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ARTICLE 10.1177/0044118X03254558 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION ADOLESCENT AMBIGUITIES IN AMERICAN PIE Popular Culture as a Resource for Sex Education CATHERINE ASHCRAFT University of Colorado, Boulder Popular culture is a key site in the formation of teen knowledges about sex. Yet formal sex education programs have largely ignored this arena. In this article, the author proposes the need to critically incorporate popular culture into sex education efforts to develop programs that resonate with teens’experiences and, at the same time, allow them to construct more equitable social relations. The author illustrates how this might be done through an analysis of the recent teen film American Pie. In addition, the author identifies specific implications and resources for broader theoretical efforts to reconstruct discourses of masculinity, femininity, and sexuality. Keywords: adolescence; sexuality; popular culture Adolescent sexuality often provokes public panic. Recent societal concern over teen pregnancy, sexual abuse, and the transmission of STDs and HIV/AIDS has bolstered these burgeoning fears. To address these social problems, educators and other public workers have employed myriad official efforts, including a recent proliferation of sex education programs (Haffner, 1998; Kirby, 1997; Morris, 1997). However, evaluators often note that these programs meet with little or mixed success in reducing teen pregnancy and in increasing safe sex behavior (Haffner, 1998; Kirby, 1997; Kaiser Family Foundation, 2000). In addition, this limited focus on effectiveness cloaks imporAUTHOR’S NOTE: Direct correspondence to Dr. Catherine Ashcraft at the School of Education, University of Colorado, Campus Box 249, Boulder, CO 80309; phone: 720-635-5817; fax: 303-733-2647; e-mail: [email protected]. YOUTH & SOCIETY, Vol. 35 No. 1, September 2003 37-70 DOI: 10.1177/0044118X03254558 © 2003 Sage Publications 37 38 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 tant power dynamics in scientific language, naturalizing certain representations of sexuality and precluding the exploration of other possibilities. Making matters worse, teens often decry existing programs as irrelevant to their real needs, questions, and lived experiences. In contrast, adolescents frequently rank entertainment media as one of their top sources of information on sex and sexuality (Brown & Keller, 2000; Kaiser Family Foundation, 1997). As such, popular culture is an increasingly important site of struggle where adolescents’ sexual identities are produced and where dominant discourses of sexuality are reinscribed and/or transformed—often in ways that are more meaningful to or effective with youth (hooks, 1994a; Whatley, 1991; Willis, 1990). For the most part, however, analyses of messages regarding teen sexuality in sex education and in popular culture have remained relatively separate. In this article, I argue that we need to understand how formal sex education and popular culture interact to shape teens’ identities and understandings of sexuality and gender relations. Likewise, we need to explore how adolescent understandings of sexuality might differ from adult knowledges, presenting new barriers to and innovative possibilities for constructing more liberating discourses of sexuality. I propose that we need to critically incorporate popular culture into formal education efforts to develop programs that resonate with teens’ experiences and, at the same time, allow them to construct more liberating sexual identities and more equitable social relations. To illustrate these connections, I first provide a brief review of literature at the intersection of cultural studies and critical pedagogy to conceptualize the role that formal education and popular culture play in shaping teen identities and broader societal discourses. Next, I explore critical and feminist work that critiques dominant representations of sexuality in existing sex education programs. Finally, I examine representations of teen sexuality in the recent teen-cult movie American Pie (Zide et al., 1999), illustrating how it might address problems identified in current sex education programs. I argue that, in many instances, the movie challenges dominant representations of adolescent masculinities and femininities and provides resources for engaging teens in important discussions about alternative discourses of sexuality. In this analysis, I contribute to two related areas of research. First, I enhance recent scholarly efforts in critical pedagogy and cul- Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 39 tural studies that theorize the relationship between popular culture and formal education. In particular, I suggest ways to develop sex education programs that move beyond a limited focus on effectiveness and, instead, help students develop healthier sexual identities and more equitable social relations. Second, I identify implications and resources for broader theoretical efforts to reconstruct discourses of masculinity, femininity, and sexuality. CONSIDERING THE POPULAR IN FORMAL EDUCATION Recent theorists have noted the importance of considering popular arenas and texts as important sites for education (Carpenter, 2001; Giroux, 1992b; hooks, 1994b; McRobbie, 1994; Willis, 1990). Educators need to recognize that “what counts as critical education in this country is not limited to the traditional sphere of schooling” and that this recognition “suggests a shift in both the way in which teachers define themselves and the sites in which they address their work” (Giroux, 1995, p. 300). As such, developing critical pedagogies and programs requires that educators consider cultural production conducted in multiple arenas and across diverse sites of learning (Giroux, 1992a; hooks, 1994b; McLaren, 1992). If these various connections are not made, formal educational arenas will become almost totally irrelevant to the lives of young people. As Willis (1990) observed, “Common culture will increasingly undertake in its own ways the roles that education has vacated” (p. 147). Cinema and television are particularly important sites for the production of cultural meaning and discourses (Giroux, 1995; hooks, 1994a; Trend, 1994). Likewise, students encounter these texts as pedagogical material and important sites for learning. Therefore, teachers and program developers in formal education and in sex education programs need to pay special attention to the ways in which representations of sexuality in these media cultures might pose threats to efforts at creating spaces for healthier sexual identities. Educators need to examine these popular sites for opportunities where students can examine and challenge traditional patriarchal, racist, and/or heterosexist discourses around sexuality and the ways in which these discourses position them differently. 40 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 In this sense, discourses are composed of representations, ideas, narratives, social norms, and practices that establish the dominant categories of knowledge (Bederman, 1995; Foucault, 1981; Hall, 1996; Mouffe, 1995). They constrain what may be talked about, in what manner, and by whom, holding individuals accountable to these predetermined social scripts. Thus, conceptions of sexuality and gender relations that appear as common sense delimit the kinds of solutions or alternatives that are available or imaginable (Bederman, 1995). Although these discourses appear natural, they are, in fact, historical and contingent. As such, they are simultaneously subject to a number of discursive practices that work to challenge and reconstruct them (Grossberg, 1994a; Hall, 1996; Mouffe, 1995). This results in instabilities or potential fissures that provide possibilities for reconstructing libratory discourses that offer transformative possibilities. Although these popular discourses are likely to contain a number of practices that reinscribe dominant discourses and relations, it is possible that these texts also contain progressive messages and content (Dow, 1997; Grossberg, 1994a). As such, educators and students should also mine these popular discourses for potentially transformative representations and resources. Teachers need to assist students in using these cultural tools to explore and fashion new identities and alternative discourses that help them make sense of the complex and contradictory conditions of their lived experiences (Grossberg, 1994a; hooks, 1994b; Weis, 2000). Of course, negotiating narratives and identities in this way does not occur in isolation of existing power relations; in fact, it is limited by these relations, the number of legitimate discourses or representations available, and a variety of other social conditions (Bederman, 1995; Roman, 1992). One such condition is that negotiating or decoding a text “requires differential amounts of work for different audience groups” (Condit, 1989, p. 108). Therefore, students and teachers are often limited by their variable decoding skills or by their differential access to oppositional codes (Bederman, 1995; Condit, 