Teen Sexuality: An Ongoing Lottery

The bell rang, signaling the end of 6th period. I watched Christina struggle out of her cramped desk, hoisting a heavy book bag over her shoulder. Was she...?  All the signs were there: dozing off in class, excessive absences, wearing the baggy uniform sweater long after summer clothes were in season to hide her thickening waistline. It was five weeks before graduation and Christina was on her way to becoming a single mother. Her struggle was just beginning. Once a girl becomes pregnant, everything changes – forever.

In my generation, a pregnant girl would be whisked away to a home for unwed mothers. There she would give birth in secrecy and shame, the adoption papers and sad memories (or recurring nightmares) the only mementos of her ordeal. Alternatively, she might attempt an abortion with results varying from terrified termination to botched infection or even death. If she kept the child, the albatross of guilt remained with her. Whatever the choice, it resulted in personality changes ranging from studied indifference to excessive concern, from gratitude toward any kindness to defiance at the slightest request, from unremitting groveling to continuous rage. Society demanded punishment for indiscretion and young women were expected to pay up.

Today society is veering toward that same moral code once the deed is done.

I'm reminded of Tracy who had her baby two years ago. I learned of the event on an early spring day through a phone call from the Dean of Students, implementing the school's emergency telephone tree. "You will probably hear it on the news," she said. "Tracy went out jogging along the forest preserve trail at 7:00 last night. She hasn't been heard from since. Then entire senior class is out looking for her."  

I passed on the information, then flipped on the radio. I heard Tracy's mother pleading – to kidnappers, pranksters, to Tracy herself.

Later that night Tracy's mother got a call from the downstate university. Tracy had taken a bus to tell the boyfriend face to face: she was seven months pregnant. The father of her baby had greeted the news with sobs and "I'm sorry."  He was there holding her hand when she called.

Tracy's baby was born in May. She chose open adoption where she would be permitted to relate to her child in whatever way she chose, designated simply as a "family friend."  But this came only after the distraught father almost sabotaged her plan by declaring he wanted to "raise" his child himself. The morning Tracy and the baby were to be released, no one knew whether the baby would go home with the adoptive parents or with Tracy. At 11:00 the father arrived and dramatically signed the release.

Tracy came from a wealthy family with accompanying expectations. Neither she nor her parents could envision her as less than a college student with all the trappings: dorm life, sorority membership and co‑ed social plans. She went to her high school prom, graduated with her class and entered college in the fall. Why not?

She came back to visit at Christmastide with a new boyfriend. I asked how things were going.

Her eyes darted at the fresh‑faced boy at her side, then back at me. "Oh just fine."  She launched into a litany of college fun. Her facial expression signaled that I should say nothing. The deception had already begun and might be there forever. "I should be more responsible, but I'm having too much fun," she giggled. But there was a shadow lurking behind her eyes and I wondered how often she'd been in touch with the adoptive family, how receptive they were to her and how many nightmares she'd had.  

Money made a difficult time easier for Tracy. For those without, the ordeal is multiplied, even when coming from an intact family.

Cheryl, Melissa, and Julie all gave up college plans and opted to keep their babies. Today, years later, they still are living at home, trapped for the next five, ten or twenty years by an act of defiance against those very parents from whom they were trying to free themselves. They are crowded into teenage bedrooms that now contain second‑hand cribs and changing tables. They work part‑time at minimum‑wage jobs at night when working parents can baby sit for them. Occasionally they enroll in a class at the community college. If they are lucky, they can complete the course and go on to the next. It all depends on whether their child becomes sick, if their car will run, if the boyfriend is still in the picture, if their parents can hold out, if they're not too exhausted, if they are not totally demoralized, if...

Each of these girls were good students but not spectacular ones. With lives fragmented, it's hard to focus on education, an item far down on their priority list. More important is sheer survival. They have kept their babies. They are good mothers. They love and are loved – but at what price?

April did go back to school but couldn't hold out. Subjected to a home environment that included an abusive stepfather, her fears now were of half‑brothers potentially abusive to her infant son. Never mind that the stepfather was out of the picture, or that her mother swore she would protect the baby. April was still afraid. Her choice was to remain at home, hovering protectively over her son or leaving him under uncertain care in order to work for minimum wage. Complicating matters was that April was only seventeen with few coping tools at her command. Education could have shown her alternative life styles, but with minimum job training and not even a high school diploma, her learning was limited to talking to friends equally unaware or watching TV. She loved her baby and he loved her in return – but again, at what price?

Of course, marriage is a possibility. But Sandy had watched her parents fight and finally divorce, and was determined that would not happen to her. Yet she yearned for affection and found it in the arms of Jeff. Only eighteen, she and Jeff had been together for two whole years. Like her parents, they too fought constantly. Her mother urged them to marry once she found herself pregnant. There were the usual reasons: you really love each other; you want to give the baby a name; Jeff has a good job – he will take care of you; you can grow up together.

Sandy followed her mother's advice and married Jeff in a lovely church wedding, promising to love, honor and cherish. But after the baby was born, there was even more to fight about: money, housing, independence, power. By the time Sandy reached twenty she was a divorced single mother on welfare. She was a high school dropout with no marketable skills, no family to fall back on and an infant son who took up an astonishing amount of time. Sandy was one of the lucky ones. Her father opened his doors to her, helped her get her GED, and showed her the daycare facilities at the community college so she could go to school and helped her find a job. Today she is one semester away from becoming a registered nurse. But she did it the hard way.

High school graduation does not end the problem. College students also have hormones – maybe even more. Added to that is the heady freedom that comes when living away from home. Add the alcohol flowing freely in the bars, frat/sorority houses or private homes. So while the coping mechanism at eighteen or twenty can assume judgment not present in a fourteen‑year old, the changing mores make it a wash.

In years past, college freshmen would stay up half the night discussing Kafka and Hesse. Today they worry whether their state will be next to follow abortion restrictions or worse. They want a child of theirs to have two parents. Many children don't.

Meanwhile our legislatures are plodding on, interfering between doctor and patient, assuming they know more. Sex is beautiful, but not for you‑‑at least, not yet, or at least until you’re married and even then, peeking into normal decision-making like sixth-graders in the school gym or returning to Victorian prudery as though it were more advantageous. But we can’t deny the invention of the abortion pill, of present health‑care or of a warm and compassionate doctor.

Americans have always been forward-looking. This is not the time to reverse course.