Relationships and sexuality education (RSE) for young people are a contentious topic (Iyer and Aggleton 2014). Young people’s lived experiences of RSE have been extensively covered in academic literature in the UK and the USA, with a handful of studies from other countries including Australia, Canada and Brazil. In their 2016 systematic review of qualitative research spanning the past 25 years and concerning student experiences of RSE (N = 69), Pound et al. (2016) note a number of substantial themes found among many small (N = 10) in-depth studies on experiences with RSE through to a few larger (N = 248), though geographically limited (e.g., not national) studies predominately aimed at curriculum development and evaluation. Themes found in this review included difficulties that students experience in having their RSE delivered by teachers, the framing of RSE as scientific and/or within an implicit moral framework and the failure of RSE to engage accurately with the reality of young people’s sexuality and autonomy.

Further international studies have found that students believe RSE classes to be either overly scientific and biology-based, thereby de-eroticising sex (Allen 2008), or delivered in a way that promotes abstinence-only education and conservative values (Pound et al. 2017). International studies have also noted that students feel RSE classes are heteronormative (Ekstrand et al. 2011; Hatchel et al. 2017), dismissive of pleasure (Pound et al. 2017), and non-inclusive of alternative sexualities and gender identities (Formby 2011; Gubrium and Shafer 2014). While some studies have noted that students may find value in a trusted teacher delivering RSE (O’Higgins 2010), others have noted that students feel that their teachers cannot teach RSE adequately, often due to the teacher being perceived as uncomfortable with the subject matter (Ekstrand et al. 2011; MacDonald et al. 2011; O'Higgins and Gabhainn 2010). RSE has also been largely critiqued for being overly focused on risk-based sexual information, lacking engagement with concepts of pleasure, and underestimating young people’s capacities for making informed choices about their sexual health and activities (Cameron-Lewis and Allen 2013; Lamb et al. 2013; Oliver et al. 2013; Spencer et al. 2014). Despite a robust set of findings on students’ experiences of RSE, particularly from a USA and UK perspective, results have predominately been focused on curriculum development, renewal and evaluation without connecting those thematically identified experiences to broader socio-cultural and theoretical considerations, in particular the silencing discourses reified by RSE as experienced by students. Further, the existing literature has replicated a number of key themes related to RSE experiences but has yet to reproduce findings in larger national population studies.

Studies in Australia have explored the need for school-based RSE from a few perspectives: curriculum or policy (Ezer et al. 2019; Goldman and McCutchen 2012; McKay et al. 2017; Sanjakdar et al. 2015), students’ (Helmer et al. 2015), changes in knowledge (Ezer et al. 2020) and perspectives of teachers and schools (Smith et al. 2013). Australian research has also explored where students seek RSE information (Brown et al. 2012; Waling et al. 2020b) and, more recently in a larger national study, their experiences of RSE (Fisher et al. 2019a; Waling et al. 2020a), which found themes similar to those articulated internationally. Studies in Australia focusing on the voices of young people have also noted that young people desire comprehensive sex education and benefit from being engaged in the co-development of RSE curriculum (Johnson et al. 2016, 2017).

However, in Australia, as noted internationally, there has been limited engagement with and exploration of the silencing discourses of RSE within the lived experiences of young people (Barbagallo and Boon 2012; Brown et al. 2012; Pound et al. 2016). The silencing of young people’s voices and experiences of silencing discourses in RSE in Australia and elsewhere can be attributed to the notion that teaching young people about sex will encourage them to engage in sexual activity (Pound et al. 2016), derived from moral panics about teen sexuality (Angelides 2019; Iyer and Aggleton 2014). This way of thinking is problematic, as it fails to account for the various ways in which teens can and do learn about sex and sexuality outside of schools and parents (Mitchell et al. 2014), and it denies that many teens are sexually active to some degree before they reach adulthood (McKee et al. 2014; Mitchell et al. 2014). Engaging with young people is therefore vital as their views are necessary to help shape and direct RSE programs in ways that are relevant to their lives (Grover 2004) and that break the silence.

Contemporary Challenges and Silencing in RSE

Quinlivan’s (2018) work provides a comprehensive overview of the challenges that educators experience in developing RSE curriculum that can meet the needs of young people. Quinlivan (2018) contends that broader social politics concerning the tabooed nature of sex and sexuality and the contested terrain between conservative and liberal approaches to RSE for young people make it difficult to provide quality information that is also shaped by, or engages with, the reality and lived experiences of young people (see also Alldred and David 2007; Fields 2008). Drawing on Gilbert (2014), she also notes that sexualities in schools create a challenge in which schools will struggle to manage and contain sexualities as they continually push schools to their limits.

Additionally, Quinlivan (2018) contends that there are a number of reasons why schools may be nervous about being more progressive in their approach to relationship and sexuality education, including being caught up in an era of governments being risk-adverse (Renolds et al. 2015; Ringrose 2016), schools having to compete against each other for student markets where more conservative approaches may be more highly valued by parents (Quinlivan 2017; Ringrose 2016), subjects in which RSE would normally be taught (i.e. health and physical fitness) being largely marginalised and not prioritised for learning development (Leahy et al. 2016) and the difficulties that schools face in being able to effectively ‘assess’ and ‘measure’ RSE material that is largely vulnerable, uncertain and ambiguous in nature (Gilbert 2014; Quinlivan 2018). At the heart of these concerns, as Quinlivan (2018) contends, are sexualisation of young people debates (see Ringrose 2016; Ringrose and Renolds 2016), moral panics about young people engaging in sex and sexual activities (Angelides 2019) and the privileging of ‘youth’ over ‘adult’ knowledges (Robinson 2013).