1989; Grossberg, 1994a). However, this does not disallow the possibility or minimize the importance of creating spaces for students and others to experiment with and devise languages, representations, or subject positions that allow them to rethink their experiences in new ways and to Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 41 develop strategies for overcoming circumstances they find oppressive or undesirable (Giroux, 1992a; Grossberg, 1994a; hooks, 1994b). In considering the intersections between popular culture and formal education, a particularly important limiting condition to note is the relative credibility ascribed to each. Traditionally, educators, researchers, and the public have placed less value on cinema and arenas of popular culture as valid sites for education or analysis (Giroux, 1995; McLaren, 1992; Willis, 1990). This is especially likely to be the case when youth and/or popular culture are involved, as in the case of American Pie. The tendency to devalue youth culture and voices is further compounded by a growing societal disdain for teens and their experiences (Grossberg, 1994b, 1999; Males, 1996; McRobbie, 1994). Given this climate, teen and popular discourses around sex and sexuality face uphill battles in gaining credibility. However, this very climate also makes them particularly important sites for analysis so that we might better understand the experiences of youth, the ways in which they are portrayed, and how these representations and experiences may be engaged to alter the current, official discourses around youth and sexuality in positive ways. With this theoretical lens, I now turn to an analysis of existing sex education programs, exploring some of the limitations they face in meeting student needs. RATIONALIZING SEXUALITY: A LOOK AT CURRENT SEX EDUCATION PROGRAMS Today, between 93% and 98% of students attending U.S. public schools will have received some form of sex education and/or AIDS education by age 18 (Haffner, 1998; Ward & Taylor, 1992). Of course, the goals, content, and time allotted these programs varies across contexts. On average, however, these programs emphasize the dissemination of knowledge and the development of communication skills that promote either abstinence or safe sex (Freudenberg & Radosh, 1998; Haignere, Culhane, Balsley, & Legos, 1996; Kaiser Family Foundation, 2000). Although instrumental in providing students access to important information about health risks, these sex education programs present serious limitations for the construction of students’sexual identity and 42 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 tend to reproduce inequitable social relations around sexuality (Brunner, 1992; Fine, 1992; Lamb, 1997; McLaren, 1992). Many of these limitations stem from what Morris (1997) calls the “utilitarianmissionary” orientation of these programs. The utilitarian aspect of these programs refers to their almost exclusive emphasis on providing functional information that will prevent pregnancy, reduce the transmission of STDs, and prevent students from becoming victims of abuse (Brunner, 1992; Kirby, 1997; Morris, 1997; Trudell, 1992). Because of this focus, information is usually limited to biological or technical topics, such as anatomy, reproduction, and contraception and is presented in language that is presumed to be neutral and scientific (Lamb, 1997; Sears, 1992). Likewise, this utilitarian focus also leads educators to disseminate universal rules that students should learn and apply in all situations—rules about how to say no, how to have safe sex, and when not to have sex (Fine, 1992; Morris, 1997; Sears, 1992). Programs are then evaluated in terms of their effectiveness in meeting these goals; those programs that do not register changes in adolescent attitudes or behavior in practicing abstinence or safe sex are deemed failures (Morris, 1997). Under the guise of science and effectiveness, however, current programs operate from an essentialist notion of sexuality as universal and fixed. Posing as neutral and scientific, technical and biological discourses mask the specific sociohistorical practices that construct sexuality and sexual identity, and how these practices position individuals differently (Grossberg, 1996; Hall, 1996; Trinh, 1988). These sorts of rigid rules and assumptions have “clarity going for them but little else” (Gateskill, 1994, p. 44). They do not allow for multiple solutions or interpretations in experiences of sexuality (e.g., ambiguous or multiple forms of desire), nor do they account for the ways in which these experiences and interpretations are shaped by a person’s location among competing discourses of gender, race, class, sexual orientation, and youth (Sears, 1997; Ward & Taylor, 1992). As such, these rules and discourses often ignore the inner world of teens’experiences and emotions and obscure the role of sexuality in maintaining power imbalance. To adequately address these issues and student experiences, sex education programs need to provide a wider range of representations and discourses that help teachers and students address their emotional worlds and challenge unjust social circumstances (Morris, 1997). Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 43 One of the specific representations that is denied students in these sex education programs is in the area of positive forms of sexual expression. Because of their utilitarian focus, these programs usually emphasize the negative consequences of sex, such as disease and abuse. In doing so, they typically place greater responsibility for birth control on the girl and caution against the aggressive, manipulative nature of male sexuality (Fine, 1992; Lamb, 1997; Sears, 1992). Noticeably absent is the discussion of any possibilities for female sexual desire (Fine, 1992; Whatley, 1991). Young women are given information and instructions on how to recognize the wily attempts of young men to get them into bed and how to say no in the face of such pressure. The instruction for young women is rather sparse or nonexistent when it comes to what to do if they feel like saying yes (Brunner, 1992; Fine, 1992; Lamb, 1997). With little acknowledgment of the ways in which they may enjoy sex and sexuality, these young women are left alone to make sense of these feelings, wondering if they are the only ones who have them. Likewise, few representations of positive male sexuality emerge in current programs (Lamb, 1997; Trudell, 1993; Whatley, 1991). Young men are portrayed as sexually experienced, confident, and knowledgeable, often in contrast to young women who are more innocent and naïve. When young women do exhibit experience or expertise it tends to be in the arena of emotion and relationships rather than physical or sexual knowledge. Furthermore, male sexuality is usually viewed as difficult to control and subject to raging hormones (Whatley, 1991). Young men are cast as manipulative or predatory beings who always crave sex. They are told to take no for an answer and not to pressure young women into sex, but the underlying assumption is that they always want sex when they can get it (Lamb, 1997; Trudell, 1992). Little room exists for acknowledging that young men may have a more complex relationship to sex—that it may have an emotional component for them as well, and that they may not always be willing to say yes to anyone walking down the street. Furthermore, these representations position young men and young women as adversaries on opposite sides of the sexual game, where young men endlessly pursue “it” whereas young women fight to keep from giving “it” away (Sapon-Shevin & Goodman, 1992). 44 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 In addition, the current subject positions afforded young men and young women, as well as the fixation on the negative consequences of sex, reflect dominant narratives that privilege (but ironically, simultaneously forbid) intercourse as the ultimate accomplishment in a hierarchy of sexual activity. Because the focus is on avoiding intercourse or practicing it safely, there tends to be little discussion of sexuality outside of intercourse (Krueger, 1993; Lamb, 1997). This devalues other forms of sexual expression and intimacy and robs both genders of experiencing these alternative forms of sexuality (Lamb, 1997). Compounding these limitations is the missionary tone taken by many adults involved in current sex education programs. Teens are assumed to be immature, irresponsible, and in denial about the potentially harsh consequences of sex (Morris, 1997; Trudell, 1992). Educators complain that students often giggle, make jokes, or cannot handle information that is too detailed (Finders, 1998; Sapon-Shevin & Goodman, 1992; Trudell, 1992). These assumptions often lead teachers to shy away from open discussion or small group activities because these do not provide as much “safety and control during those potentially uncomfortable and controversial moments” (Trudell, 1992, p. 215). As such, educators and others establish a dichotomous relationship between mature adults who are responsible and apparently always regard the consequences of sex and