About Abortion Series: 1 - Teaching Abortion in Northern Ireland

By Sara Haller, Education Worker at Common Youth, a young person’s sexual health charity in Northern Ireland.

To understand how abortion is taught (or more aptly not taught) in Northern Ireland some attention needs to be paid to the context of the region. To put it briefly, Northern Ireland was founded in 1921, when due to Unionists demands, it was partitioned from what is now known as the Republic of Ireland. To a wider British audience, the conflict we call ‘The Troubles’ may seem confusing and multifaceted (which it is), but what cannot be stressed enough is the nefarious and controlling role of BOTH religions on the development of Northern Irish society and ethos. One of the few things extremist Catholics and Protestants could agree on is what they both perceive as the abhorrent nature of abortion and anyone who supports it. This religious influence is one of the reasons that Northern Ireland (NI) has developed differently from the rest of the United Kingdom (Scotland, Wales, England) and it has shaped how we talk about everything, especially abortion. The 1967 abortion act was not extended to Northern Ireland which meant abortion remained a criminal offence until October 2019.

Delivering relationship and sexuality education to the community is my role in Common Youth, a young person’s sexual health charity in Northern Ireland (we also have a clinic). Faced with stigma (that was basically enshrined in law) our education workers were, in the past, unable to outwardly display anything that looked like a pro-choice stance before October 2019. This was not an organisational stance but rather it came from the very real fear of being faced with a legal challenge if we talked about how to procure an abortion. To be in any way linked to abortion was detrimental to the reach of our organisation. 

Operating under the banner of Brook from 1992 until 2017 we were held in disdain by some of those in the community. We were regarded widely as an abortion referral clinic, despite the fact our funding allowed us to only have a contraception function. Even being ‘accused’ of being a referral organisation was enough to alienate us from those in power. Politician, senior civil servants and other public people all spoke openly against our organisation, spreading the fallacy that we were abortion providers. This had a massive impact. We even had GP’s signposting to us, being sent to our door, bags packed, and shaking with nerves. These people had been told we could ‘put them on boat’ and ‘get them sorted’. In reality we couldn’t even give them a phone number.

Perceptions and opinions trickled down and many refused to work with us. We had people calling in asking for information, really pushing for us to give out numbers or help in any way. We couldn’t do more than tell them about the yellow pages or the internet. This may seem callous, but we had people constantly waiting for us to slip up. We had phone-calls and drop-ins which we suspected were tests for anti-choice organisations. The establishment (both society and governmental) did not want to have us operating in any capacity. They hated our sex positive attitude and regarded the morning-after pill as a form of abortion and it is only in the past couple of years that this has this shifted, slightly. Our senior staff were sent death threats and were accosted on the street on the way to their cars. This petty aggression really only served to strengthen the convictions of those they attempted to scare. 

In 2017, we reorganised and changed our name from Brook to Common Youth. After this we saw a growth in the scope, i.e. the types of organisations who were inviting us to deliver our sessions. We were puzzled initially as we thought rebranding would mean we would have to re-establish trust in the community. After some informal probing, it became apparent our new branding was free from preconceived baggage and this loosened the tight constraints the false perception of us had created. 

We move to the present day, in a slightly more progressive Northern Ireland. Whilst the law has changed it is difficult to say how much attitudes have shifted. Through my work as an RSE Educator I am on the front line between policy and people; teaching the law, and hearing the opinions. The programme we run is for 11-25 year olds and takes the form of three two-hour sessions run across consecutive weeks.  As an educator, I believe I am doing young people an injustice if I do not in some way discuss abortion. For some young people even speaking the word is taboo in their households. I am potentially their first – and only – avenue for fact-based information around the service. If you are reading this and thinking it sounds like hyperbole take a look at organisations like Precious Life, and the vast following they have online (I feel horrendous guilt even giving their socials any traffic). This organisation is also invited into schools to give “educational” sessions.   

Abortion is now something that Common Youth discusses in our sessions.  We leave it to the later sessions when the room dynamics have been firmly established, and when it would tend to organically arise from our discussions on pregnancy. The discussion in the room can range from the celebration of the change in legislation to outright condemnation of the pro-choice movement.  It is when I get the latter reaction that I find myself most excited. What I have found as an educator is that it is the young people who say nothing who are the ones that give me most cause for concern. The young people who bring arguments against abortion to the table are, at least usually, open to a discussion. I always praise their ability to speak in an open and respectful manner, and reinforce that the point of every debate is to reach a conclusion, not to offend. The session is probably the first time they’ve ever independently verbalised their opinions, and giving those opinions space in the room is incredibly important. 

