By Juanita Reyes –

When I was an abstinence educator, I wrote a short rap song for my students to get their attention. It goes like this:

“Sister-girl grew up never seen a good marriage. All she saw was the baby in the carriage. Never thought she’ll be the fairest who can keep herself pure into marriage. Wasn’t sure she’ll be a good parent, but one day she went to a conference, heard the truth and changed her whole concept. Now she knows that she can wait. She can do her homework and not her date. It’s not too late and you can wait. Even if you got your groove on, deal with your hurts and pains and move on. Remember to love yourself, respect yourself, protect your heart ‘cuz that’s where it starts. You’re worth so much you deserve the best, don’t settle for less ‘cuz you’ll be a hot a mess!”

Well, this did get their attention as I stood in front of the class attempting to bust a flow. Of course they teased me and told me I was a “lame,” but it was definitely a discussion starter. Some students would tell me right away that they could relate to the girl in the song.

I told my students that this song personified me. Growing up, almost all the women in my familia had children at a young age. These women were not married; they were not with the father of their child either or as my students would say, “Their baby daddy.” This generational cycle was the norm and the example I had surrounding me.  So naturally, I envisioned myself one day having children but never getting married.

This idea of having children without being married was further reinforced in my mind at school. When I was in sixth grade, a seventh grade girl from my elementary school was pregnant. I vividly remember watching her walk across the lunchroom wearing baggy jeans and a baggy T-shirt looking down while holding her lunch tray. She looked sad. At the time, I literally wondered how did that happened. In high school, I saw pregnant girls all the time. By then, I knew how.

Even though children were being born out of wedlock in my family and my community, my great-grandmother who raised me, told me I better not get pregnant or else. I wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend either. But at 15, I rebelled and had a boyfriend anyway.

Behind my Wela’s back, me and my boyfriend would talk on the phone for hours. I would go to his house after school and sometimes we would be alone. It was then during those alone times that he would try to pressure me physically. He figured that since he was a virgin and because I was a virgin, it would be nice to have sex together for the first time. I said no. He persisted. He told me that if I loved him, I would. I told him that if he loved me, he wouldn’t even ask.

At that point, I knew it was time to break up with him. I was afraid to, but I needed to make a choice. I knew in my heart that I did not want to have sex with him. So we broke up. I decided then I would not have sex until marriage.

Four years later, the same young man I once dated made headlines. While I was reading the Chicago Tribune newspaper one day, there on the front page of the Metro section was his story. A photo caption reads: “A pallbearer spends a moment with the casket of Jonathan Collazo, killed in a drive-by shooting May 11, before Collazo’s funeral mass at St. John Berchman’s church on the Northwest Side.”

My heart was broken and saddened by this news.  I couldn’t believe that my ex- boyfriend had such a tragic death and I could not help but wonder: What if? What if we would have had sex? My life could have been totally different.

Jonathan was the last boyfriend I had until I met the man I would eventually marry.

Throughout the rest of my teen years and young adult years, I was firmly committed to the idea of waiting to have sex until marriage. As I would tell my students, “no ringy, no dingy.” Even though many in my family and community didn’t believe in me or think it was possible to do. I did it.

On May 23, 2009, at the age of 25, I married my college sweet-heart Eric Rico Reyes as a virgin.  We both held the same values of waiting until marriage. So on our wedding day after we exchanged vows and said “I do,” we felt completely free to have sex over and over again, without reservations because we declared our love and commitment to each other for a life time.

It was not easy waiting and persevering through this decision but it was well-worth the wait.  This decision built character, teaching me to be a woman of integrity who stands by her principles and is not led astray by others and pop culture. This decision broke a generational cycle in my family, which that alone makes it worthwhile. I’m the first in my family to go to college, graduate and later earn a master’s degree in journalism at Columbia College Chicago.  Through this decision I was able to avoid unwanted pregnancies, STDs, baby-mama drama, and many of the other possible consequences that come from premarital sex.

Now, I know that not everyone will wait until marriage and waiting until marriage doesn’t guarantee you’ll have a life of bliss. However, teen pregnancies are still on the rise especially among Latinas with more than 50 percent having a first baby before the age of 20, according to the National Campaign to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy. STDs are spreading at an alarming rate. Families are still dysfunctional.

I believe that our view of sex and our view of marriage will be the determining factor in changing these statistics. You can provide more contraceptives, more condoms, more pamphlets, more sex education, but what will really motivate and effect change, I believe is a vision—a vision for something better and greater, beyond the here and now.

I waited because I wanted to leave a legacy for my children and my children’s children. I waited because I wanted to model a healthy marriage. I waited because I want my daughters, my nieces, my cousins, my friends, my neighbors to know they are worth the wait.