immature teens who are irresponsible and see themselves as invulnerable. Rarely do they acknowledge that, quite possibly, most adults feel fairly invulnerable and do not really think it will ever happen to them either. This discourse effectively positions youth as the other, emphasizing the differences between adults and youth, while obscuring important similarities. Consequently, this perspective often silences and devalues student voices and ideas. Sex education programs that do not value youth voices seriously limit their ability to reach teens. In addition, they deprive themselves of important ways in which existing teen knowledge and understandings might inform the experiences and interpretations of adults (Sears, 1997; Ward & Taylor, 1992). In so doing, they draw on and reinscribe dominant discourses about adolescence and youth, denying students ways of expressing their realities and reproducing adversarial relationships between youth and adults. One way to transform these ad- Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 45 versarial relationships is to take seriously the texts and representations that youth encounter and find meaningful. In an analysis of sexuality in six John Hughes’films, Whatley (1991) illustrated ways that sex educators, among others, might use these films to help students challenge dominant representations of teen sexuality. Although teaching students to confront these dominant representations in popular culture is decidedly important, I argue that we should also explore popular culture for ruptures in these discourses and potential resources for reconstructing them. To illustrate how this might be done I turn to an analysis of the representations around teen sexuality in American Pie. Even though American Pie certainly reflects and reproduces dominant discourses of sexuality, I argue that in many ways it also marks a potentially significant break from teen movies of this genre. In doing so, it contains resources and possible spaces for articulating more transformative discourses of teen sex and sexuality. The prominent location of American Pie within the popular discourse around teen sexuality positions the movie as a particularly important site of analysis. The movie earned more than $100 million at the box office, more than double the amount for any other teen movie in 1999 (Box-office statistics, 1999). Furthermore, as noted in myriad reviews by critics and youth, the film was well received by a variety of adolescent and adult audiences (Ebert, 1999; LaSalle, 1999; Pearson, 1999; Turan, 1999). METHODS In conducting this analysis, I examine the ways in which the text encourages particular readings and subject positions, denying others. To identify the important components that encourage these readings and/ or subject positions, I examined data from the text based on the following categories frequently used in textual analysis (Hall, 1997; Mechling & Mechling, 1999; Nelson, 1999; Strinati, 1995): • instances where texts draw on topics or definitions from the wider sociocultural structure 46 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 • language choices and the way they construct particular meanings and narratives • visuals, roles, and interactions that develop specific characters • media logics, such as lighting, editing, and sequencing of scenes, that construct narratives and imply associations between particular ideas or representations • alternate ways that similar scenes or characters have been portrayed in the past • what is unsaid or avoided and what this says about intended audiences and the interests served by the texts Textual analysis has often been criticized for assuming that the audience habitually engages in oppositional readings (Condit, 1989; Morley, 1997; Nelson, 1999) or for assuming the members are incapable of sophisticated interpretations or resistance (Billig, 1997; Jensen & Pauly, 1997). In the following analysis, I do not wish to romanticize viewers’ability to resist and deconstruct dominant representations; instead, I consider the ways in which audiences might access competing discourses that contest and reproduce these dominant meanings (Mumby, 1997). Likewise, my analysis is informed by a perspective that recognizes the significance of textual determinacy and media power in structuring meanings so that some interpretations are more likely than others and some are not possible at all (Condit, 1989; Morley, 1997). In addition, not all viewers or students will be equally adept at decoding, resisting, or challenging dominant representations (Condit, 1989; Grossberg, 1994a). As such, teens and other viewers will not always be aware of the ways in which their responses and interpretations are being directed in oppressive ways, precluding other possibilities. Conversely, the audience may also resist, reread, or misread potentially transformative representations or subject positions that emerge in the movie. With this in mind, I intend to describe the specific elements that are potentially resisted in this text and how that resistance occurs (Condit, 1989). At the same time, I acknowledge where slippages in these transformative readings are likely and for whom they are most likely. Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 47 “WARM-HEARTED AND FOUL-MOUTHED?” MEANINGS AND REPRESENTATIONS IN AMERICAN PIE American Pie, released in the summer of 1999, recounts the escapades of four high school senior young men who have made a pact to lose their virginity on prom night—only 3 weeks away. The main characters include Kevin, the only one who already has a steady girlfriend, Vicky; Chris (also called Oz) a dedicated lacrosse jock who early on begins to date Heather, a girl in the choir; Jim, a hapless romantic, who has a talent for being caught by his father as he masturbates; and Finch, a witty, intellectual, and somewhat neurotic character who refuses to go to the bathroom in the school facilities. Several key themes or topics around teen sexuality emerge and recur throughout the movie. These themes include male and female attitudes about sex and desire, male and female roles in negotiating sexual relationships, teens’ capacity for making informed and/or rational decisions about sex and sexuality, and explorations of the connections between sex, love, and relationships. For the following analysis, I chose scenes that are representative of these key themes or issues. The film’s treatment of these themes, however, is limited in at least two ways. First, and most important, the film focuses exclusively on heterosexual, White, middle-class teens. As such, it masks the privilege these adolescents enjoy and how this affects their circumstances and their ability to negotiate sexual identities and relationships. The choice between attending college at Ann Arbor or Cornell appears as a natural, universal choice that all teens face as does the opportunity to have the after-prom party at your parents’ beach house. In so doing, it provides no insight into how conditions of poverty, for instance, alter the circumstances and conditions in which male and female bodies negotiate heterosexual relationships. Likewise, the movie is limited in its representations of a range of masculinities and femininities and allows no opportunity for considering how individuals are held accountable to different masculinities and femininities in terms of race, class, or sexual orientation. As such, many of the identities or negotiation strategies employed by the characters in American Pie are more readily accessible to heterosexual 48 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 White viewers. Conversely, identities, styles of interaction, and negotiation strategies that might resonate with youth of color are noticeably absent, as are those that might resonate with homosexual teens. Furthermore, the characters—particularly the female characters— reinforce traditional White norms of attractiveness and beauty. Given its popularity among a diverse group of viewers, however, it also seems some aspects of the movie resonate across racial and class lines, and, when they do not, educators could direct students to discuss and analyze what is omitted from the film. To further illustrate the shortcomings of American Pie in this regard and to assist educators in engaging students in such discussion, I have elsewhere juxtaposed the film with several other teen movies that focus on youth of color (see Ashcraft, 2002a, 2002b). Juxtaposing these films helps illuminate specific themes and representations missing from American Pie and how this shapes the negotiation of sexuality and sexual identities. Second, that American Pie is a slapstick comedy certainly bears on how seriously the audience will take it or be able to engage in discussion about it. Jim and Finch’s characters, in particular, engage in some outrageous and rather buffoonish activities, such as Jim’s masturbating encounter with an unsuspecting apple pie left on the kitchen counter and Finch’s disastrous experience in the school bathroom after accidentally ingesting laxatives. These sorts of stunts may preclude male viewers from identifying with these