Minds are not changed overnight, or in three two-hour sessions, but I do feel I play a role in helping everyone see the two sides. I have tremendous respect for the young people I work with, and it is easy to see the basis of their opinions when we take into consideration the lack of formal, regulated RSE in schools in NI. This means a lot of beliefs around sexuality and sexual health come from parents (who were often educated on the topic by religious leaders).  Abortion remains a treacherous teaching terrain regardless of location. Alongside our own uniquely Northern Irish barriers to educating around abortion, we also have the more global issues – including how gendered education around pregnancy in its entirety can become. We have a long way to come in Northern Ireland but, as romanticised as it sounds, I do genuinely feel we move a step closer with every discussion. 

My Experience

On 25th March 2020, the Secretary of State published the provisions for Abortion in Northern Ireland; my reaction is thwarted with mixed emotions. 

First of all, there is joy that the grassroots movement, spearheaded by Alliance for Choice, was successful in changing the draconian law in Northern Ireland. I cannot sing the praises of this organisation highly enough, their campaign was inclusive, passionate and reasoned, and it is because of the work of their volunteers that we have even come this far. On 22nd October 2019 a bill was passed by Westminster which decriminalised abortion in Northern Ireland and set out to create a provision for how abortion would be carried out in Northern Ireland. Until the passing of this bill it was a prosecutable offence to facilitate or successfully seek an abortion. This means that when I used abortion services in Manchester in 2016, I was forced to break the law in order to practice my right of bodily autonomy.  

The difficulties in teaching abortion is nothing in comparison to the hurdles one must overcome to actually procure one. My experience of abortion has helped inform how I talk about abortion and has fuelled my activism around the subject. In 2016, I found myself with an unplanned pregnancy.

Being unable to access an abortion in my own country (there were abortions being done in rare cases above board, and also some below board) I was forced to travel to England. This ‘trip’ cost me over £900 and left me in dire straits financially for months afterwards.  I had to opt for the more expensive surgical abortion, due to the fact it took time to get the money together, to organise time off work and to physically travel as well. At the time, I often found myself reflecting that money was the only thing that gave me a choice; no law or statute. Abortion was and continues to be a class issue. 

That same year a young woman was given a suspended prison sentence after she pleaded guilty to procuring her own abortion using tablets ordered online. She was reported to the police by her housemates who defended themselves by arguing “if you break the law you have to be punished”. For me, this story encapsulates what I felt at the time; of being under siege by the community I lived in. I felt like an enemy of the people, unable to even tell my own family or friends for fear of being harshly judged, or criminally convicted. 

My story is like any other, and for me the decision was easy. The hardest thing I had to endure however was the public shaming on the street by anti-choice protestors. How these people have the time, never mind the lack of empathy, to stand on streets and harass strangers is something I will never understand. However, what I do fully understand is the negative impact of their actions, and because of this I vehemently believe they should not be allowed anywhere near these clinics.  

Northern Ireland, through Westminster, has changed the law recently. One of the requests made by Alliance for Choice was to ensure that these people were kept a distance away from clinics. This request was not met. This was just one of many disappointments that came from the recent announcement of the provisions for abortion in Northern Ireland. Alliance for Choice were invited to the table with a clear set of demands: No arbitrary limits on weeks’ gestation; No two medic sign-off; No conditionality on health/mental health reasons; No barriers for victims of sexual assault and rape at any gestation; and Buffer zones requirements implemented before services begin, to name but a few. 

None of these were fully met. As with most things in Northern Ireland, the fight never seems to end, and so continues the fights for free, safe, legal and local abortion services for all. Through my experience of being a service user and my time spent working with young people, I have come to a hopeful conclusion: as Northern Ireland emerges from a dark recent history, I am proud of the steps we have made towards becoming an inclusive, progressive society. Through the work that Common Youth does we are helping to create an open space for people to challenge their opinions and grow. The law only changed last year, and already the air seems clearer.

