaking of the "American method" as a monolith and using "we" to discuss the ways that children are introduced to a culture of sex that is much more shame-based and secretive danced around the issue for me: firstly, Rough speaks as if everyone has experienced the same issues and has the same concerns in raising their children, which is untrue. Secondly, the issue that Rough identifies is one that directly stems from oppressive power structures, white supremacy being capital: the ideas of sexual purity, over-sexualization, and "preserving childrens' innocence" all harken back to colonial ideals. Although this is not her area of expertise (and because of that it, again, would have been very helpful to have hired a consultant, or co-wrote the book with someone who does), I think there was significance missed by failing to at the very least acknowledge that all women do not experience the world under ONLY the male gaze -- the way that she spoke of raising assertive and liberated daughters was very White Feminist. Some peoples' daughters need to also navigate their sexuality within misogynoir, sinophobia, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, religious discrimination, and countless other forms of oppression. I don't think just avoiding this reality was the way to go. In addition, there are realities existing alongside a lack of comprehensive sexual education curriculum that contribute to statistics she references. For instance, in terms of unwanted teen birth rates and teen STI rates, low income background is a defining factor. Also, intersecting/paralleling to this, systemic racism creates disparities in this issue as in every other. Addressing the issue of sex-ed to serve the white, wealthy student, from a white perspective, does not help those most impacted by it (Makes me think of the Seattle conversation curricula about puberty that Rough mentioned. It is $$$, outside of school, and serves majority white suburban populations. How much good is this program doing if it isn't expanded to be remotely accessible? Just giving another tool to students that have access to the most already). In general: this is all not something that one author can cover -- an acknowledgement/discussion of this by voices other than hers would have strengthened the book's exploration.
All of this weakened the book significantly, and made me wonder just HOW Rough could have gone through so many leagues of research and still ended with a result so entrenched in her own perspective. To be clear, I recognize the benefits to writing from one's own perspective, and appreciate the slice-of-life elements in this book, but especially in a work of nonfiction strongly believe they must be balanced with facets of the topic that intersect beyond oneself. There are brief interactions mentioned, but those are mostly populated by her surprise at what's happening in the classrooms disrupting her preconceived notions about specific communities, such as Muslim families and Catholic, Republican Latinx families. I'm left wishing for much more perspective in the way that sex-ed issues are being discussed. A lot of this writing can feel inextricably hedged in Rough's perspective on what is revolutionary and NEW as a white, straight, cisgender, middle/upper middle class woman. I think it would have been much more successful if co-written with other researchers (and/or mothers) of varying backgrounds/identities to add nuance to the discussion.
As another commenter said, this book also has a strange promotion of monogamy and discouragement of "promiscuity," which, as they mentioned, seemed antithetical to the entire message. I was jarred by one reason to support teen sexuality as a family: "to help (...) kids avoid promiscuity and practice respectful monogamy," going on to talk about the necessity of courtship in monogamy and integrating that into the family unit. That term "promiscuious" emerged from societal judgement over (women, specifically) having multiple sexual partners. If the goal is to encourage healthy exploration of autonomy, bodies, and sexuality, putting a boundary of monogamy upon that, and shaming teens for exploring outside of that seems, again, antithetical. Not everyone has the same desires for number of partners and/or a presence of courtship in their sexual encounters. I think Rough let her own biases impede her main argument here: youth need to be supported unconditionally in their explorations.
