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Sex education for students with disabilities: don’t leave it to Dr. Google

First published

Illustration of a hand holding an audio plug beside a laptop displaying gender symbols.

Illustration: © Joey Guidone / Behance · CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.

Sex education can explain reproduction and still leave disabled students wondering where they fit. August Pritchett writes about the gap between learning the facts and seeing your own body included.

About this edition: First published May 6, 2019. August Pritchett died in 2023. Her first-person account has been edited for clarity and factual accuracy while preserving her perspective. The practical guidance and resources below are a separate update from URevolution’s editorial team.

When one thinks of sexual intercourse, one imagines people doing some birds and bees action in a bed, or somewhere else. (I remember Cosmo particularly liked boats.) Sometimes, there are things involved that’ll make your devoutly religious grandmother clutch her pearls and pray that you don’t become too promiscuous. Some are just plain weird. (Again, refer to Cosmo, as well as 50 Shades of Grey.)

Disabled people can have sexual fantasies too

Whatever sexual fantasies people imagine, ranging from the simple to the outright strange, the bodies in the picture usually seem to be abled ones. Disabled people are too often left out of the conversation, and sometimes we’re left wondering how to express ourselves sexually.

I would say that I got a decent enough sex education. When I was in middle school, I was given worksheets with the male and female reproductive systems to fill out. My fifth-grade teacher showed us the videos explaining periods and wet dreams, then we went on a field trip to Discovery Place (a family-friendly science museum) to learn how a baby was made.

In eighth grade, we spent several weeks going over STDs, and my teacher went in-depth, explaining all the contraceptives available at the time. I learned all about safe sex, what rape was and what to do if it happened, types of sex, and that sexuality is a thing.

I know about sex, but only for abled bodies

Considering I grew up in North Carolina in the early 2000s, that was nothing short of miraculous. When I started high school, I had a plethora of knowledge on how to not get pregnant or catch an STD and how to protect myself. Except, I didn’t know how I, as a disabled person, could do it. Everything I saw only referred to abled bodies. Sex education for students with disabilities wasn’t covered in the classroom.

When abled people are feeling particularly nosy, they’ll sometimes ask, “Can you have sex?” Why, yes. Then they’ll ask, “How?” Even though a disabled person’s sex life is none of their business, the question shows how absent we are from the sex-ed conversation.

Thanks to people talking more openly about sex, there are a lot of resources on the internet. When it came to how I could be intimate, I mainly educated myself with YouTube videos, watching other disabled people talk about their sexual experiences.

These videos help disabled people by providing a sort of role model as well as a sense of community, allowing people to relate through shared experiences. They also help challenge the assumption that disabilities and sex don’t go together.

Why Dr. Google cannot replace sex education

The internet can be an excellent resource. What I found in the disabled YouTube community, though, was that many of the commenters were also people with disabilities. It’s good to find connections you might not otherwise find where you live. But abled people need this information, too.

Another issue is demonetization. YouTube is a source of income for a lot of people, and for those who are disabled and may not be able to take on a “real” job (groan), it’s a major source of it. Yet, a lot of YouTubers worry about censoring their videos, or else they’ll get demonetized.

Editor’s note: This paragraph describes the author’s concern at the time of the original 2019 essay, rather than a review of current YouTube policies.

Lastly, people shouldn’t have to rely on the internet to learn about sex. (Clap emoji-ing between each word.) Schools should help students understand their bodies, relationships and safer intimacy. That education needs to include disabled students, especially when talking about sex at home is difficult or discouraged.

It should be the school’s responsibility to make sure we’re included when covering how the baby-making is done. We shouldn’t have to finish the lesson by going home and searching for whether any of it applies to us.

Schools need to include disabled bodies

If schools are going to make sex education accessible and inclusive, there’s one major issue. (I know, I’m bringing up a lot of problems, but I’m an optimistic person, I swear!) Everybody is built differently, which means everyone experiences sex differently.

Strength, mobility, pain and sensation can affect what feels comfortable or possible. Some people have stomas, tubes or other medical equipment to consider. A classroom cannot supply an individual answer to every question, but it can stop pretending those bodies don’t exist.

While it’s near impossible to include every kind of disability in sex education (seriously, class periods are only for a limited amount of time), it’s still important to include us in the discussion. That can start with representation in the materials teachers use.