Illustrations by Evie Karkera, unless otherwise credited.

Our book ‘Sex Ed: An Inclusive Teenage Guide to Sex and Relationships’​ ​ is out​ ​now.

Why ‘virginity’ is a damaging social construct

By volunteer Katy Elliott, With contributions from School of Sexuality Education’s Dr Emma Chan.

During School of Sexuality Education's workshops, students ask us questions about virginity, and these largely come from a heteronormative perspective. In this piece, School of Sexuality Education volunteer Katy Elliott explores this perspective and why re-defining 'virginity' is important for all.

When I was a teenager, ‘virginity’ felt like quite a big deal. I spoke to my friends about ‘losing it’ and I worried I would be the last ‘virgin’ left. I thought ‘losing your virginity’ meant having penis-in-vagina sex and nothing else would count. I’d heard about the ‘hymen’ and worried that when I did have sex, I would bleed and it would be embarrassing. Quite frankly, virginity and sex made me anxious and scared.

I wish I’d had lessons from School of Sexuality Education to set things straight.

At School of Sexuality Education, we work to dispel the myths surrounding the traditional understanding of ‘virginity’. We help young people understand that sex means different things to different people and there is no right or wrong way to have it. We encourage people to do what feels right for them (and any partner/s) and not feel pressured into anything. And we try to deconstruct ideas around ‘virginity’ which can be heteronormative and contribute to gender inequality.

So, what is a social construct?

Put simply, a social construct is an idea created by society. It’s not always something concrete we can see, like rivers, mountains and oceans. Instead, social constructs are how we humans make sense of the world. Social constructs are driven by the ideas and beliefs which exist in our societies. The pressures, myths and expectations surrounding the traditional idea of ‘virginity’ are very much the product of norms and ideas created by us humans.

Why is the social construct of virginity damaging?

1. The focus on penis-in-vagina sex erases other experiences.

Contrary to what the traditional understanding of virginity would have you believe, penis-in-vagina sex is not the only way to have sex. Human beings are a glorious variety of wants, needs and preferences. Sex can mean very different things to different people. The most important thing is doing what feels right for you.

School of Sexuality Education's definition of sex is 'anything that makes you feel horny or aroused'. This means that sex doesn't just have to be between a man with a penis and a woman with a vulva. It can take place between people of varying genders - the same or different to each other. It can take place between people with different or the same types of genitalia, even using different body parts. What makes some people 'horny' might not even involve genitalia (or other people) at all. Examples of sexual activities for some people include oral sex, anal sex, kissing, cuddling, massages, masturbation, and hand-play!

The traditional concept of virginity buys into the idea that the only type of sex that 'counts' is penetrative penis-in-vagina. This ignores the preferences, desires and lived sexual experiences of many people. In doing so it enforces a very particular heteronormative idea of sex and relationships on society.

In addition, many people with a vulva and vagina don’t orgasm from penetrative sex, and get the most pleasure from clitoral stimulation. But because our understanding of what it means to have sex is shaped by this idea of virginity, it’s often thought penis-in-vagina sex is the ‘main’ way to have sex, with the result that people don’t explore other parts of their body, for example the clitoris. Many miss out on a lot of pleasure because they don’t understand that other types of sex exist.

I’ve said it once, but I’ll say it again - the most important thing to remember here is that sex exists in many different wonderful forms and no single type of sex is the most important or valid. Regardless of your sexuality or gender, sex and pleasure is yours to define and experience in whatever way is best for you.

2. The association between purity and virginity serves to police women’s bodies

The idea of virginity equating to moral and personal purity has long been used to control some bodies - usually those seen as female, through a lens of gender as both binary and fixed. Examples of this can be found within ‘Purity Culture’. I spoke to my friend Katie Brookfield, an expert in this area, to give us her thoughts:

Virginity has long been a key factor in determining a ‘woman’s worth’ and therefore their bodies are heavily policed. The emphasis on virginity emerged as our ancestors moved from communal, hunter-gatherer communities to land-owning societies. Keeping land meant having (male) heirs, and therefore it was imperative that there be no question of parentage. The solution? Ensure that a wife or concubine is a ‘virgin’ to secure a pure lineage, land and, ultimately, power. 