In thinking about these contemporary challenges, we turn to the work of Michelle Fine (1988) who argues that there is an absence of desire in the manner in which RSE is taught and that this has negative impacts on the development of sexual subjectivities for young people, and in particular for young women (Fine 1988). Returning to this argument 20 years later, Fine and McClelland (2006) note that, while teen desires are certainly now visible in the everyday publics, they remain silenced or considered under a punishing morality frame in RSE programs. Using a human rights framework, Fine and McClelland maintain that RSE continues to promote problematic beliefs and hinders the sexual subjectivities of young people (Fine and McClelland 2006). This is achieved through a variety of means, including the promotion of abstinence and waiting until monogamous, heterosexual marriages to engage in sexual activity; the distrust of contraceptive options that enable safer sex; the unequal schooling opportunities afforded to young people based on a number of intersecting factors, including race, ethnicity, religion, location, disability, financial status, gender and sexual orientation among others; the violence, harassment and silencing that LGBTIQ+ students may experience through participation in RSE programs; and the lack of focus on student health and well-being outcomes in evaluations of RSE programs (Fine and McClelland 2006).

Such silencing, as Fine and McClelland (2006) maintain, results in higher rates of STI and HIV transmission, lower rates of contraceptive use and higher rates of teen pregnancy and places a “disparate burden on girls, youth of poverty, teens with disabilities, sexually abused young people, and LGBT[IQ+] youth” (p. 321) regarding accessing comprehensive RSE. RSE has not been found to lead young people to be more sexually active (Breuner 2016; Kirby 2007). In fact, a recent study by Fox et al. (2019) reported that “[U.S.] Federal abstinence-only funding …displayed a perverse effect, increasing adolescent birth-rates in conservative states. Adolescent pregnancy-prevention and sexuality education funding eclipsed this effect, reducing adolescent birth-rates in those states” (p. 497). Fine and McClelland (2006) thus advocate for an engagement with the concept of ‘Thick Desire’ which provides the possibility to theorise young people’s sexual and reproductive freedoms not merely from a perspective of minimal loss, but from a perspective that sees them as entitled to the desire in all of its forms; entitled to publicly funded enabling conditions across racial, class, sexual, [gender], geographic and disability lines (p. 325).

In other words, Thick Desire enables researchers to not only see what is missing in terms of RSE, but also enables them to say what needs to be in its place through engagements with young people as autonomous, thinking and developing young adults.

In this paper, we use the Thick Desire framework to understand and make sense of the silencing discourses young people experience in their current RSE programs, while paying attention to some of the contemporary challenges of teaching RSE noted by Quinlivan (2018). In addition, we add breadth to the framework by use of a large national sample.

Methods

The data for this paper was drawn from responses to an open-ended question, “If there is anything you would like to tell us about your sexuality education at school and how useful it has been for you, please write your comments here” as part of a broader survey exploring the RSE experiences and needs of young people in Australia. Our research question was to explore, through the lens of Thick Desire, what needs to be in RSE (or what is missing) as articulated by young people in Australia. Following a simple convergent mixed method analysis plan (Fetters et al. 2013), the themes were then descriptively articulated across sociodemographic variables.

Recruitment

The anonymous survey took place entirely online and used minimum quota sampling to achieve a diverse cross-sectional representation (see [Fisher et al. 2019b] for a complete overview of the study protocol). Sampling quotas were informed by two sets of targets based on the latest (2016) Australian Schools Census data—the first set included school type, gender and year level at school and the second set covered location (state/territory), with planned oversampling in the states and territories that have smaller populations (ACT, NT, TAS). Administration of the survey occurred through the password-secured online survey platform Qualtrics between April and May 2018. Data collection was promoted through Facebook advertising. All advertisements were approved by the La Trobe University Human Ethics Committee (18030). Facebook’s ad optimisation tool was used to alter distribution of advertising based on which were receiving the most clicks. Initially, all 14- to 18-year-old Australians were targeted, with revisions occurring as minimum quotas were reached; all minimum quotas were met and/or exceeded.

The advertising directed participants to the survey website where they could access information about the survey and click through to begin the survey. The survey began with the full text of the Participant Information and Consent Sheet. Consent was obtained by the potential participant clicking “I agree” and “submit” to continue. Screening questions were then asked, ensuring that participants were between the ages of 14 and 18 years old and lived in an Australian state or territory. The survey covered knowledge, behaviours and educational experiences; for the analyses reported here, participants were asked the open-ended question “If there is anything you would like to tell us about your sexuality education at school and how useful it has been for you, please write your comments here”. Comments ranged from a few words to entire paragraphs. Sociodemographic measures included gender (female, male, trans and gender diverse); self-identified sexual orientation (heterosexual/straight, gay or lesbian, bisexual, not sure); school type (government, Catholic, other non-government [aka, Independent], not sure); year level at school (9, 10, 11, 12 not in school); state/territory in Australia; and postcode, which was recoded into remoteness levels (major cities, inner regional and outer regional/remote/very remote [aka, rural]) based on the Australian Statistical Geography Standard Remoteness Structure. Average survey completion time was 23.4 min with a range of 10 to 60 min. Upon completion, participants were thanked for their time and provided with information on services and resources, including contact details for the Kids Helpline and Lifeline.