characters, encouraging them instead to simply laugh at and distance themselves from them.1 Key among these stunts is a scene where some of the young men broadcast over the Internet an attractive exchange student as she undresses in Jim’s room. This endeavor quickly backfires, however, as the female student takes control of the sexual encounter and Jim winds up being the embarrassed party as he “comes” too quickly. This is a complex scene with multiple possibilities. On one hand, Jim’s buffoonish behavior in this scene might prevent young men from identifying with him. In addition, to a large extent the scene objectifies the female exchange student (although this reading is complicated by the fact that she turns the tables on Jim). On the other hand, this scene, as well as several others in the film, break with the traditional silence that Whatley noted (1991) in such films around the unpredictability of penises. This kind of humor and its diffusing capabilities may be one of the only or most effective ways to initiate discussions around such a ta- Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 49 boo topic at this historical moment. As I discuss in the conclusion, breaking this taboo perhaps offers interesting potential for disrupting the historical link between male sexuality and power. Elsewhere, I juxtapose comedic and dramatic treatment of masculinity in two teen films (crazy/beautiful and Booty Call), illustrating how, in many cases, the comedy actually might allow for greater attention and more potential discussion of the threats condoms pose to masculinity (Ashcraft, 2002a). Likewise, we must remember that teens are capable of engaging in critique of popular texts even when they enjoy these texts (Ashcraft, 2002a; Buckingham, 1993; Christensen, 2000). Although the pleasure they gain from these texts can pose problems for and interfere with more critical analysis, allowing them to alternate between enjoying or talking about this pleasure and later critically reflecting on it can mitigate teen resistance to such critique (Christian-Smith, 1997; Luke, 1997). Similarly, noting the more transformative moments when they exist in such texts can also prevent critical analysis from becoming the sort of search-and-destroy mission that teens often resist or engage in only to give teachers the answer they want to hear (Luke, 1997).2 With these considerations in mind, I look at the meanings of sex, love, and relationships in American Pie and the possibilities for educators’ efforts to help teens navigate the complex realm of sexuality. MASTERS OF OUR SEXUAL DESTINY . . . OR ARE WE? CONTRADICTIONS AND CONFLICT IN EXPERIENCES OF MALE SEXUALITY “Our manhood is at stake . . . we will fight for every man who is not getting laid and should be . . . we are the masters of our sexual destiny!” So concludes Kevin’s melodramatic speech that initiates the pact between the four young men. The scene immediately cuts to a rapid montage of the four young men frantically engaged in a host of activities designed to attract young women. Kevin, after offending Vicky, unsuccessfully attempts to win her back; Jim frantically enters his name and picture into a barrage of Internet dating sites to no avail; Oz perplexedly watches the Lifetime womens’channel for tips on sensitivity—hardly behaviors you would expect to see from masters of their own sexual destiny. 50 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 The juxtaposition of these two conflicting scenes represent a central tension present throughout the movie. As one reviewer noted, the young men are too young to know everything and too old to admit ignorance (Pearson, 1999). Through a number of early scene pairings, the filmmakers repeatedly underscore this tension. In one scene, the four friends are sitting at a restaurant exchanging sexual insults. Jim: Well, you’re the one with a girlfriend and you’re still stuck on third base. Kevin: At least, I know what third base feels like. Moments later the camera cuts to the same young men standing in the parking lot where Jim’s earlier confidence dissipates and he sheepishly asks, “Hey, guys, what does third base feel like?” On the lacrosse field, Heather asks Oz to the prom in front of Stiffler, the movie’s caricature of a wannabe womanizing jock. After Oz accepts, Heather leaves, and Stiffler razzes Oz about dating a choir girl. Oz jokes that he “likes the cute little sweaters she wears.” As they rejoin the team, Stiffler loudly continues joking and begins making pelvic thrusting motions. At this point, the camera cuts to Heather who has paused outside the fence and is watching these antics. Disappointedly, she turns away. Oz does not see her, but we see him standing amid a group of guys, looking uncomfortable and not participating in Stiffler’s antics. Although he initially validated the jokes, Oz draws the line when Stiffler continues with the comments and gyrating act. In these and similar scenes, the four young men occupy positions between the desire to appear like real men, the realization that they do not know how to live up to this representation, and uncertainty as to whether they even want to. Although some of the activities in these scenes can be deemed offensive and read as male discourses that objectify women, the obvious discomfort expressed by the main characters challenges traditional representations that all young men talk about women like this and do so because they want to. However, in these scenes, the young men do not explicitly challenge the objectification, and their resistance remains more covert than overt. Perhaps this does not adequately challenge traditional representations of masculinity. However, it still creates potential subject positions for young Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 51 men who may not want to participate in this behavior but experience pressure to do so. Additional slippage in the young mens’ claim to be the masters of their sexual destiny occurs in the ways in which they learn about sex and sexuality from the young women in the movie. In the early scenes of the movie, Oz is excited about his upcoming date because “it’s gonna happen, man. . . . She’s a college chick.” The date consists of only one scene in a car late at night at a lookout point. Oz asks the woman what her major is, and she replies “Postmodern feminist thought.” “Cool,” he says, followed by the rather ironic outburst, “Suck me, beautiful!” “What did you say?” she asks, a bit incredulously. He repeats the request a little less loudly this time. She begins to laugh, as if rather amused. He continues, hoping to save the situation by saying, “My friends call me Nova . . . Casanova.” She laughs and says, with sympathy, “You’re pathetic.” He looks a bit hurt and quietly says, “Well, geez, you don’t have to laugh at me.” At this, she quickly stops laughing and suggests, in a more serious manner, that there are just some things he has to learn. She proceeds to tell him that he needs to “tone it down quite a bit.” What he needs to do, instead, is to pay attention to a girl and be sensitive to her. He listens rather attentively. She finishes with a knowing smile as she says good-naturedly, “Come on, Casanova, I’ll take you back to your friends.” Several potential representations and meanings operate here. First, usually when and if feminism is mentioned in movies of this genre (or many other genres for that matter) it usually is ridiculed or represented in a fairly stereotypical, unflattering manner. In this case, however, the college feminist is presented as a likable, young woman. Furthermore, she has a good-natured but clear response to Oz’s abrupt and offensive comment. Now consider the way in which this scene might have been typically handled in a movie like this. After Oz makes his outburst, the woman looks appalled, throws him out of the car screaming at him, and then squeals away in her car. He dusts himself off, looks a little confused, and calls her a bitch or similar insult. Oz may still have gotten the message that he made a mistake, but the joke would be largely on her as a shrill stereotype. Furthermore, the interaction would most likely be read as antagonistic, reifying discourses that men and women are on opposite sides or enemies when it comes to sex or sex- 52 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 ual play (Sapon-Shevin & Goodman, 1992). Instead, in the film, she is clearly the cool one, in control, and it is a relatively compassionate interaction in which, rather than take offense, she helps to educate him, and he eagerly listens. As the more confident and experienced person in this interaction, the representation of the college woman creates space for a transformative subject position for women and young women. In addition, this interaction contributes to a discourse where women and men work together to resolve differences and misunderstandings. On the other hand, possibilities for readings that reinscribe dominant meanings also exist in this scene. Although Oz listens to this advice, rather than apply it sincerely, he initially implements it as a more manipulative strategy to win Heather. He tells his friends that