My conclusion: I appreciate the level of research that went into this book, and the vulnerability that Rough shares with readers. Ultimately, I'd say it is a read for those who know and accept upfront that they are going to see the issue of sex-ed only through Rough's (limited) eyes throughout the book, are willing to wade through that to maybe pull out some actionable items, and will seek out additional sources. And as a bonus: a built-in lesson on microagressions. ;-)
Rough is clearly passionate about this topic and committed to research; I appreciated the PAGES and PAGES of easily referenceable research in the appendix. And integrations of her personal experiences as a mother and member of both American and Dutch social circles, while not necessarily resonant with me on some levels, gave interesting perspective into where she as an author is coming from, and the ways in which the issues of "sex, love, and equality" intersected with her personal life. I appreciated her candidness in discussing her own journey as a parent confronting the way she was raised, and the ideas she had been indoctrinated into surrounding sex and love, and ultimately: the stumbles in finding a different path for her own children. For my own work, I especially valued the parental perspective. As mentioned by other reviewers, I found some of the ultra-specific solutions to issues I anticipate encountering very helpful: such as how to address kids "playing doctor": okay as long as these guidelines are met; everyone must want to play, nothing will go in orifices, and boundaries must always be respected. To not frame diaper moments as gross, or dirty, but everyday bodily functions (refer to diapers only as "full" or "empty") so as not to instill bodily shame in the children accidentally. Among many others, which I will remember and reference at work. These points of the book are engaging and thoughtful.
However. There were some points where this book did not do it for me.
Firstly, as committed to the research process as Rough is, and seeking input for the development of her writings (interviewing people, etc), she was not similarly committed to employing consultants for her work. Specifically, trans consultants and consultants of color. There were many bits in this book that were just disappointing to read.
> She makes an effort to be inclusive of trans identities, but makes many easily fixable mistakes such as "adolescents with female reproductive organs" -- Rough is clearly making an attempt to include nonbinary and trans people with this type of language, but misses the mark totally. Calling a reference to her first few chapters: naming anatomy is important. There's no need to be scared of it. Just say "adolescents with uteruses and/or vaginas." Or, if you don't want to reference anatomy Directly, but still be respectful to trans people: "adolescents assigned female at birth." That's only one example, but there. Options. Honestly, it wouldn't be so irritating if she didn't turn around to then state some truths about the trans experience, such as the idea that not every child born into a binary gender ends up identifying that way. There are just a proliferation of microagressions in the midst of liberal framework. This also concerns me because I think a non-trans reader may get the impression that the harmful phraseology she uses is okay to use themselves, due to that liberal surround. Also, I found it strange that she supported the idea that preschoolers are not ready to learn the difference between sex and gender, and that it is effective to teach their interchangeability, only correcting the mistake years later in schooling. Children thrive off concepts that build off of each other. Telling a young student something and then later saying that it’s “more complicated” only affirms that the previous idea was essentially true, just basic. In the case of equating gender and sex, it’s a lie. Just because some adults find the idea of trans people hard to swallow because of their social indoctrination doesn’t mean that children will. And if the concept doesn’t take? As Rough says, “children only take in what they’re ready for.”
> This book is EXTREMELY Eurocentric. Maybe being bothered by this is on me for choosing a book that is specifically focused on the Dutch approach of sex-ed, but I was taken aback by HOW much. There are continuous suggestions that the "European method" is the superior, and the argument that sex-ed should become more "European than Puritanical." I get the idea here --sex-ed needs to be freer, not more conservative-- but the Puritan ideology emerged FROM Europe. Other than a brief acknowledgement that the Dutch method isn't perfect, there are no discussions of its shortcomings or alternatives, or acknowledgement of issues within Dutch culture. In fact, her portrayal of the Dutch culture is one of an ideal, egalitarian society. Perfect. However, the Netherlands is far from this: more than a quarter of Dutch citizens report experiencing racial prejudice in the 2020 National Report of Experienced Racism. Where racism lies, other oppressive systemic realities proliferate too. This alone necessitates a close examination, and questioning, of the emergent Dutch sex-ed methods: questions that come to mind for me are, which students are these working for? Are the statistics Rough references only taken from the experiences of white children? What are students of varied backgrounds/identities saying about these methods, and how they are taught? Also speaking of the "American method" as a monolith and using "we" to discuss the ways that children