The Sample

A total of 8263 participants completed the full survey including the option open-ended question for analysis; a full description of the entire sample can be found elsewhere (Fisher et al. 2019b). Of the total sample, 20.1% (n = 1258) chose to answer the open-ended question on sexuality education with a substantive comment relevant to the current analyses (respondents who made an insubstantial or irrelevant comment such as ‘no comment’ or ‘it sucked’ were excluded).

Table 1 shows the demographic characteristics of the sample of people who chose to answer the qualitative question. The majority of young people writing comments were female (60.7%, n = 764), in year/grade 11 or 12 (61.4% n = 763), attended a government school (50.1%, n = 516) and self-identified as heterosexual/straight (54.1%, n = 677). Participants who provided a written comment and who identified as trans or gender diverse made up 5.8% of the sample (n = 73). There was a good distribution across states and territories with an oversample of smaller jurisdictions (see Table 1). The majority of responders (80.1%, n = 1008) indicated that they recalled having some form of RSE at school.

Table 1 Demographic characteristics of participants (N = 1258)
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Analysis

The overall analysis plan comprised a simple convergent mixed methods approach (Fetters et al. 2013) whereby quantitative and qualitative data were collected in parallel via the survey. Data integration involved first qualitatively analysing the open-ended comments (phase 1) and then conducting descriptive quantitative analyses (phase 2), linking participants’ coded themes to their sociodemographic data in order to provide a more robust set of findings.

Qualitative analyses (phase 1) were purposefully restricted to the single open-ended question in order to privilege young people’s views of RSE and not those as worded by the researchers in closed-ended quantitative questions; the authors believed to do otherwise would invoke institutional privileges, which would reify silencing discourses and detract from a Thick Desire perspective. Qualitative responses to the survey question “If there is anything you would like to tell us about your sexuality education at school and how useful it has been for you, please write your comments here” were entered into NVivo for coding, using thematic analysis techniques as outlined by Braun and Clark (2006). Authors 3 and 4 completed the first two stages of analysis, which was familiarising themselves with the data (stage 1) and defining initial descriptive themes (stage 2). Authors 3 and 4 conducted the initial coding with these initial descriptive themes as the starting analysis framework (see Fisher et al. 2019a): (1) usefulness and relevance of RSE; (2) timing frequency, sufficiency and duration of RSE; (3) student knowledge, attitudes and beliefs about RSE; (4) school type; (5) effectiveness of the approach of the person teaching RSE; (5) desire for RSE; (6) content explored in RSE curricula; and (7) beyond the classroom, where students sought information about sex and sexual practices outside of their classroom. Coding discrepancies between authors 3 and 4 were handled by discussing differences and reaching negotiated consensus on the final coding (Bradley et al. 2007).

Author 1 then reviewed the codes and began the process of analysing the data to search for the analytical themes (stage 3). This involved re-examining the existing codes and looking for how young people described their need for RSE, paying particular attention to emerging discourses and patterns within the data. Authors 1 and 2 then reviewed these themes to ensure their coherency and relevancy to the research question and each other (stage 4). Themes were periodically discussed in group meetings with all authors present to ensure agreement. These analytical themes were then re-categorised from the headings above to ‘experiences of RSE (positive and negative)’, which was broken down into further sub-themes, and ‘desire for RSE’. This paper deals specifically with the theme ‘desire for RSE’. Author 1 took this particular theme and broke it down further into a number of sub-themes to understand what the desire for RSE looks like for young people in Australia (stage 5) and completed the initial writing up of the material (stage 6). Analytical rigour and trustworthiness were fostered through data saturation and careful qualitative analysis, which includes crosschecking emergent themes with previously analysed transcripts—the constant comparison method—and independent analysis of data by four researchers (see Elo et al. 2014). The discussion that follows engages findings with a Thick Desire framework.

Phase 2 analyses involved descriptive statistics of sociodemographics denoting how many participants made a relevant comment in each major thematic area. Chi-squares were then conducted to determine sociodemographic differences across each theme. Quantitative results were then integrated into the qualitative results to develop a more robust understanding of the overall findings for each theme (Fetters et al. 2013).

Findings

Students highlighted a range of important things that they wanted out of their RSE. The themes presented below are the dominant responses.

Table 2 highlights the major themes relating to what young people want from their RSE in Australia, including (1) more discussions concerning STIs, BBVs and associated sexual health matters such as reproduction; (2) education that is LGBTIQ+ inclusive; (3) that RSE is delivered by qualified educators; (4) discussions of consent and relationships; and (5) discussions of pleasure, sex positivity, and mechanics of sex. Some participant statements covered more than one of them; therefore, coding was not mutually exclusive.

Table 2 Themes and subthemes
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Table 3 highlights the statistical breakdown of these themes by key sociodemographic variables (gender, sexual orientation and school type); no statistically significant differences were found by year/grade in school, state/territory or remoteness classification. Quantitative results have been incorporated into the qualitative findings by theme. Quotations have been edited for clarity and all identifying information has been removed. Gender identity, age, sexual orientation, year level (grade) in school and state or territory have been noted for each quotation.