choir is an “untapped resource” for dates and, because the young women there do not know him, he can really “work the sensitive angle.” Likewise, teen young men might engage a similar reading of this scene, reifying notions that young women are emotional, unpredictable, and you have to put up with this to have sex with them. This depiction might further reproduce discourses that essentialize young womens’ sexuality exclusively around emotional connections rather than physical pleasure. These readings are possible, particularly for male teens, although, as I discuss momentarily, later representations work against these readings. Another potential problematic reading is that some young women or, more likely, women might find that the college woman’s response did not treat Oz’s offense with enough gravity. As such, it may confuse young women or deny them a legitimate subject position that would allow them to respond angrily, suggesting instead that they must respond nicely or politely to such objectifying behavior. I would agree that women should retain the option for being angry in such situations. However, to require that every comment such as Oz’s be dealt with in this manner is to regulate the ambiguity out of sex (Gateskill, 1994). There is a difference between a childish mistake and a leering remark. The same sentence in different circumstances means entirely different things and requires different responses. Many women, for example, know that lines much less offensive than “suck me, beautiful!” can be much more threatening (given the right, or wrong, circumstances). Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 53 KEVIN, DON’T STOP! ON FEMALE DESIRE AND POSITIVE EXPRESSIONS OF MALE SEXUALITY Several depictions of female desire, as well as of positive male sexual expression, develop between Kevin and Vicky (and at one point, Jessica) as they discuss the topics of sex and love. Here, I trace a series of scenes scattered through the movie that constitute this sequence of development. First, at the beginning of the movie, Vicky and Jessica have the following conversation in the locker hall. Vicky is discussing what will happen to her and Kevin when they graduate. For now, I want to note that the word “perfect” becomes an important link between this scene and future scenes. Vicky: Cornell’s not that far from U of M . . . it’s doable. Jessica: You and Kevin haven’t even done it yet. Vicky: That’s not why we’re going out. Jessica: What do you think? He’s gonna drive up there for milk and cookies. Vicky: We’re gonna have sex. When he’s ready and I’m ready. It’s gotta be completely perfect—the right time, the right moment, the right place. Jessica: It’s not a space shuttle launch; it’s sex. Here Vicky and Jessica present quite different representations of possible female perspectives on sex. Vicky wants sex to be perfect and insists that this is not the only reason they are going out—a more traditional female subject position. Jessica, on the other hand, exhibits a more alternative, nonchalant attitude—young women can have sex independent of emotional attachment. Shortly after the young men make the pact, and while Vicky is still mad at Kevin for offending her at a party, Kevin has a conversation with Jessica. Jessica: Don’t worry, you’ll get her back. She likes you. Kevin: Well, I like her too. Jessica: Do you love her? Kevin: You can’t ask me that. Jessica: (shrugs and says casually) Tell her you love her. That’s how I was duped. Kevin: I don’t want to dupe her. Jessica: (she smiles approvingly at his answer) All right, then. You have to give her what she’s never had. (They have a brief debate about whether 54 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 or not she’s had an orgasm; Jessica insists “nuh, huh”) You have to figure out how to push her buttons. It’s either the big L or the big O. On one hand, Jessica’s remarks highlight that physical pleasure is important to women, in this case, Vicky. In fact her last comment, “It’s either the big L (love) or the big O” almost seems to suggest that both are equally important. Thus, she begins to create space for the acknowledgment of female desire. In addition, when she smiles at Kevin’s insistence that he does not want to dupe her she seems to have been testing him. To a certain extent, Kevin’s response creates possibilities for a more complex understanding of male sexual expression. Yes, he wants sex. But he is not willing to do anything to get it. He does not want to trick her. Thus begins the development of a potential representation of positive male sexuality. On the other hand, possible readings of this situation as somewhat manipulative still exist. Lamb (1997) noted that the question, “How do I turn a girl on?” seems other focused but it is girl friendly at best. “Most likely what is behind this question is an implicit belief that it is hard to turn on a girl and that ‘turning on a girl’ is an accomplishment that enhances one’s prestige as a man” (Lamb, 1997, p. 310). As such, it positions males as technicians and women as the objects of their technique. She suggests that young men need to be taught not what to do but how to tell if a girl is turned on. This would lead young men toward a sexual experience that focuses on the other person and encourage them to think of this experience as something partners do together. A similar theme recurs when Kevin has a conversation on the phone with his brother, shortly after the previous scene. Kevin wants to know if his brother knows “a trick or something” so that Vicky will have an orgasm. His brother responds somewhat chidingly, “Is that all you’re interested in? Getting your girl to bed?” Kevin assures him, “No, I’d like to be able to return the favor. I want her to enjoy it as much as I do” to which his older brother responds approvingly, “Okay, that’s good. That’s what I wanted to hear. Now you qualify.” He then proceeds to tell Kevin about a manual that is hidden in the library where guys have written advice to each other and each year it is passed along to only one guy who is worthy. As in the previous conversation with Jessica, Kevin expresses a sincere interest in wanting to please Vicky—in fact, a great deal of Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 55 Kevin’s attention, as well as screen time, are given to addressing Vicky’s sexual desire. Although he clearly wants to have sex, his desperate attempts to gather good information from friends he trusts reflect his insecurities and lack of experience and contribute to his development as an endearing character. These representations contribute to the construction of a male subject position that poses an alternative to the manipulative, sexually aggressive young man. In addition, the brother, as an older male, validates this alternative subject position by condoning Kevin’s attitude. On the other hand, Kevin still walks the fine line where his desire to “return the favor” may be girl-friendly at best. In addition, the passing down of a book of secrets seems to contribute to a more reproductive reading that positions women as something for which there is an instruction manual. Finally, Kevin applies some of his newly learned information about oral sex, and Vicky seems quite happy. He stops in the middle of the act to ask her something. She immediately ignores the question and responds with “Hey! Don’t stop, Kevin!” Thus, another expression of female desire. Later, Kevin and Vicky are in her room when she makes the following announcement: Vicky: We’ve come a long way since homecoming. Kevin: Yeah, we have. Vicky: I was thinking maybe it was time for us to express ourselves in new ways. Kevin: Yeah?! (rather excitedly) Vicky: Do you want to do it? Kevin: Yeah. (sits down on the bed and leans toward her) Vicky: Okay (pause) . . . I love you. Kevin: (panicked look on face) Vicky: What, you were thinking sex? It’s always about sex. Kevin: I don’t always think it’s about sex. I just thought this time it was about sex. (He gets off the bed, moves to the dresser, and looks at her on the bed as he talks). Love is this term that gets thrown around. People always say it when they don’t mean it. When I say it I want it to be more than just words. I want it to be. . . . (he looks down at the floor for this sentence) Vicky: (smiles at him and finishes his sentence) perfect. Kevin: (he looks quickly up at her) Exactly. (cuts to next scene) 56 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 The cleverness of this scene resides in its parallel to Vicky’s first conversation with Jessica about the image of wanting sex to be perfect. On one hand, this scene can be read as reinscribing the dominant discourse that positions men and women as adversaries, particularly in that men are always pushing for sex and women are always pushing for relationships. On the other hand, it contributes to a unique twist on this reading. Kevin seems to truly feel badly about having misinterpreted Vicky’s suggestion; he gets off the bed as if he is a little embarrassed and walks to the dresser where he launches into his concerns about saying, “I love you.” He earnestly stresses that he wants to be sure it means something and that this is not just an excuse to avoid commitment. Conveying his sincerity, he looks down and his voice trails off as he says, “I want it to be . . .”