are introduced to a culture of sex that is much more shame-based and secretive danced around the issue for me: firstly, Rough speaks as if everyone has experienced the same issues and has the same concerns in raising their children, which is untrue. Secondly, the issue that Rough identifies is one that directly stems from oppressive power structures, white supremacy being capital: the ideas of sexual purity, over-sexualization, and "preserving childrens' innocence" all harken back to colonial ideals. Although this is not her area of expertise (and because of that it, again, would have been very helpful to have hired a consultant, or co-wrote the book with someone who does), I think there was significance missed by failing to at the very least acknowledge that all women do not experience the world under ONLY the male gaze -- the way that she spoke of raising assertive and liberated daughters was very White Feminist. Some peoples' daughters need to also navigate their sexuality within misogynoir, sinophobia, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, religious discrimination, and countless other forms of oppression. I don't think just avoiding this reality was the way to go. In addition, there are realities existing alongside a lack of comprehensive sexual education curriculum that contribute to statistics she references. For instance, in terms of unwanted teen birth rates and teen STI rates, low income background is a defining factor. Also, intersecting/paralleling to this, systemic racism creates disparities in this issue as in every other. Addressing the issue of sex-ed to serve the white, wealthy student, from a white perspective, does not help those most impacted by it (Makes me think of the Seattle conversation curricula about puberty that Rough mentioned. It is $$$, outside of school, and serves majority white suburban populations. How much good is this program doing if it isn't expanded to be remotely accessible? Just giving another tool to students that have access to the most already). In general: this is all not something that one author can cover -- an acknowledgement/discussion of this by voices other than hers would have strengthened the book's exploration.
All of this weakened the book significantly, and made me wonder just HOW Rough could have gone through so many leagues of research and still ended with a result so entrenched in her own perspective. To be clear, I recognize the benefits to writing from one's own perspective, and appreciate the slice-of-life elements in this book, but especially in a work of nonfiction strongly believe they must be balanced with facets of the topic that intersect beyond oneself. There are brief interactions mentioned, but those are mostly populated by her surprise at what's happening in the classrooms disrupting her preconceived notions about specific communities, such as Muslim families and Catholic, Republican Latinx families. I'm left wishing for much more perspective in the way that sex-ed issues are being discussed. A lot of this writing can feel inextricably hedged in Rough's perspective on what is revolutionary and NEW as a white, straight, cisgender, middle/upper middle class woman. I think it would have been much more successful if co-written with other researchers (and/or mothers) of varying backgrounds/identities to add nuance to the discussion.
As another commenter said, this book also has a strange promotion of monogamy and discouragement of "promiscuity," which, as they mentioned, seemed antithetical to the entire message. I was jarred by one reason to support teen sexuality as a family: "to help (...) kids avoid promiscuity and practice respectful monogamy," going on to talk about the necessity of courtship in monogamy and integrating that into the family unit. That term "promiscuious" emerged from societal judgement over (women, specifically) having multiple sexual partners. If the goal is to encourage healthy exploration of autonomy, bodies, and sexuality, putting a boundary of monogamy upon that, and shaming teens for exploring outside of that seems, again, antithetical. Not everyone has the same desires for number of partners and/or a presence of courtship in their sexual encounters. I think Rough let her own biases impede her main argument here: youth need to be supported unconditionally in their explorations.
My conclusion: I appreciate the level of research that went into this book, and the vulnerability that Rough shares with readers. Ultimately, I'd say it is a read for those who know and accept upfront that they are going to see the issue of sex-ed only through Rough's (limited) eyes throughout the book, are willing to wade through that to maybe pull out some actionable items, and will seek out additional sources. And as a bonus: a built-in lesson on microagressions. ;-)
leigh_ann_15_deaf's review against another edition
4.0
This is about the author's personal journey towards self-discovery, cultural exploration, and parents' and children's navigation of taboo and knowledge, relationships, and identity. Rough brings up many valid points and research, all of which are important to fostering critical thinking and analysis, as well as implementation of theory and practice.
As a Deaf reader, I found one hiccup, of which I made the author aware. (She responded swiftly and positively to having this pointed out, but I am including it in my review so that other readers will be aware.) There is a jarring and highly disappointing use of the term "hearing impaired" on page 207. The correct term is "hard of hearing." The former is outdated and harmful.