Table 3 Desire for SRE themes by key demographics (N = 1258)
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STIs, HIV, HPV and Reproductive Health

More than two-thirds (37.3%) of the sample noted wanting more information about safe sex practices and reproductive health with significantly more heterosexual/straight students (X2 (2, N = 1251) = 16.907, p < 0.01) commenting on such a need, though overall comments were similar across sexual orientations. Many participants noted that education that did discuss STIs and HIV was not very clear about how different infections/viruses could be transmitted, or who was most at risk:

I would not know if I had an STD or STI as I don’t know the symptoms or what to be looking for… I feel quite shocked that I genuinely had no idea what half of this survey is about but it was literally all related to what I should know and should be doing. Sure I know about safe sex etc. but shouldn’t I know about the consequences that aren’t just pregnancy such as HPV or STI’s. There is inadequate education on sexual and general reproductive health. (woman, 16, heterosexual, year 11, New South Wales).

There’s also a lot of misconceptions about gay male sex in relationship to STIs such as HIV. It should be understood that an STI can be transmitted to anyone, and it should be understood how it can be transmitted and what prevents it. Sexual education in health class is also very poor as we usually spend [only] a few lessons on it. (woman, 16, bisexual, year 11, South Australia).

In relation to STIs, school education was crap too. Apart from the fact everything they mentioned was for straight people, I still don't know how to put on a condom, which STIs are dangerous, how to properly protect myself from STIs, what type of sex transmits STIs and what doesn't and when to use a condom and other prevention methods. (man, 18, gay, post-school, New South Wales).

Some participants noted wanting much more information around different kinds of STIs and blood-borne viruses, such as hepatitis and HIV, and how to engage safely in a variety of sexual practices:

Focused mostly on avoiding pregnancy but had some content on avoiding STI. Heteronormative and only focused on Penis-Vaginal sex. (man, 18, not sure, post-school, Victoria).

It was barely useful. I knew next to nothing about STI's and even after looking into it myself I only have very limited knowledge. Nothing was taught about same sex couples and sex was greatly discouraged and frowned upon those who did it as I went to a Christian school. (woman, 16, bisexual, year 12, Western Australia).

It was really bad and we learnt about everything simply for about a week and that was it. We barely got information on STD’s STI’s and any other health issue that can be related to sexual health. Also we learnt basically nothing [on] relationships. (woman, 16, heterosexual, year 11, New South Wales).

Participants stated that RSE needs to be reframed to shift away from gender binaries and heteronormativity and focus more on different sexual activities, how those can lead to different STI or BBV infections and how they can have safer sex. Indeed, as one participant notes, the focus on STI and HIV transmission for men who have sex with men (and little focus on how others may potentially contract or transmit an infection) may be due to broader discourses that have pathologised men who have sex with men, such as public discourses concerning HIV/AIDs of the 1980s and 1990s by heterosexual communities (Altman, 2003). Perhaps due to RSE focusing primarily on ways in which STIs and HIV can be transmitted between men, young people noted feeling unprepared in sexual encounters with other genders, such as women who have sex with women, and varying kinds of sexual activities that are not focused on penile-sex intercourse. The invisibility of women’s sex with women is long documented, and studies have noted women feeling unsure about their risk for contracting a potential STI or HIV (Power et al. 2009). Additionally, it may also relate to the broader gendered discourse that believes young women should not be engaging in casual sexual activity (Ringrose and Renolds 2012) and thus may not be seen as at risk for contracting an STI or HIV. Given the overall lack of differences in the gender, school type, year/grade level, state/territory, and remoteness for those who made comments on STIs, HIV, HPV, and reproductive health, issues of gendered discourses and heteronormativity in this space may be relatively consistent across Australian schools, particularly the latter as noted in the next theme.

LGBTIQ+ Specific Needs

Of the participants who chose to answer the open-ended question on RSE, 37.9% (n = 474) identified a gay, lesbian or bisexual identity and 5.8% (n = 73) identified as trans and/or gender diverse. Nearly one-third of participants (29.9%, n = 376) noted that they wanted RSE that was inclusive of same-sex attraction and diverse gender identities. Such desires were noted significantly more by LGB identifying persons (X2 (3, N = 1251) = 372.766, p < 0.01) and trans and gender diverse students (X2 (2, N = 1258) = 77.030, p < 0.01), though the few comments made by heterosexual/straight participants echoed their sentiments.

There have always been tokenistic efforts to make it LGBT[IQ+] inclusive but it often comes off as a disclaimer ("look we're inclusive") or just ineffectual. There are diverse needs for LGBT[IQ +] people in relationship and sex education that are not catered for with just saying "your girlfriend OR boyfriend." (woman, 18, heterosexual, year 12, Victoria).

We need Queer inclusive sex-Ed, and sex-Ed that acknowledges that female partners also experience pleasure. I shouldn’t have to learn about dental dams from a lesbian friend. They should be taught just like condoms. Safe anal sex is also important. And don’t separate the girls from the boys when it comes to menstruation—too many boys don’t know what it is and it’s so important for them and their future relationships/friendships that they know what it is and that it’s not disgusting. (trans man, 17, bisexual, post-school, Australian Capital Territory).

Need more inclusiveness for non-binary people and for LGBT[I]Q[+] community, more explanation about pleasure and understanding sex. (man, 15, bisexual, year 11, Western Australia).

