Australian fathers are increasingly leaving the delicate “sex talk” with their children to mothers — and growing research suggests this could leave boys underexposed to critical guidance at a formative age. A 2025 national survey by La Trobe University revealed that only 23.9 per cent of fathers initiated conversations about sex, compared with 32.3 per cent of mothers; similarly, when it came to emotional aspects of relationships, 22.4 per cent of fathers took the lead versus 38.2 per cent of mothers.
The findings, published under the report Beyond the Talk: Supporting parents and carers to speak with children about sex, relationships and consent, surveyed nearly 1,900 Australian parents of children aged 5–18, asking who starts the conversation on puberty, body changes, sexuality and relationships. The imbalance appears rooted in longstanding, gendered expectations around parenting: as researchers note, mothers have traditionally shouldered the emotional and caregiving burden — and sex education seems to have become part of that invisible “emotional load.”
This maternal dominance in the realm of sex education isn’t merely a private domestic detail; it carries broader implications for adolescent wellbeing. The same study found that while many parents talked about puberty, body image, and sexual safety, far fewer felt confident addressing more intimate topics — like masturbation (12 per cent), sexual satisfaction (13 per cent), contraception (about 30 per cent), or sexually transmitted infections (less than half had discussed STIs) — leaving large gaps in comprehensive understanding.
Public commentators and health professionals warn such silence may push teenagers — especially boys — to seek answers elsewhere, often turning to peers or the internet. A recent systematic review of global research on parental communication about sexual education underscored this risk: when parents hesitate to talk about sexuality due to discomfort, cultural taboos or lack of knowledge, young people often end up informed by unreliable or misleading sources — with consequences including misinformation, risky behaviour, lower self-esteem, and difficulty navigating consent or relationships.
Australia’s scenario is particularly striking against a backdrop of increasingly progressive, school-based sexuality education. For instance, in states like Victoria, sexuality education — covering anatomy, consent, relationships, body autonomy, identity and more — is officially part of the curriculum under the term “sexuality education” rather than the old-fashioned “sex ed.” But educational bureaucracies insist on parental involvement: schools encourage parents to engage, discuss lessons at home, and complement school-based instruction with family conversations.
That said, relying heavily on mothers to cover this terrain may inadvertently reinforce traditional gender roles: women continue to carry the bulk of emotional and relational labour within families, while men remain on the sidelines of what many perceive as “women’s work.” Proponents of more active father involvement argue that when fathers do engage — modeling open communication, male perspectives on puberty and relationships — boys gain a more balanced understanding of sexuality, gender dynamics, intimacy and consent.
Bringing culture into focus, this dynamic resonates beyond Australia. In many Asian societies (and elsewhere), talking openly about sex remains taboo; parents often avoid the subject altogether, leaving children to navigate puberty and relationships on their own or via social media. In this regional context, the Australian situation offers a useful contrast: despite widely available school-based sexuality education and relatively open attitudes toward gender and relationships, ingrained cultural norms about who “should” talk about what can still stifle open dialogue.
For boys especially — who may never hear from their fathers about wet dreams, consent, body image or sexual boundaries — the silence may be deafening. Experts say that when dads shun these conversations, children miss not just biological facts, but also the gender-specific advice, emotional nuance and guidance that only a parent of the same gender can credibly offer.
As Australia revisits national conversations around consent, sexuality and youth wellbeing — especially amid rising concern about pornography’s influence on young people — the call grows louder: parenting sex education should be a shared responsibility. Fathers need not deliver perfect lectures, but their active presence, calm honesty and willingness to engage can make a real difference. Without it, we risk raising a generation of kids half-informed about sex — biologically, emotionally and morally.
Spicy Auntie reporting from the frontline of parental awkwardness — that great Australian ritual where fathers clear their throats, glance at the ceiling, and delegate the sex talk to Mum as if it were another load of laundry. Darlings, let me be blunt in the way only an Auntie with decades of community gossip and feminist mileage can: fathers, do your part of the job. Especially with your boys, who are navigating hormones, consent, body image, desire, loneliness, and the occasional tsunami of misinformation served by TikTok and late-night Google.
I say this with love seasoned by irritation. Because every time a man says, “Ask your mother,” I hear the quiet grinding of another gendered burden being dumped onto a woman’s shoulders. The emotional labour of parenting is already a continent dragged behind mothers like an invisible sled. And now? The sex talk too? Come on, mates — we aren’t in the 1950s, and boys don’t learn about bodies and boundaries from watching Dad mow the lawn in stoic silence.
But here’s the twist in our tale, sprinkled with a little Auntie irony: before fathers can teach their sons, maybe someone needs to educate the fathers first. Many Aussie dads grew up in cultures — at home, at school, in their social circles — where sex was either a joke or a shame. They were never taught to talk honestly about consent, pleasure, safety, or feelings. Nobody explained that masculinity isn’t built on secrecy or bravado but on clarity, empathy, and responsibility.
So when a 12-year-old asks, “Dad, what’s puberty going to be like?” some fathers freeze like kangaroos in headlights. They aren’t avoiding the conversation because they don’t care; they’re avoiding it because no one taught them how to handle it. That generational silence becomes a family heirloom passed down like an unwanted antique.
Meanwhile, boys grow up learning about sex from porn, peers, and algorithms — a cocktail more chaotic than a Friday night in King’s Cross. When dads stay silent, they leave their sons alone with myths, pressure, and a warped script about what masculinity should look like.
So yes, my dear fathers, step up. Not with a lecture, not with embarrassment, but with curiosity and courage. Say, “I didn’t learn these things growing up, but I want us to learn together.” That single sentence could change a boy’s life. And if you truly don’t know where to start? Ask for help. Get resources. Attend a workshop. Read a guide.
Because the next generation deserves more than mumbled evasions and maternal outsourcing. They deserve fathers who talk, teach, and show that real manhood includes honesty — especially about the things that matter.