Talking to children about porn

The average age a child is first exposed to porn is 11.

Every time I hear this statistic, I feel a quiet ache inside me. Eleven… That’s still such a tender age—a time of curiosity, playfulness, and innocence.

I’m not a parent, and I can only imagine how difficult it must be to navigate conversations like this. I know for certain I would struggle to find the right words... But I also believe this is one of the most important and sensitive topics we need to bring into the light, because what we don’t talk about, children will still find answers to—just not always from sources we’d want them to learn from.

I recently came across a passage in a book I’m reading that offered a beautiful, grounded way to begin a conversation with children about s*ex and porn. I felt compelled to share it here—not as a solution, but perhaps as a gentle invitation to open a dialogue.

Here’s what the author suggests saying:

"S*ex is an exciting and wonderful part of being human. It’s completely natural to be curious about it. And when we’re curious about something, we usually turn to the internet to learn more. But here’s the problem with using the internet to learn about s*ex—you can’t be sure who’s doing the teaching.

There are people who have taken s*ex and stripped it of its connection, aliveness, and meaning to sell it as a product. What they’re offering isn’t real s*ex. It lacks love, respect, and vulnerability—all the things that make s*ex truly beautiful.

This kind of porn is sold by people who are like drug dealers. It gives a quick rush that feels like joy, but it’s not the kind of joy that lasts. Over time, that rush can become addictive and can make it hard to experience real joy, from real connection to another human being. Just like drugs can replace the richness of life with artificial highs, porn can replace real, meaningful intimacy with something hollow.

Trying to learn about s*ex from porn is like trying to learn about the mountains by sniffing a pine-scented air freshener at a gas station. And then, when you finally find yourself in the real mountains—breathing in the crisp, wild air—you might feel confused or disappointed because it doesn’t match the artificial version you were taught to expect.

We don’t want you to avoid porn because s*ex is bad. We want you to avoid it because real s*ex—with humanity, vulnerability, tenderness, and love—is indescribably good. We want that kind of real s*ex for you."

 From the book Untamed, by Glennon Doyle

When I read these words, I felt my heart soften. It’s such a powerful way of approaching a difficult subject—with compassion, honesty, and love. It doesn’t shame s*ex. It doesn’t frighten or control. Instead, it opens the door to understanding the difference between performance and presence, between consumption and connection.

And most importantly, it opens the door for conversation. About the violence in porn, about the objectification of the female body and so much more.

Because not talking about something doesn’t make it go away. Silence doesn’t protect our children—it often leaves them to figure things out on their own, sometimes in confusing or even harmful ways.

We won’t always have the perfect words. Our voice might shake. We might feel uncomfortable. But saying something—even imperfectly—is better than saying nothing at all.

Tantra teaches us that s*ex is sacred. It is a meeting of energy, breath, intention, and heart. It is not something to be hidden or feared, but something to be honoured, respected, and explored with deep care.

I believe that this kind of awareness starts early. And as difficult as it may be, talking to children about the beauty and depth of true intimacy can plant a seed that may grow into a more conscious, empowered experience of love and pleasure later in life.

May we all find the courage to begin the conversations that matter most.

And may we continue to heal and reshape our collective understanding of what s*exuality can truly be.

Love,

Rosie x