Such inclusion was not only about recognising LGBTIQ+ people, but also providing educational material about LGBTIQ+ lives relating to sex, sexual practices and intimate relationships:

I feel they need to talk about gay/lesbian relationships both romantic and physical more than they do. (woman, 17, bisexual, year 12, Victoria).

As someone who is a member of the LGB[TIQ+] community and a female in a sexual relationship with a female, I wish there was more education about sexual relationships with same-sex couples. For example, different forms of protection, like dental dams or the glove, etc. or how sex works for same sex couples like anal sex, oral sex and fingering, how it should be done safely and comfortably and actual education about pleasure rather than demonising sex and trying to stop young people from having it, because most of them probably will. (woman, 16, bisexual, year 11, South Australia).

At my school we had brief sexual education over the early years of high school. This information mostly only included heterosexual relationships and did not at all speak about gay/lesbian relationships. (woman, 18, bisexual post-school, South Australia).

Similar to what Fine (1988) and what Fine and McClelland (2006) note regarding silencing around talk of female pleasure, silencing around LGBTIQ+ material is perhaps reflective of broader concerns that such education may ‘turn’ young people LGBTIQ+, an artefact of a society that diminishes, pathologises and devalues LGBTIQ+ people more broadly. The desire for such material to be included is perhaps indicative of increased visibility and acceptance of LGBTIQ+ people in Australian society, such as the recent implementation of marriage equality in 2017 (Ecker and Bennett 2017). Such national social change may be reflected in the lack of differences across year/grade level in school, state/territory and remoteness of students narrating such desires. However, religious doctrine may still be perpetuating social stigmas, as significantly fewer Catholic school students (X2 (2, N = 1001) = 13.149, p < 0.01) commented on these needs, even despite their greater expressed desires for more qualified providers.

Qualified Providers

Over a quarter of participants (27.2%, n = 342) indicated a preference for RSE to be delivered by qualified providers. Gay and lesbian (X2 (2, N = 1251) = 33.216, p < 0.01) and trans and gender diverse (X2 (2, N = 1258) = 17.512, p < 0.01) participants were less likely to comment on qualified providers while Catholic and independent students (X2 (2, N = 1001) = 12.190, p < 0.01) were more likely to express a desire for more qualified educators. Some participants noted that they wanted RSE delivered by someone who was qualified and relatable:

It’s shit. Get someone who specialises in it to teach not a sport teacher. (man, 17, heterosexual, post-school, Victoria).

The best class that I had had was with a substitute teacher who made the lesson relatable in the fact she correlated our lives to the children she had raised. (man, 17, year 11, heterosexual, Queensland).

My PDHPE teacher is older and experienced in communicating with kids, making talking to her about sex and relationships easier. (man, 16, year 10, heterosexual, New South Wales).

I often find having a teacher is a little confronting and I prefer a young person to talk about Sex Ed. (man, 16, gay, year 10, Victoria).

Others felt that external providers trained in delivering RSE would be preferable to teachers:

It would be more helpful if schools got local youth leaders or young adults to talk about it instead of a teacher. (woman, 14, heterosexual, year 9, New South Wales).

I don't find the school to be very helpful with sexuality education at all. Most of my knowledge comes from older friends or family. I think teenagers need to be educated more on STI's and HIV and AIDS at school. Preferably by speakers outside of the school not teachers. (woman, 17, heterosexual, post-school, South Australia).

My teacher was not very good and from experiences back in year 6–7 I had wished that they brought in an outside educator. (woman, 17, bisexual, year 12, South Australia).

Others advocated for a combined approach, in which teachers could be trained further and work with organisations specialising in youth and/or RSE delivery, or with the school nurses:

I would find it beneficial to be taught more at school and made compulsory to attend sex Ed seminars with community or youth organisations. (woman, 16, heterosexual, year 11, New South Wales).

Sexual education in schools are not as effective as they could be. I think we need to allow guest speakers to present information to students on disease, how to prevent it, how it occurs, what it looks like etc. (woman, 17, heterosexual, Year 12, Queensland).

A nurse would be better than a teacher. Our teachers can be very awkward and skip over things. (woman, 17, bisexual, year 12, New South Wales).

Young women were significantly more likely (X2 (2, N = 1258) = 17.512, p < 0.01) to comment on their desires for more qualified educators and/or that outside “experts” would be more useful than a teacher. The lack of significant differences in who made such comments across year/grade level, state/territory, and remoteness suggests that the issue may be consistent across Australia. The lack of focus on female pleasure (Fine 1988; Fine and McClelland 2006; Ringrose and Renolds 2012) as well as the tendency in which schools and broader society may continue to stigmatise people who menstruate (Waling et al. 2020b; Johnston-Robledo and Chrisler 2013). This may be partially the reason why a qualified external provider might be preferred who may be more likely to engage these topics. Additionally, qualified providers may feel less pressured or inclined by broader concerns that Quinlivan (2018) notes around conservative student markets for competing schools, and needing to provide instruction that can be measured and assessed, enabling a more open space to explore the ambiguity and uncertainty that is sex, sexuality and desire with young people (Gilberts 2014).