It doesn’t have to be the same disability their student has, especially if that student has a rare condition. Seeing disabled people included would still let students know that we can get some birds and bees done as well. Perhaps it would make asking questions feel a little less lonely.

No one should be left wondering whether disability rules out intimacy

It’s good that there’s an online community of disabled people sharing experiences. But we should have been included back when we were learning about the dreaded puberty, and how to get and not get pregnant. Adults shouldn’t have to start that education over because our sex-ed classes left us out.

Disabled people want to get down and dirty, too. Stigma and ignorance shouldn’t make it harder to find out how.

What should sex education for students with disabilities cover?

Editorial update — October 1, 2026. Disabled students need age-appropriate information about bodies, consent, relationships and sexual health, presented in ways they can understand and use. Access needs should shape the teaching. They should not become a reason to leave students out.

The American Academy of Pediatrics’ guidance supports discussing sexual health with children and teenagers with disabilities, including consent, respect, safer sex and sexual victimization. A useful curriculum should make room for:

  • Bodies and puberty: accurate names for body parts, changes during puberty, menstruation and personal care.
  • Consent and boundaries: asking before touching, recognizing refusal, changing your mind and respecting another person’s choices.
  • Relationships and identity: affection, friendship, attraction, sexual orientation and gender, without assuming that everyone wants sex or a romantic relationship.
  • Sexual health: contraception, pregnancy, sexually transmitted infections and how to ask a qualified health professional for advice.
  • Safety and support: recognizing pressure or abuse, identifying trusted sources of help and discussing online privacy.

Coverage still has gaps. A 2025 systematic review of 39 studies found that sexuality education programs for people with intellectual and developmental disability frequently addressed healthy relationships and consent, but covered contraception, sexual diversity and decision-making less often. The studies also varied in how fully they described their teaching methods. That is a reason to examine what a program actually teaches, rather than assume a disability-specific label guarantees a complete education.

Correcting a myth about physical disability

An earlier version of this article made overly broad claims about which sexual activities people with paralysis could have. Disability does not determine one universal set of possibilities. The Model Systems Knowledge Translation Center explains that the effects of spinal cord injury on sexual function vary with the injury. A person’s health, preferences and access needs matter; individualized medical questions belong with a clinician familiar with their condition.

How can teachers make sex education accessible?

The Rights, Respect, Responsibility disability supplement gives educators practical ways to adapt lessons, especially for students with physical disabilities. Start with the actual activity and ask what could prevent a student from participating.

  • Make information available in usable formats. Check captions, describe important visual content and provide accessible text.
  • Offer different ways to participate. A lesson should not depend on standing, moving quickly, handwriting or speaking aloud.
  • Build in time and privacy. Allow additional processing time and a way to ask questions privately. Do not require a disabled student to explain their body to the class.

For students with intellectual or developmental disabilities, teaching may need concrete language, short steps, visual supports and repetition. Check understanding through examples rather than relying only on “Do you understand?” Alberta Health Services’ guidance for families offers starting points for discussing sexuality, privacy and boundaries. A student’s physical access needs do not tell you their level of understanding; neither does whether they communicate through speech.

What can parents and caregivers ask the school?

Ask to see the lessons. Which topics are covered? How are the materials adapted? Can the student ask a question without an audience? Who will follow up when a question needs a health professional’s input?

Where possible, ask the young person what they want help understanding. OHSU’s guidelines for supporting young people with intellectual and developmental disabilities were developed using input from young people and the people supporting them. Their questions deserve a place in the plan.

Free sex education resources for educators and families

Online resources can be useful. August’s argument was that disabled students should not have to find an entire missing education for themselves.

Related reading: Myths about sex and disability examines the wider assumptions that follow disabled people beyond the classroom.

About August Pritchett

August Pritchett (1997–2023) was an artist and writer based in Savannah, GA. She graduated from Georgia Southern University in 2018 with a degree in English Communication and minors in history and French. A passionate storyteller, she was the author of two novels and 24 published articles, including work for URevolution. In 2019, she self-published A Lock of Hair, a YA historical fiction novel exploring witchcraft and the Irish diaspora in 19th-century Boston. Beyond writing, August was a talented painter, seamstress, and lover of history, deeply fascinated by the past. She was known for her kind spirit and resilience, having lived with a rare physical disability, which she faced with remarkable strength. August passed away on August 1, 2023, at the age of 26. Her creativity and passion continue to inspire those who knew her and those who discover her work.

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