My particular area of study is around the relationship between religion and sexuality. From Abraham to abstinence pledges, virginity has been a focal element of a woman’s purity and, consequently, their value. Whilst sexual purity has long been associated with religion  - in many ways because of the link between holiness and asceticism - it is in recent years that it has taken on a whole new dimension. Pervasive within the conservative Christian community, ‘purity culture’ has infiltrated not just churches, but schools, healthcare providers and even governments.

Proponents of purity culture are concerned with both physical and emotional purity, only allowing for two rigid, contrasting gender roles. There is a heavy emphasis on the purity of women and their responsibility to keep male counterparts from ‘stumbling’. They are both controlled by and the gate-keepers of this concept of purity. Physical appearance is heavily monitored, with strict rules on modest dress for young women who have to be aware of their hemline, neckline and even their eyeliner, to ensure men do not look at them lustfully. 

Young people are told to flee from the hypothetical ‘how far is too far’ line, yet this again is the responsibility of the woman. Men are painted as uncontrollable creatures who rely on a pure woman to keep their raging sexuality under wraps until the wedding night - an idea which contributes significantly to rape culture, FYI. Women, on the other hand, are taught nothing of pleasure and desire, but are instead told to ‘guard their heart’. They need to be as vigilant about guarding their emotional virginity as they are their physical. Why? Because whether physical or emotional virginity, a woman gives away a piece of her heart each time. She becomes damaged goods; a used, impure woman unable to give her whole self to her future husband. This ‘purity myth’ controls every aspect of a woman’s body: what they wear, what they think, and what they let between their legs.

3. The hymen is a myth

Like many people, I thought a hymen was a stretchy piece of cling film-like membrane which covered the vaginal opening. I thought it was the same for everyone and you could break it by inserting a tampon, riding a horse, or having penis-in-vagina sex. Turns out that isn’t the case. 

RFSU, a Swedish sex education charity actually prefer the term ‘vaginal corona’ which has no hymen-related myths associated with it. The vaginal corona is made up of folds of tissue and comes in lots of different shapes and sizes. If you deliver a baby vaginally, it can change and become less visible. And in very rare cases, it can cover the vaginal opening completely, requiring medical assistance because period blood can’t leave the body.

The link between hymens and virginity is a social construct. You can’t tell if someone has had sex by looking at their genitalia - the shape and size of the vagina doesn't change size with penetrative sex, nor does the hymen change from penis-in-vagina sex. You may have heard US rapper T.I. 's comments about accompanying his daughter to the gynaecologist each year to check her hymen (and therefore virginity) was still intact. This statement – quite rightly – caused outrage, not least because the practice of ‘virginity testing’ is condemned by the United Nations as a type of violence against women and girls. And also because what this young person decides to do with their body has absolutely nothing to do with their parent. 

In the book Vagina: A Re-education, Lynn Enright discusses how the incorrect belief that people with a vulva will bleed the first time they have sex can be very dangerous. In some cultures, if a person with a vulva does not bleed when having penis-in-vagina sex with their husband for the first time, this is seen as shameful. It can even be used to excuse violence against this individual. Because of this, some doctors in the UK and throughout the world offer ‘hymen repair’ procedures. The procedure involves stitching together vaginal tissue, which will break and cause bleeding upon penetrative sex. As with any surgery, this procedure comes with some risks. It’s also completely unnecessary from a medical perspective, existing purely because of social beliefs which mean it’s expected for a person with a vulva to bleed on their wedding night.

A new social construct?

Social constructs are shaped by human ideas and beliefs. They exist due to human ideas and beliefs. And they continue to exist because humans keep spreading these ideas and beliefs. In the case of virginity, this can be through sex education which puts a lot of focus on penis-in-vagina sex. It can be through religious and cultural ideas which are passed down through generations. It can be through portrayals of sex in movies and porn. And the dominant views and beliefs often win out, sometimes making social constructs resistant to change.

So maybe it’s time that we took charge and actively shaped the social construct of virginity for the better. By teaching young people that sex (and therefore virginity) means different things to different people. By acknowledging that all experiences of sex are valid. And the most important thing? That if, how and when you have sex has nothing to do with anyone else and everything to do with what’s right for you - and any sexual partner/s, of course.