Discussions About Consent and Relationships

Some participants discussed the need for more information about consent and relationships (17.2%, n = 216), with gay and lesbian students somewhat less likely to do so (X2 (2, N = 1251) = 9.066, p < 0.05). Recent discourses, such as the #MeToo movement in Australia, have been promoting increased visibility and awareness of consent violations and sexual violence, particularly against women (Garden and Toffoletti 2017). There is also increased visibility and awareness of intimate partner and domestic violence that may include physical, sexual, emotional, mental and/or financial forms of abuse, some of which may be subtle and difficult to recognise (Sims 2008). Such discourses are prevalent nationally and often outside the sphere of school, which may be why a lack of differences for this theme was seen across all sociodemographics apart from the slight difference noted for gay and lesbian participants. These discourses may lead more young people, and especially young women, to recognise what they need a better understanding of in order to have healthy and consensual relationships, rather than the ones in which they may harm others or experience harm themselves:

I wish I had a programme to teach people for consent and most importantly the many different sexualities. (woman, 17, bisexual, not in school, Victoria).

Course should be updated to teach consent. (man, 16, bisexual, year 12, New South Wales).

There needs to be more of it, especially concerning consent and sexual assault. (woman, 18, heterosexual, year 12, Victoria).

Many participants noted wanting to discuss more about what consent looks like and how to practice consent, and information about unhealthy relationships and relationship/sexual abuse:

There isn’t enough information about how to have safe sex, about what a healthy relationship is (not enough information on toxic relationships or abuse), there is almost no information taught regarding different gender/sexuality’s. (woman, 17, lesbian, year 12, South Australia).

I think relationship education in particular—what’s healthy and what’s not, what’s important, toxicity etc.—needs to be emphasised earlier. I know so many girls who have been in crappy relationships from a young age (say 15) and it’s just not addressed. (woman, 18, heterosexual, post-school, Australian Capital Territory).

I think we need to know more about what a healthy relationship is. (woman, 16, bisexual, year 11, Queensland).

Indeed, as some participants noted, while there may be emphasis in SRE on not engaging in ‘unhealthy’ relationships, they also noted a gap in references to what may actually constitute a ‘healthy’ relationship, again reflecting a ‘silencing’ of information that young people (and particularly young women) feel they are in need of.

Pleasure, Sex Positivity and Mechanics of Sex

Some participants (14.2%, n = 179) noted not wanting a RSE focused on abstinence-only education, monogamous pairings, and fear-inducing messages. Aside from fewer mentions by gay and lesbian participants (X2 (2, N = 1251) = 15.469, p < 0.01), this finding was proportionally consistent across all sociodemographics. This may be the result of the way pleasure and desire is often silenced in RSE curriculum (Fine 1988, Fine and McClelland 2006) in contrast with increasing public discourse around pleasure and sex positivity, such as television that shows like Sex Education (Nunn 2019), and media commentaries on pleasure-focused websites, such as OMGyes (Weiss 2016). Participants expressed a desire for education that was sex positive and discussed the benefits, joys and fun of a healthy and active sex life:

Although more confronting for some, it could be more effective to give a greater focus to consensual and safe sex through frank and open discussions which also consider new ideas such as pleasure, gender and sexual orientation, as well as the removal of stigmas and dogmas. This could allow for the fostering of healthier sexual relationships, especially for younger teenagers. (man, 18, heterosexual, not in school, Australian Capital Territory).

I believe more needs to be taught about healthy sexual relationships as well as STI’s, STD’s and sex itself—including emotional, physical and health aspects. (woman, 14, heterosexual, year 10, Queensland).

Please teach students that sex is a healthy part of growing up and that they should practice it safely if they want to and they shouldn’t feel ashamed of themselves for enjoying it. (woman, 17, not sure, year 12, South Australia).

Some participants also discussed wanting to see material about sex that was not linked to monogamous and long-term commitment relationships, but, rather, also inclusive of casual sexual encounters:

In grade 10, it was contraception and abstinence based with little relation to casual sex and no LGBT inclusion. (man, 16, gay, year 11, Queensland).

Also wished I had gotten more information on experimenting, how to safely experiment with the same gender or with strangers and a little more on personal mental health around having sex (e.g. not feeling guilty or confused, how to know when you were uncomfortable or others were uncomfortable in situations). (woman, 18, not sure, post-school, Queensland).

Many participants wanted RSE classes to not only focus on reproduction, but also on desire and physical pleasure:

Instead of focusing classes on warning us about all the dangers inherent in sexuality, an open discussion about balancing responsibility and pleasure would be more effective. (woman, 17, bisexual, year 12, Victoria).

Less talk about consent and penises. More talk about female pleasure and orgasms. Should sex hurt? What if it does? Why doesn't it feel good? Etc. (woman, 18, bisexual, year 12, Australian Capital Territory).

Some participants noted uncertainty about how to have sex and mentioned that they wanted more explicit information on the mechanics of sex:

I feel as though people our age need to be guided more. many people my age and younger are getting into sexual activity but those who haven’t including myself have no idea what it’s like or what it’s all about. I lack confidences a lot. (woman, 15, heterosexual, year 10, Queensland).

Doesn't actually teaches you how to have sex, or clean up after touching yourself, or giving head or going down on a woman, how to foreplay correctly instead of being a dumbass machine who ploughs through it like a wannabe pornstar, etc. etc. Basically about STI's and consent, but no practical advice. Men desperately need it since their education is basically from porn, which makes for terrible lovers. (man, 17, heterosexual, year 12, South Australia).