—almost as if he is sad, lost in thought or trying to find the right word. The camera cuts to Vicky sitting on the bed, who suddenly smiles a sort of knowing smile and completes the sentence for him, “perfect.” He looks up quickly, almost as if to say “Wow! How did you know?” and replies “Exactly.” It is as if at this moment, they come to an understanding. She suddenly realizes that he is not avoiding saying he loves her because he does not care for her, just as this is not the reason she is avoiding sex. He wants it to be perfect; just like she wants sex to be perfect. On one hand, this could resonate with dominant discourses about sex being easier for men, and love or relationships being easier for women. However, it also presents an alternative understanding of why love is hard for Kevin—not because he is afraid of commitment or sees this as a trap women lay, but because he has built it up the way Vicky has built up sex. He wants it to be just perfect when he does say it. Interestingly, this opens a space where saying “I love you” is at least as important for Kevin as it is for Vicky. The overall tone of this scene supports a discourse in which men and women are working together, rather than as adversaries, making meaning around sexuality. “WE SHOULD BE PSYCHED”: PROM NIGHT AT STIFFLER’S PARTY It is finally prom night. Oz, Jim, and Finch find Kevin sitting rather dejectedly on some steps outside the prom. Kevin attempts to tease the young men about whether or not they will come through on the pact, eliciting the following outburst from Jim: Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 57 You don’t need us to get laid, Kevin. Are you afraid or something. . . . I’m so tired of all this bullshit pressure to have sex. You know, I haven’t even had sex and I already can’t stand it. Yes, I hate sex. The young men disperse and then later return to find Kevin sitting on his perch on the steps. He tells them: Look . . . I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’m acting like I got everything together . . . Vicky’s going to ask me if I love her and I don’t know what I’m gonna say. I mean I’m on the brink. I’m just about to do it. I should be psyched. I don’t know, maybe you’re right; maybe I am just scared. In these scenes, the recurring tension between the young men’ apparent cockiness and actual fragility becomes quite apparent. Kevin is still wrestling with the question of whether it is appropriate for him to say “I love you.” Jim and Kevin have moments where they consciously admit their pain and confusion. Their comments call into sharp relief the disparity between dominant representations of masculinity and actual male bodies’ experiences of sexuality. The final sequence of scenes I analyze occur as the sexual destiny of each of the characters plays out. In the first scene, Oz and Heather are taking a romantic walk around a deck bordering the lake. He tells Heather that he is a virgin and that the young men made a pact to lose their virginity on prom night. After she observes, “This is not a good way to proposition me,“he reassures her that “with you, I don’t feel the need to score; I feel like I’ve already won.” She looks at him and says, “Oh Oz.” He has wanted her to call him Oz throughout the movie, but this is the first time she has. He looks a little surprised and touched, “You called me Oz.” She replies, “Well yeah, that’s what you’re friends call you and I think I’m your friend now—maybe, your girlfriend.” He smiles and they kiss. For most of the remainder of the movie, the camera alternates between clips of each couple. Two of the couples primarily function as caricature and comic relief: Jim and his band-geek date who suddenly and unexpectedly turns dominatrix and Finch who ends up with Stiffler’s mother in a “Mrs. Robinsonesque” affair. The camera alternates between these scenes and the more serious relationships of Oz 58 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 and Heather and Kevin and Vicky. During the scenes with the latter two couples, romantic music plays in the background; it stops for the more comical scenes. In these final scenes, the contrast between the Oz and Heather scenes and the Kevin and Vicky scenes becomes particularly interesting. Heather and Oz are outside on the deck. There are no spoken lines. As the camera alternates between them and the other couples, it simply shows them kissing, her taking off his shirt, and the two of them under a blanket. Kevin and Vicky, on the other hand, are inside. They look at each other a bit awkwardly as they stand on opposite sides of the bed. Later in bed, they lay side by side, and he asks her how she wants to do it. She tells him she wants to hear him say “it,” and he tells her he loves her. During the sex scene, in which both characters lose their virginity, they appear cautious and awkward; she winces a bit during intercourse, and he asks her if she’s “okay.” She tells him to “go slow.” The editing of the alternating clips between the two couples highlights the contrast between their experiences. Oz and Heather’s experience plays as much more erotic and graceful. It is outside on a romantically lit deck, there is no talking, and they move smoothly from one form of subdued erotic expression to another. In contrast, Vicky and Kevin’s experience seems more awkward and representative of first sex as a rite of passage. It is more ritualistic as they ask each other questions about what to do and she requests that he formally tell her that he loves her. Although three of the couples have intercourse, it is ultimately unclear whether Oz and Heather actually do. In a final scene when the young men are discussing prom night, Kevin says to Oz, “So you guys almost made it, huh?” Oz nods and replies simply, “Let’s just say we had a great evening together. . . . Guys, I think we’re falling in love.” Not surprisingly, many potential readings emerge from this final sequence of scenes. First, viewers (particularly young men), might read Oz’s revelation about the pact as merely a vulnerable guy act to get her in bed. In addition, the use of the sports metaphors of winning and losing may contribute to reproduction of typical dominant discourses that position Heather as an object. Furthermore, when Oz says, “With you, I don’t feel the need to score,” one might infer that with other young women he does feel this need but not with “good Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 59 girls” like Heather whom he truly loves, thereby reinscribing traditional distinctions between good and bad girls, as well as the dominant societal narrative about the love of a good woman taming the man. In the scenes involving Kevin and Vicky, Kevin suggests that they do it “like normal—missionary style” that might naturalize forms of sex that reinscribe traditional patriarchal relations between women and men. When Vicky insists that Kevin say “it” (“I love you”), she also appears to be inhabiting a traditional female subject position that requires emotional commitment before sex. On the other hand, return to the scene where Oz tells Heather about the pact. A potential rupture in the reading that he is putting on an act to lure Heather into bed is the fact that he goes as far as to say “I’m a virgin”—typically an unusual admission for a young man to make. He could have just said that they made a pact to “score on prom night.” In addition, for the last one half of the movie, Oz has slowly been developing into a much more sincere character and expresses sincere interest in Heather as a person. For those who read that they do not have sex, that would be added evidence that he is not trying to score. For those who read that they do, the fact that at the end he says, “I think we’re falling in love” would illustrate that, at least, after the fact, he was not only interested in sex. Furthermore, his obvious surprise and pleasure when Heather calls him Oz reflects that this is important to him and that he is interested in more emotional aspects of the relationship as well as sex. Likewise, Heather’s comment, “I think I’m your friend now . . . maybe your girlfriend” also contributes to the development of this relationship as one between friends and lovers. This scene then incorporates positive and complex representations of male sexuality and teen relationships that are about more than just sex. In the scenes with Kevin and Vicky, Kevin’s comment “I don’t know . . . normal style . . . the missionary position” seems to stem more from a lack of knowledge about any other position rather than a desire for control. In addition, Vicky earlier tells Jessica that she and Kevin will probably break up after graduation. Thus, her request that he say “it” (“I love you”) seems more a ritualistic attempt to make this coming-of-age moment perfect rather than to reassure herself of his long-term commitment. In addition, this sex scene significantly departs from more typical glamorous depictions of sex; instead, it plays as two innocent and uncertain