**We have an online worksheet all about The Virginity Myth using teachable moment from Netflix’s ‘Sex Education’ (suitable for 16+) here.

Illustrations by Evie Karkera, unless otherwise credited.

Our book ‘Sex Ed: An Inclusive Teenage Guide to Sex and Relationships’​ ​ is out​ ​now.

Preparing to teach Relationships and Sex Education in secondary schools

Since September 2019, School of Sexuality Education has been working with academics at UCL’s Institute of Education – alongside other RSE experts and classroom practitioners – to develop and deliver a short course for trainee teachers. The course is the first of its kind, providing PGCE students with five full days spread across the 19/20 academic year to learn about the background and policy behind RSE in the UK, alongside vital topics such as gender and sexuality identity, consent, inclusivity and sexual health. The programme was developed as part of a knowledge exchange project with our partnership schools on the Secondary PGCE programme, to try and better understand the needs of teachers and schools in London in developing good practice in RSE.

This year, the course participants have included Social Science and Biology PGCE students with some specialists in Physics and Chemistry too. Student teachers opted into the course because they recognise the value of RSE and felt that developing expertise in the area would be important for their future careers in the classroom. The government has also recently acknowledged the need for comprehensive and up-to-date RSE in schools with the release of new guidance which states that the subjects involved ‘represent a huge opportunity to help our children and young people develop.’

During the planning phase for the course, we supported the convenors (Sarah Worton and Alison Wiggins of UCL’s IoE) in designing a series of sessions to offer core RSE knowledge and practical teaching ideas while building an awareness of what a whole-school approach to gender and sexuality inclusivity might look like. The intention was to equip teachers with the skills, knowledge and confidence required to deliver high quality, progressive Relationships and Sex Education. Beyond that, we wanted trainee teachers to feel comfortable in supporting students who had questions or struggles outside of the classroom linked to their gender identity, sexuality or relationships.

On day 1, Professor Jessica Ringrose delivered an intro to gender, sexuality and RSE then School of Sexuality Education’s CEO and founder, Amelia Jenkinson, delivered an interactive session about how to challenge heteronormativity in schools. She shared resources, key points on language and links to government guidance to support trainee teachers in understanding the context of RSE while providing pragmatic classroom solutions. On day 2, trainee teachers heard from Dr Sara Bragg who applied queer theory to our understandings and assumptions around education and young people. Following this, the student teachers heard from Lucy Emmerson (director of the Sex Education Forum) and Rachael Baker (senior RSE specialist at the Sex Education Forum) who discussed the government 2020 RSE guidance and interrogated the idea of ‘age-appropriateness’ in RSE. For day 3, student teachers were visited by Professor Emma Renold (Cardiff University) who shared creative ideas and resources for the RSE classroom based on her work on the Agenda positive relationships resource. All of these days were supported by sessions and talks from the course conveners at UCL.

The ranging perspectives provided by these different professionals, paired with the expertise of tutors and classroom practitioners, has provided great layers of insight for the trainee teachers on the course. One noted that ‘having the guest speakers was helpful… it gave us a community and showed us the array of people that are out there’ while another said ‘I loved having a range of people involved…it’s a really positive thing to have people who have different backgrounds and experiences.’

In the coming months, we hope to cement the learning of those first three days and will ensure that all the trainee teachers involved feel ready to try the ideas in the classroom in September. Being involved in the course has been a great experience for School of Sexuality Education – we’re thrilled to be part of a pioneering programme which is equipping the next generation of teachers with vital skills. We know that many existing teachers are keen to take part in this kind of training too. Like all subjects, educators need training to develop necessary knowledge, skills and confidence in order to teach well. In the coming months and years, we hope to develop opportunities like this one for all subject PGCEs and all teachers, wherever they are in their career. We want feelings of embarrassment to be replaced with empowerment, so that teachers can address important issues head on and support the young people in their care. We’re already certain that those involved in the short course this year will do just that!

If you’re interested in taking part in one of our future teacher training programmes, get in touch – we’d love to hear from you.

Illustrations by Evie Karkera, unless otherwise credited.

Our book ‘Sex Ed: An Inclusive Teenage Guide to Sex and Relationships’​ ​ is out​ ​now.

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Are you a current, prospective or trainee teacher interested in this course? we’d love to hear from you! please email info@schoolofsexed.org