The education I received didn’t prepare me at all for a sexual relationship. I learnt how to use a condom and that only bad things happen ever. Now I’m too scared to have sex from fear of getting my partner pregnant. Just getting more education about what can happen and the good things would’ve been great. (man, 17, heterosexual, year 12, Victoria).

Some participants wanted more education that looked at a variety of sexual practices and how to engage in those practices safely:

There could have been more information about sex for pleasure and how to keep safe (what kind of lube is safe to use when, what not to do when exploring anal sex so no one gets hurt, etc.) (man, 17, bisexual, year 12, Tasmania).

I also believe that sexual education should include (maybe only in later years) information about pleasure and how to achieve certain things as well as risk for injuring yourself or your partner. This may be why sex is such a taboo topic and rarely getting properly taught. (woman, 17, bisexual, year 12, Tasmania).

We were not taught about anything other than how to have safe vaginal sex and types of birth control. We were not taught about safe anal sex, safe oral sex, safe fingering, sexuality, safe sex toy use or even taught the definition of safe sex. I have had to educate my sexual partner that took the same education as me about safe sex. (woman, 16, bisexual, year 12, Queensland).

Participants felt that there was an expectation of knowledge around this, as though they should already know how to have sex, and that such expectations were detrimental for their engagement in healthy and positive sexual interactions. Indeed, as participants noted, silencing around what sex actually looks like, and how it can be practised, is perhaps reflective of broader discourses in which moral panics around teaching young people about sexual activity believe it will then encourage them to engage in the practice (Angelides 2019; Iyer and Aggleton 2014; Pound et al. 2016). Conversely, the fact that a large majority (85.8%, n = 1079) of those providing comments did not express desires for RSE that was inclusive of pleasure, sex positivity and even the mechanics of sex may be even more telling on the broader discourses of silence when it comes to the ‘sex’ in sex education.

Discussion

Participants in this study were adamant about their desire for further RSE, noting a number of issues they had come across in their lives regarding sex and sexual practices that such education may have helped. Applying a Thick Desire (Fine and McClelland 2006) lens to the various desires articulated by young people in this study, the silence of RSE can be said to be overwhelming. Participants spoke about wanting RSE, highlighting that they felt they had very little available to them in school. Reflecting on past experiences, participants noted silencing around RSE, a lack of available information and an assumption of knowledge. Participants articulated a desire for further RSE that encompasses a number of important factors. These include pleasure orientated and sex-positive curriculum, programs that are inclusive of LGBTIQ+ specific needs, discussions concerning relationships and consent, more in-depth information about STI/BBV and pregnancy prevention and more information about sexual health issues. They also discussed wanting RSE in a comfortable, shame-free and non-judgemental environment, noting that qualified providers could assist this process. Participants also indicated a desire for RSE that more explicitly discusses the mechanics of sex to assist in their understanding of how to provide pleasure to a partner, and how to engage in sex safely for all parties involved.

Despite the depth and breadth of the overall survey sample, particularly in matching key sociodemographic quotas (see Fisher et al. 2019a, 2019b; 2020), the subsample of young people that completed this specific item was less than one-quarter of the total survey sample, and, thus, may not be representative. As our sample indicates, the highest number of responses came from young cisgender women who identified as straight, bisexual, lesbian and/or gay. This is not surprising as it has been noted that women are more likely to engage in a sexuality research study than men (Dickinson et al. 2012), and it can be difficult to get men engaged in research and to talk about difficult and sensitive topics such as sexual health (Hilton 2007). A number of the participants who identified as trans or gender diverse also did not provide much commentary, though responded in greater proportions than men. As such, it is important to note that the results are skewed towards the experiences and opinions of cisgender straight and queer women.

The desires voiced by young people in the study not only shine a light on what is missing in terms of RSE but also illuminate what needs to be in place (Johnson et al. 2016, 2017). What is striking about this study is how young people in Australia continue to feel that their RSE is inadequate, more than a decade after Fine and McClelland’s call for RSE informed by Thick Desire. A number of the desires that young people in this study have expressed about their RSE echo findings of international studies conducted in the UK, Canada and the USA, as well as previous studies conducted in Australia (Fisher et al. 2019a; Johnson et al. 2016, 2017; Mitchell et al. 2014; Waling et al. 2020a; 2020b). Numerous studies have highlighted that students want sex-positive education (Allen 2007, 2008) that is delivered by external providers (Allen 2009; Layzer et al. 2014; Paul et al. 2010), which is diverse and inclusive of a variety of sexual experiences, genders and sexualities (Gubrium and Shafer 2014; Hilton 2007; Kubicek et al. 2009; Teitelman et al. 2009), that provides informative sexual health and safe sex practices beyond narrow definitions of sex as vaginal-penile penetration only (Kubicek et al. 2009) and includes discussions of relationships and consent practices (Javadnoori et al. 2012; O'Higgins and Gabhainn 2010; Rolston et al. 2005; Teitelman et al. 2009). Further, the participants highlight a need to engage with comprehensive RSE that may not be relevant to them when it is taught but can be referred to as it becomes more relevant to them in the future. Preventative RSE (such as encouragement of getting the HPV vaccine or discussions of consent and relationships) may ensure that early/first experiences are safe and pleasurable. This means that an important part of RSE should be concerned with supporting young people in how to access the knowledge, services and resources they may require. The findings thus note that Australian youth are well-equipped in understanding the intricacies of holistic and comprehensive RSE. As such, a comprehensive RSE program will better prepare them for sexual activity both in adolescence and adulthood.

