All this talk of paedophile priests (and please, no fancy words, they are paedophiles) and their repressed sexuality has got me thinking about why this country seems to constantly have sex on the brain.
Over the last 50 years we have swung from one extreme end of the pendulum to the other: from being afraid to talk about sex, we turned it into something dark and nasty and secretive and now we have got to the point where we are flaunting it all over the place. In a way it is not too surprising in a nation which for so long was in the grip of the Catholic Church with all its rules about sexuality and what is not allowed. Rather than a healthy, natural attitude towards sex, whole generations were raised to think of it as something furtive and sinister. It’s no wonder so many people have such hang-ups.
Now, however, it is clear that we have gone completely the other way. Men pay for breast implants for their wives/girlfriends who are quite happy to display their new assets to anyone who wants to look. Can we possibly set back women’s liberation any further? Am I the only one who thinks that a man buying you body parts so that he can parade you on his arm like a trophy is simply demeaning? I look at these women smiling broadly and proudly because of their new décolletage, and I wonder what other parts of their body they will put under the knife next just to satisfy their man’s fantasies. (And please don’t tell me women are doing it for themselves, to feel empowered and to feel more confident. If two plastic balls on your chest are what it takes to make you feel good about yourself, something is very wrong.)
These days the best compliment you can give someone is not that they’re beautiful or handsome, but that they’re ‘hot’ – in other words, sexy. Lovely and pretty are adjectives you would use for the girl you would take home to Mummy, but being hot means only one thing. Facebook photo albums are replete with people striking what they imagine to be sexy poses, complete with pouting lips, suggestive tongues and of course, the obligatory cleavage, and in the case of men, their glistening, hairless six-pack. The age of exhibitionism is truly here. The problem is that the pressure to look sexy has spiralled bizarrely and dangerously out of control, afflicting even the very young as the boundaries between what constitutes adult and child behaviour become more and more blurred.
Young girls who reach that scary (for parents) adolescent phase are notorious for wanting to look older, as they start discovering their own sexuality, gradually becoming aware that they are attractive to men. For a girl who is 16, it is an immensely satisfying, almost powerful feeling knowing that ‘an older man’ (in his 20s) looks at her in that way. For parents who are observing these changes in their ‘little girl’ with growing alarm, it is just one more scenario to feel anxious about.
Of course, these things have always been. I think my father would have cheerfully locked us up in an isolated hilltop monastery somewhere when we hit puberty, and it’s a wonder he survived our teenage years.
However, in today’s world, raising daughters is even more of a nightmare. It is these young girls who worry me, because what they see around them is only encouraging them to use their sexuality as a means to an end. The problem is exacerbated when their own mothers are equally obsessed with looking sexy. I’m not saying a mother should not look attractive, but she should preferably steer away from looking like a slut. After all, what kind of a role model is that for a girl on the cusp of womanhood? I don’t know about others, but if when I was growing up I had seen my mother dressed the way some mothers dress today, I would have gladly locked myself up in that monastery out of sheer mortification.
No, most teenagers do not want to see their mother wiggling around with her breasts on show, as she flirts with every man in sight. They want her to look and act normal. Although in the remote back of your mind you know it exists, the sexuality of your parents is not something you want shoved in your face.
Unfortunately, it seems that despite encouraging girls to obtain their qualifications and university degrees, the message which is still being imparted to tomorrow’s women is that, ultimately, their mission is to snare a man, and the only way to do that is by wearing a Wonder bra and glancing sideways with a come hither look. Oh, and don’t forget to giggle and adopt a baby voice, so that it makes him feel like a man, and it makes you come across all helpless and charming, just waiting to be rescued.
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The thing is, despite my liberal views on most issues, I’ve concluded that when it comes to children I can be as conservative as Gonzi. The mistake many parents are making is that their desire to appear ‘cool’ and ‘hip’ in front of their offspring is leading them to abdicate their very important role as gatekeepers.
No, you don’t let a young child watch a film rated 15 because “they will have to learn about these things anyway”. No, you don’t let a little girl wear a sexy outfit because you think it’s “cute”. No, you don’t wash your hands of your responsibilities by allowing young teenagers to go to Paceville until all hours, when they are likely to be exposed to the seedier side of life.
As adults we have a collective duty to protect children and teenagers until the age of 18. There will be time enough for them to do grown-up things when they reach that threshold, but before that, what’s wrong with letting them enjoy their innocence for as long as possible? Each phase of our lives is a process, and sometimes it’s a good thing to be told, ‘you’re not old enough for that yet’.
This is precisely why the tales of child abuse that went on at the St Joseph’s Home are so sickening. Vulnerable boys, yearning for love and affection, had their young minds corrupted by those who should have been their protectors. Rather than safeguarding their innocence, their ‘guardians’ introduced them to lewd sex.
I cry every time I think about it.
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