As written many times throughout the book, language matters. Telling children and/or adults that they or an aspect of their identity is "impaired" (read: broken, insufficient, inferior, devalued) has lasting effects on their self-esteem. It took me 23 years to realize that nothing is wrong with me and that Deaf is a valid cultural identity.
Given how language-conscious the book as a whole is, I am aware that the use of "hearing impaired" stems from ignorance rather than intent, but it is still disheartening to see how prevalently and thoughtlessly it is being used.
Other than that, the book is definitely a must-read, especially for parents and for those questioning gender norms.
As a Deaf reader, I found one hiccup, of which I made the author aware. (She responded swiftly and positively to having this pointed out, but I am including it in my review so that other readers will be aware.) There is a jarring and highly disappointing use of the term "hearing impaired" on page 207. The correct term is "hard of hearing." The former is outdated and harmful.
As written many times throughout the book, language matters. Telling children and/or adults that they or an aspect of their identity is "impaired" (read: broken, insufficient, inferior, devalued) has lasting effects on their self-esteem. It took me 23 years to realize that nothing is wrong with me and that Deaf is a valid cultural identity.
Given how language-conscious the book as a whole is, I am aware that the use of "hearing impaired" stems from ignorance rather than intent, but it is still disheartening to see how prevalently and thoughtlessly it is being used.
Other than that, the book is definitely a must-read, especially for parents and for those questioning gender norms.
xanthe's review
5.0
I tend to avoid reading parenting books for the super craven reason that I hate to find out that I’ve been doing things wrong this whole time. Classy, right? But I truly want to do better, better compared to how I’ve been bumping along so far and better compared to my own parents. Guess how many times my parents talked to me about sex? Zero. Yeah. Super. But since I was super reader as well as super sneaky, I ended up more or less okay. But I don’t want my poor kids learning about sex from the backs of cereal boxes or from the wild, wild west that is the internet. Not without me weighing in on all damaging messaging and toxic standards that our society is wallowing in. Most of all, I want to make sure my kids don’t grow up feeling that free-floating sense of shame that so many of us did when it came to sex and our bodies. I don’t know precisely where it started or how to stop it, but books like this one Beyond the Birds & the Bees really helped me sit down and say “wait a minute. Why are things like when they don’t have to be?” Bonnie Rough doesn’t necessarily lay out scripts for talking to your kids, or tell you all the technical topics you need to bring up, but she relates out how she started examining her own prejudices and baggage and trying to diffuse the messaging that we all received that our bodies should be hidden, that they’re shameful, and that we can’t talk about such things between parents and kids. I read this book one chapter a day, because it was difficult to really confront all the ideas that she brought up and reflect on just why we as a culture have trouble talking to our kids. I highly recommend this book not just so you can figure out what to say to your kids, but so you can start sorting through your own hang-ups and better decide which parts of your own upbringing you want to keep and which parts need to be discarded and buried in the backyard, never to be shared or spoken of.
madis95's review
5.0
**5/5**
Really awesome. I loved her honesty and openness throughout the book with her own misunderstandings and confusions and struggles and her quest to find the best solutions that work for her and her family. Her research was narrow in the sense that it really only offered stark comparisons between the Dutch and the American perspective on sexuality and how (and when) to educate children on the topic, but it was also broad in that she took info from American and Dutch experts as well as American and Dutch parents. It was really nice to have this knowledge as someone going into politics as well as someone who potentially would like to have kids one day. It's a really awesome book for anyone, not just parents, and I highly recommend.
Really awesome. I loved her honesty and openness throughout the book with her own misunderstandings and confusions and struggles and her quest to find the best solutions that work for her and her family. Her research was narrow in the sense that it really only offered stark comparisons between the Dutch and the American perspective on sexuality and how (and when) to educate children on the topic, but it was also broad in that she took info from American and Dutch experts as well as American and Dutch parents. It was really nice to have this knowledge as someone going into politics as well as someone who potentially would like to have kids one day. It's a really awesome book for anyone, not just parents, and I highly recommend.
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