Sex ed taught us how to label the parts. It showed us diagrams, terms, charts, and warnings. But it never showed us what it meant to actually live in a changing body.
No one talked about shame. Or confusion. Or why your chest hurts when it grows. Or why you suddenly feel afraid to change in the locker room.
There was no space for:
Why do I feel gross when I look in the mirror?
Why did I laugh at that word but feel something I couldn’t name?
Why do I feel like I’m supposed to pretend this doesn’t matter?
Sex ed was mechanical. Impersonal. Clinical. But growing up isn’t clinical. It’s awkward. It’s unpredictable. It’s a mess of questions and realizations that can’t be solved with diagrams.
So we learned in whispers. In locker rooms. In private browser tabs. In body language we didn’t yet understand. We filled in the gaps ourselves—sometimes through pain, sometimes through humor, often through silence.
Sex ed wasn’t enough. But silence was worse. And most of us grew up surrounded by both.