Red Bull? Cheeky bag of chips? HIV test? Anything you might need on a random weekday; the options are truly endless thanks to the vending machines across NSW offering free HIV self-testing kits. UTS now has one too, conveniently located in front of the UTSSA office in Building 2.
The self-test provides results in just 15 minutes, enabling students to discreetly check their status at any time—no doctor’s appointment required—before heading straight to their next lecture. Launched under the NSW Health MyTest project, this initiative seeks to remove barriers to sexual healthcare and promote stigma-free testing.
While this is a major step forward in making HIV testing more accessible, it also sparks a broader conversation about sexual health education in Australia. Many young people struggle with shame and fear of judgment when discussing safe sex practices, visiting sexual health clinics, or even seeking basic information about sexually transmitted infections (STIs). It is a curious paradox: a country that built its cultural identity on mateship and casual irreverence remains deeply uncomfortable discussing the realities of sexual health. The reality, of course, is that sexual health check-ups should be as routine as dental appointments, though arguably more pleasant than a wisdom tooth extraction. But, unlike a trip to the dentist, people hesitate to engage with sexual health services, even when they are free, anonymous, and designed to be as accessible as possible. Open conversations about STIs are still met with a level of social discomfort usually reserved for tax audits or group assignments.
However, prevailing societal attitudes often (inaccurately) link STI testing to irresponsibility or promiscuity, reinforcing negative stereotypes that deter students from prioritising their sexual health. Many young Australians point to gaps in their high school sex education, leaving them underprepared for real-world sexual health decisions. Curricula often focus on abstinence, fear-based messaging, or basic anatomy, rather than practical discussions about consent, relationships, and STI prevention. The result? Many students arrive at university under-informed and hesitant to seek help when they need it.
This unease persists despite rising STI rates. Cases of gonorrhoea and syphilis have increased significantly in Australia in recent years, yet many young people remain reluctant to get tested regularly. While self-care culture encourages everything from pilates to juice cleanses to gua sha, STI testing remains conspicuously absent from the conversation. The expectation seems to be that people should be sexually active yet silent, responsible yet discreet. Engaging in sex, but preferably without ever mentioning it.
Beyond testing, student advocates and health professionals argue that more must be done to create an open dialogue about sexual health. An outreach worker at ACON (AIDS Council of New South Wales) highlighted the importance of meeting young people where they are, rather than relying solely on traditional educational settings. "It's not just about having to just [talk to] kids and the teachers in school. It's more about tapping into other adults that the kids are surrounded by as well… and just…normalising that info in these spaces," they said. They emphasised that traditional sex education often assumes a one-size-fits-all approach, which can alienate students with diverse experiences. "Speaking to the actual audience instead of assuming their specific needs and like the general textbook cookie-cutter idea of sexual health [is crucial]. It's about going to spaces, not just schools... such as sporting events or their hobbies or tutoring," they said.
For example, ACON recently launched Word on the Sheets (@wordonthesheets on IG), an online space showcasing academic and health clinician-backed sexual health information for queer and trans women and nonbinary people. These kinds of platforms provide young people with approachable, reliable resources outside of school, an environment that is, at best, inconsistent in fostering open discussions about sexual health.
Ultimately, while initiatives like MyTest offer a practical solution, their very necessity highlights a wider issue: for all the progress made in public health, sex is still seen as something to be managed quietly, rather than discussed openly. Until sexual health is treated with the same casual normalcy as any other aspect of personal wellbeing, testing—whether in a clinic or through a self-test—will remain a task approached with unnecessary hesitation. Education and health services must evolve to meet the realities of young people’s experiences to normalise open dialogue and treatment regarding sexual health.