teens attempting to navigate this awk- 60 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 ward but powerful ritual together the best they know how. As such, this representation might legitimate many teens’ insecurities about sexual relationships, potentially relieving some of the pressure they experience in the face of more idealized portrayals of how sex and romance should be. Finally, the interplay between the two couples’ scenes portrays two different but valid representations of healthy teen sex. Kevin and Vicky have carefully talked about this step for months. In an earlier scene, Vicky decides that she would rather have sex with Kevin even though they will probably break up when they go away to college. She reasons that she would rather do it first with Kevin than someone she does not know as well in college. The morning after they have sex, she initiates a talk about breaking up after high school. Again, the word “perfect” becomes important. Kevin protests, insisting that they can make it work, “That it will be perfect.” Vicky replies, “No, Kev, that’s what I’ve been realizing. Nothing is perfect and you can’t plan everything.” Kevin reluctantly agrees but finds it important to say, “Last night though (when he said “I love you”), I wasn’t lying.” She touches his face and says, “I know.” Thus, we see two people who can care about each other, realize that their relationship is temporary, but not let this diminish the experience they share together in the present. She is the girl who can decide to have sex with someone she cares about but knows she is not committed to, and he is the boy who wants to make sure that their love was real for that moment—unusual subject positions for male and female partners. Heather and Oz represent a more, committed couple who believe they are “in love.” Whether they actually have sex, their scenes focus more on forms of sexual expression other than intercourse. Because these scenes are also more erotic, they create possibilities for raising the value ascribed to these alternative forms of sexual expression— forms usually associated with young women. This potentially challenges dominant discourses that privilege intercourse is the ultimate accomplishment of sex. The fact that the filmmakers leave unresolved the question of whether Oz and Heather have intercourse underscores the message that multiple, positive models of sexuality exist and are not achieved simply by following clear, simple rules or arrangements. Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 61 Rather, viewers and students are afforded differing models of positive sexuality as individuals negotiate their particular relationships. That these interpretations are potentially preferred meanings of this text is supported also by many reviewers’ comments. Several reviewers noted that, particularly unusual for this type of movie, the women are treated with respect (LaSalle, 1999; Turan, 1999). “They are not typed as saints, bimbos or objects of ineffable mystery but as fellow humans going through a similar period of turmoil and adventure” (LaSalle, 1999, p. C1). Even the negative review I collected observed that the comedy attempts “to take the sting off its vulgarity with a dash of realism and feminist coloration” (Denerstein, 1999, p. 7D). That he managed to notice this amid his clear expectations that the movie would be nothing but a low teen comedy is worth noting. Furthermore, most of the reviewers also noted that the film has a “warm spirit and respect” for the characters in the movie (LaSalle, 1999). Ebert (1999) agrees that this is indeed a movie that “feels affection” for its characters. In addition, they note the respect and warmth the characters exhibit for each other, noting that “all its foolishness is only windowdressing for a film that . . . is surprisingly innocent and good natured” (Turan, 1999, p. 1). Although “ladling on the comedy” it also “captures the sensitive side of adolescence . . . the sight gags are largely secondary to the larger tone” (Pearson, 1999, p. 6D). Certainly, some viewers may not look beyond the vulgar humor and sight gags and may not recognize any of the transformative representations I and the reviewers propose. However, to assume, as one reviewer does, that this applies to almost all teens and that “hardly anyone will leave the theater talking about the tender moments” (Denerstein, 1999, p. 7D) reflects the dominant societal discourse that is so dismissive of teens, their perspectives, and their abilities to engage in any sort of more sophisticated interpretation. It also assumes that what we talk about is the only thing we take away from a text. The easiest topic in superficial conversation may be referencing the jokes; this does not mean that viewers do not reflect on other aspects of the movie. Furthermore, it is also quite possible to be affected by meanings that you are unable to articulate. 62 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 CONCLUSION: IMPLICATIONS FOR SEX EDUCATION AND RETHEORIZING SEXUALITY DISCOURSES The popularity with which American Pie was received indicates that the movie resonates with a large number of teens’ lived experiences. In many instances, the representations and discourses of American Pie construct male and female subject positions missing from the more official discourses of sex education programs. As such, educators need to consider the implications of sites or texts such as American Pie in their efforts to develop effective sex education and to challenge broader societal narratives about teen sexuality. In this case, the film could serve as a starting point for many important discussions with teens—discussions that would help teens rewrite traditional discourses of masculinity, femininity, and sexuality. Before elaborating here, I want to acknowledge that official use of this text or similar popular texts in sex education contexts may often be difficult or impossible, given time constraints, parental objections, teacher discomfort, and other such limitations. Considering these limitations and ways to address them is important but is beyond the scope of this article. I do wish to note, however, that even though official use of these texts may sometimes be impossible, educators still can draw from the following insights to identify important representations and issues missing in formal or sex education and to envision creative ways of addressing these issues that will better meet the real needs of adolescents. For example, they could informally draw from and use the alternative representations and discourses identified in the film to create their own curriculum activities, role-plays, scenarios, or small group discussions that better address the lived experiences of students. Likewise, I do not wish to limit these suggestions to sex education contexts. Schools, in general, are sites where sexuality is learned and produced; therefore, a number of formal education or curricular contexts (e.g., literature) could incorporate these insights. The alternative representations and discourses most notable in American Pie are the decided attention given to female desire, the positive representations of male sexuality, the cooperative communication between young men and young women as they negotiate meanings around sexuality, and the respectful portrayal of teens. First, sex education programs might take cues from the film’s clear depictions Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 63 of female desire. The young women of American Pie make conscious, calculated, informed decisions about their sexuality, potentially challenging traditional and official discourses that position them as naïve, inexperienced innocents who may unwittingly be lured into giving away their virginity. In addition, these young women possess significant knowledge and experience in physical aspects of sexuality, not simply relational ones. Likewise, the young women in American Pie create a range of acceptable subject positions in terms of female sexuality (e.g. Jessica, the sexually knowledgeable young woman who enjoys independence and often eschews relationships; Vicky, the young woman who makes a responsible decision to have sex even though she knows the relationship will not last; Heather, the more traditional young woman who may decide to have sex with the boy she loves). Vicky’s character, in particular, provides opportunities for disrupting dominant discourses of romance, often criticized by feminist theorists for deluding and disempowering young women (ChristianSmith, 1990; Holland & Eisenhart, 1990; McRobbie, 1994). In the beginning of the movie, she subscribes to the dominant discourse of romance, believing that her relationship and sex with Kevin will be perfect. By the end of the movie, she understands that “nothing is ever perfect,” but this does not diminish her power to make the experience pleasurable or meaningful on her own terms. Students in formal or sex education contexts could discuss the merits of these different representations, the ways in which they challenge traditional assumptions about womens’ attitudes toward relationships and sex, and how they compare to their