Monday Feb 02, 2026
Monday, 2 February 2026 00:00 - - {{hitsCtrl.values.hits}}
In our country, conversations about sex rarely emerge unless provoked by controversy. Even then, they are framed as scandal, moral failure, or individual wrongdoing rather than as symptoms of deeper systemic gaps. The recent public discussion surrounding an alleged incident at a leading boys’ school is a familiar pattern. Shock, outrage, speculation, and silence quickly follow one another. Yet once the noise fades, the uncomfortable questions remain unanswered. What are we teaching our children about their bodies, about consent, about respect, and about the law? More importantly, what are we not teaching them?
Sex education in Sri Lanka has long been treated as a taboo topic, reduced to biological diagrams or avoided altogether. When discussed, it is often limited to the act of sex itself, stripped of social, emotional, legal, and ethical context. Comprehensive sex education, however, is not about encouraging sexual activity. It is about equipping young people with accurate information, critical thinking skills, and values that help them navigate relationships and personal boundaries safely and responsibly.
One of the most glaring gaps is education on consent. Consent is not a single word or a one-time “yes” but it is ongoing, informed, voluntary, and reversible. Teaching children and adolescents about consent also means teaching them about respect, empathy, and accountability. It helps them understand their own boundaries and recognise those of others. In a society where hierarchy, authority, and obedience are deeply ingrained, these lessons are especially vital. Without them, power dynamics, whether based on age, gender, seniority, or social status, can easily be abused, even in relationships that appear consensual on the surface.
Reproductive health is another critical area that is inadequately addressed, particularly for women. Many Sri Lankan women grow up with limited or incorrect knowledge about menstruation, fertility, contraception, and sexual health. This lack of information does not disappear with age. Instead, it carries into adulthood, contributing to poor health outcomes, stigma, and silence around issues such as reproductive disorders, unplanned pregnancies, and sexually transmitted infections. When adults themselves are unsure or misinformed, they are ill-equipped to guide the next generation. This is not a personal failure but a systemic one, rooted in decades of educational neglect.
Legal literacy is also essential. Young people need to understand the laws governing sexual activity, including the age of consent and the serious consequences of violating it. More nuanced discussions are equally important. Even when individuals are close in age, factors such as coercion, manipulation, and imbalance of power can render a relationship harmful. Teaching these realities does not undermine morality, it strengthens it by grounding ethical behaviour in understanding rather than fear.
The current focus on scandal risks missing this broader picture. Public outrage may demand punishment or institutional accountability, but it rarely leads to long-term reform. Instead of asking only who is to blame, we must ask what structures failed and how they can be improved. Schools should be safe spaces not just in name, but in practice, supported by curricula that address physical, emotional, and social development in a holistic way.
This moment, uncomfortable as it is, offers an opportunity. Sri Lanka can continue to treat sex education as something shameful, discussed only in whispers and headlines. Or it can recognise that silence has costs, borne by children, women, and society at large.