By Melissa A. Fabello
Our Bodies, Ourselves. It’s Perfectly Normal. What’s Happening to
My Body? These are all books that
we, as sex educators or future sex educators, know and love. We have them in our personal libraries; we
recommend them to our friends; we buy them for people as birthday gifts. We understand that they are pivotal, major
works in regards to teenagers and sexuality, and beyond those basics, we know
other works of non-fiction, too, that we can recommend to more advanced
readers, to parents, to colleagues. We
have entire reference lists typed up in our minds (perhaps branded there from
how often we have to cite them – APA-style, of course). But there’s something missing here, something
that could be, perhaps not more
important, but at least complementary.
Fiction.
Books that have been written on
the diverse topics of Human Sexuality are fantastic. Some of them – like the ones above – are
well-written as well as being informative, which is why they’ve earned a spot
in our “literary cannon,” so to speak. But
the problem with non-fiction is that you can’t feel it. You can understand
it and identify with it. You can use it
as a basis of knowledge or to explain the world around you, but you can’t connect with it. You can’t empathize or sympathize. You can’t become best friends with it. You can’t cry when something horrible happens
or rejoice when the situation has finally been resolved. You can’t have a relationship with it. But
with fiction, you can.
I read a lot of young adult
novels. I’m not sure if it’s because I
work with adolescents or because I long for the forever-gone days of my youth,
but I devour those books the same way that I do French fries. I can’t stop.
And ever since I was in puberty and discovered Judy Blume – Are You There, God? It’s Me, Melissa, And I Am So Glad That I
Found This Fxxxing Book Because It’s Saving My Life – I have understood the
innate power that literature has to help you understand yourself by
understanding other people, even if they’re just characters in a novel. And when I was in high school, I related so
much to the characters in the books that I read, not just on a superficial
level, but on a level that I thought was deep and enriching. The
Perks of Being a Wallflower (Chbosky, 1999) taught me that it was okay to
be an outsider. Annie On My Mind (Garden, 1982) helped me realize that my lesbian
relationship was legitimate and beautiful and true. I lost myself in books not because I wanted
to escape, but because I wanted to understand. And that relationship has yet to
dissipate. Because the special thing
that fiction does is that it doesn’t just give a name to what you’re going
through. It connects you to it. After reading Speak (Anderson, 1999), didn’t you, yourself, feel like a secondary
survivor of sexual assault after watching what Melinda goes through? Didn’t you feel like it happened to your friend? And
all of a sudden you can recognize the warning signs, and you’re suddenly better
equipped to deal with it on an emotional level?
That’s what fiction does.
I could go down an entire list
of books to recommend to people to read when it comes to issues in
sexuality. Teen dating violence? Try Rage:
A Love Story (Peters, 2009) or Dreamland
(Dessen, 2000). Eating disorder? Wintergirls
(Anderson, 2009) or Just Listen
(Dessen, 2006) or Brave Girl Eating
(Brown, 2010). Sexual assault? Twisted
(Anderson, 2007). Transgender? Luna (Peters, 2004). Lesbian or questioning? The
Bermudez Triangle (Johnson, 2005) or Empress
of the World (Ryan, 2003) or Love and
Lies (Wittlinger, 2009) or Hello,
Groin (Goobie, 2006) or Keeping You a
Secret (Peters, 2005). And on and on
and on. Because these books do more than
entertain. They normalize. They validate. They educate.
Fiction is powerful. And I believe that that power can be
extremely useful to us as educators, if only we learn to harness and wield
it. I think that it’s time for us to
create another reference list in our heads, another shelf in our personal
library. One dedicated to fiction. And I think that we can use these books,
either in conjunction with non-fiction or on their own, to touch the hearts of
our students and get them thinking about issues in sexuality in a more personal
way. I think that we can use that
connection to our benefit. In short, I
think that fiction could change the world.
So what are some works of
fiction that you’ve read that address issues in sexuality? Which are ones that you would recommend? How do you go about finding them? And what are some ways that you think that
you could incorporate fiction into the work that you do as educators?