Participants in this study articulated desires in line with Fine and McClelland’s (2006) concept of Thick Desire. This included sexual and reproductive freedoms and a belief they are entitled to desire in all its forms. This also included multiple calls for a sex-positive curriculum that privileges pleasure, diversity, and respect that is delivered by well-trained, qualified persons. Not only do these findings echo the conceptual work of Thick Desire and a robust body of international research, they add considerable depth from a national study lifting up the voices of youth with perhaps the largest sample ever collected on the topic of RSE. It is important to note the challenges in responding to the desires of these voices, namely the decentralised nature of school systems in Australia with each state or territory government having its own policies and curriculum for their government schools, which may not apply to Catholic or independent schools who maintain a sizeable enrolment, and the policies governing RSE in Australia provide wide latitude in the implementation to meet community standards. This may suggest that perhaps silencing of topics noted above, such as pleasure and sex positivity, consent and unhealthy relationships or LGBTIQ+ needs, is driven by broader discourses that perpetuate the silencing of discussion around sex, sexuality and sexual health rather than any one overarching failing of a centralised system. This could be due to a number of the contemporary challenges that Quinlivan (2018) notes (see above: contemporary challenges and silencing in RSE) in attempting to implement RSE in schools. Yet, despite the silencing, young people are aware of the knowledge they desire to have in RSE (Waling et al. 2020b) and are not merely ‘empty vessels’ to be filled with knowledge (Freire 2000). Young people have more access and engagement with many of these ‘silenced’ topics, such as LGBTIQ+ visibility, and greater awareness about sex positivity, pleasure, consent and unhealthy relationships due to broader cultural and public discourses that enable such access outside of RSE, and the rise of digital technologies that create more accessibility for information (Quinlivan 2018). Additionally, as Fields (2008) notes, more focus needs to be placed not just on STI/HIV and pregnancy prevention, but also supporting young people in negotiating and understanding the ambiguous and uncertain nature (Gilberts 2014) of sexual desires, power, and inequalities that can be tangled up in engagement with sex and relationships.

The findings reveal a consistently unmet desire for comprehensive school-based RSE. Unless schools and associated governing bodies accept young people’s sexual activities and move past moral panics about teen sexuality (Angelides 2019), “students will continue to report that RSE content is out of touch and irrelevant and will be less likely to engage in—and so benefit from—their RSE” (Pound et al. 2016, p.12). Our research highlights that young people are informed about their needs regarding RSE, and, echoing the concerns of Pound et al. (2016) and many others, they continue to be disillusioned by the RSE they currently receive in their schools and desire education that is far more in-tune with their current lived experiences. Further, the results of this study also highlight the significance of using a Thick Desire approach (Fine and McClelland 2006) by understanding young people’s desires for RSE as autonomous, thinking and developing young adults.

The findings suggest a number of future research questions regarding RSE. These may include whether it is more effective to train standard teachers to deliver RSE, or whether to have specialist RSE teachers; whether programs should be tested in terms of external delivery by youth workers and other sexual health experts; what elements of RSE programs may best equip young people for their future relationships and sexual activities; how desire and pleasure are best discussed; and how programs can be targeted to meet the diverse needs of young people—for example, those who are not sexually active and those who are actively exploring their sexuality among others.

Young people’s desires for a comprehensive, robust, sex-positive and inclusive sexuality and relationships education mirror international calls for policies and practices both in and out of school (UNESCO 2018). As a human right, comprehensive sexuality education (CSE) aims to equip children and young people with knowledge, skills, attitudes and values that will empower them to realise their health, well-being and dignity; develop respectful social and sexual relationships; consider how their choices affect their own well-being and that of others; and understand and ensure the protection of their rights throughout their lives” (UNESCO 2018, p. 16).

In Australia, where the study was conducted, national policy has been criticised for a lack of clarity and comprehensiveness in ensuring CSE addresses the sexual rights of young people (Ezer et al. 2019), a finding supported by the comments shared by young people in this study. National policy could be strengthened with clearer calls for a human rights-based CSE approach as a broad step to addressing the concerns raised in this study. At a state level, similarly, stronger policy language may further support teaching practices to address gaps in sexuality education in Australia. In turn, clearer and more comprehensive policy guidance at national and state levels could lead to innovations in practice through the redesign of curriculum and pedagogical tools to embed a comprehensive sexuality education more deeply throughout the learning process, such as a whole-of-school approach to CSE (Ollis and Harrison 2016). The findings of this national study provide further evidence to support changes to policy and practice to address the sexual rights and desires of young people.

Conclusion

Participants indicated that they want and need more RSE and desire one that is comprehensive and that covers a range of diverse topics in more depth. Research into sex-positive and non-risk-focused education is needed. Further, as this is the first survey with trans and gender diverse participants, future iterations of the survey will allow us to look at the experiences of trans and gender diverse young people around desires of RSE. Policy-makers in Australia and internationally need to engage with young people in order to ensure that programs are effective and target student needs; otherwise, another decade of thinly veiled silence will continue to undermine young people’s thick desires for a robust, sex-positive education.