own experiences. Second, the male characters in American Pie challenge dominant representations of masculinity as powerful and sexually aggressive. Many scholars have identified the numerous instabilities, tensions, and contradictions operating in competing notions of masculinity (Bordo, 1999; Connell, 1995; Davies, 1997; Kenway & Fitzclarence, 1997). Navigating these tensions and contradictions creates a number of difficulties for young men (Bordo, 1999; Connell, 1995; Whatley, 1991). However, current representations or discussions about sexuality in formal education provide few opportunities for young men to discuss these difficulties. American Pie, on the other hand, places these tensions on dramatic display. It calls into sharp relief the disparity between the young mens’ public flaunting of confidence and their 64 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 actual insecurities about sexuality. Historically, silence around male bodies and sexual performance has been crucial in equating male sexuality with power (Bordo, 1999; Whatley, 1991). In parading the discomfort that the young men experience, especially with their own bodies, the film also provides potential resources for disassociating this traditional representation of male sexuality.3 In addition, such scenes might provide a springboard in formal education environments for young men to discuss (with each other and with female students) how they experience pressure to engage in oppressive actions, why they sometimes participate, and how they also invent strategies for resistance or at least for removing themselves from the scene. Such discussion would call direct attention to the accountability teens feel to dominant discourses, as well as creative ways in which they already attempt to articulate alternative discourses. Likewise, the film challenges traditional notions of male attitudes about sex, love, and relationships. Several of the main characters reveal significant interests in aspects of relationships other than sex. Oz is visibly happy when Heather calls him “Oz” and says that he is her friend. Kevin insists he does not want to dupe Vicky into bed and that he wants to be sure that she is satisfied. Most notably, the attention given to Kevin’s hesitance in saying “I love you” creates a representation of masculinity that takes love seriously and agonizes over its proper use, much the same way young women learn to agonize over when it is appropriate to have sex. This could potentially provide an alternate way for young men to understand their anxiety toward love or relationships rather than defaulting to more traditional explanations around male biological infidelity or an innate fear of commitment. Likewise, this may provide a more complex way for young women and young men to make sense of and discuss their differing feelings around sex, love, and relationships (as in fact, Kevin and Vicky demonstrate as they arrived at this very interpretation together.) Third, a number of scenes in the film portray young women and young men working together to negotiate complex meanings around sexuality (e.g., the “I love you” discussions between Kevin and Vicky; Kevin seeking advice from Jessica, Vicky’s sexually experienced girlfriend; and the “suck me, beautiful!” scene between Oz and the college feminist). Scenes such as these contribute to a discourse of sexuality where young women and young men are not positioned as Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 65 opponents in a sexual game but rather navigate these experiences and meanings together. This contribution is significant because, as hooks (1989) noted, male domination “has not destroyed the longing men and women have to love one another, although it makes fulfilling that longing almost impossible to realize” (p. 131). As a result, it is necessary to develop strategies that do not pit women and men against each other but allow women to speak with men about domination and oppression (hooks, 1989, 2000). Discussing scenarios such as these might be one way to foster such an understanding. For example, the scene between Oz and the college feminist provides an interesting context for students to discuss how young women and women experience male domination. Such a discussion might help educators and young women devise strategies and terminology that allow them “to cope with the cultural pressure of becoming the object of male experience” and empower them “to find, define, protect, and value their authentic selves” (Van Roosmalen, 2000, pp. 224-225). Female students might discuss, alone and with males, why a sexual advance might be less threatening in one circumstance than in another, how varying advances make them feel, and appropriate ways to respond. Such discussions might increase both genders’ understandings of these issues and how they position them differently. Finally, the contrast between the two serious relationships in the film encourage students in sex education programs to consider the value of other forms of sexual expression besides intercourse. Of course, the extent of this challenge would most likely be greater for those who infer that Oz and Heather do not have sex; however, even for those who infer that they do, the staging of their encounter still focuses on aspects other than intercourse. Likewise, the realistic portrayal of Kevin and Vicky’s first time provides opportunities for discussing the disparity between dominant discourses that glamorize intercourse with actual teens’ experiences of it, especially, perhaps, the first time. In addition, these scenes portray teens who are able to seek out important information and make responsible decisions about sex and sexuality—a representation often missing from official discourses about adolescents and sex. Educators and adults frequently fear or resist the incorporation of these popular discourses or texts because of the ambiguity, uncertainty, and unpredictability this would most surely bring. When at- 66 YOUTH & SOCIETY / SEPTEMBER 2003 tempting to address problems such as teen pregnancy and STDs, this ambiguity is uncomfortable. As an educator myself, I also experience discomfort, particularly with the potential for dominant or oppressive readings. However, discussion and guidance can minimize these possibilities. Furthermore, as it is, students are continually bombarded with dominant narratives; exploring them is important even if students do not immediately accept more transformative messages. Although it is tempting to dictate liberating messages to students, such an approach faces many of the same limitations found in existing rules and formulas regarding sexuality. In other words, this approach also has clarity going for it but little else. Students (and adults) all face conflicting emotions, feelings, and experiences that defy certainty. If they are not allowed to explore these feelings and respond to them in ways that are respectful of themselves and others, they will find it difficult, if not impossible, to be responsible for them. As Gateskill (1994) observed, it is not “possible to develop yourself in such ways if you are attuned to following rules and codes that don’t give your inner world enough importance” (p. 44). We must attend to this complexity if we want teens to be able to make responsible decisions about sex when faced with the complicated, real-life contexts in which these on-the-spot decisions most often occur. Certainly, ambiguity may be uncomfortable. This does not make it unnecessary. NOTES 1. On the other hand, a number of scenes throughout the movie work to make Jim a sympathetic character. Furthermore, Oz and Kevin’s characters, although comical, provide less slapstick representations of masculinity with which many male viewers might more readily identify. 2. A more thorough treatment of how to engage students in such discussion is beyond the scope of this article but has been considered in other work (see Ashcraft, 2002a; Luke, 1993, 1997). 3. Besides the instances mentioned in this article, the young mens’discomfort with their bodies is also especially apparent in several additional scenes that give decided attention to the unpredictable nature of the penis (Ashcraft, 2002b). Ashcraft / POPULAR CULTURE AND SEX EDUCATION 67 REFERENCES Ashcraft, C. (2002a, April 5). The “trouble” with boys: Confronting competing masculinities in popular culture and schooling. 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Giroux (Ed.), Postmodernism, feminism, and cultural politics (pp. 119-143). New York: State University of New York Press. Willis, P. (1990). Common culture: Symbolic work at play in the everyday culture of the young. Boulder, CO: Westview. Zide, W., Perry, C., Moore, C., Weitz, C. (Producers), Herz, A. (Writer), & Weitz, P. (Director). (1999). American pie [Motion picture]. United States: Universal Pictures. Catherine Ashcraft completed her Ph.D. in educational foundations at the School of Education at the University of Colorado, Boulder. Her research focuses on the discursive practices that construct gender, race, and class in formal and informal educational contexts, particularly in terms of sexuality and violence.