Girls first learn to regard boys with avoidance and antagonism. The brother-sister taboo governs interactions with male relatives, and small girls treat unrelated boys as adversaries. This hostility softens around ages 13 and 14, when children approaching puberty drift away from age-group rivalries and enter a brief, emotionally neutral period of mixed-sex socializing marked by good-natured teasing. These contacts are neither frequent nor deep enough to foster real cooperation or appreciation of individual personality across sexes.

Two or three years later, the dynamic shifts. Girls become giggly and evasive; boys grow shy and avoid girls in daylight. Courtship requires a trusted intermediary called a soa. A boy’s first sexual experience often comes with an older woman, while a girl’s first lover is frequently an older man—neither arrangement fits the community’s recognized relationship categories, but both are extremely common, so that sexual encounters seldom involve two inexperienced partners. Significant age gaps between partners provoke either humor or disapproval; community censure falls hardest on a man who pursues a young dependent of his own household, which leads to accusations of incest.

Beyond formal marriage, the community recognizes only two categories of sexual relationship: affairs between unmarried peers, and adultery. Unmarried courtship takes three forms: clandestine encounters “under the palm trees” (63) published elopement (avaga), and formal courtship where the boy “sits before the girl” (63). A fourth practice—moetotolo, or sleep crawling—is described as a form used by youths unable to attract willing partners. In moetotolo, the young man enters a house at night and relies on the girl mistaking him for an expected lover or accepting his presence without recognizing him. Discovery brings public humiliation: The girl raises an alarm, and members of her household give chase, with women especially active in pursuit; if caught, the young man becomes a village laughingstock. Motives attributed to moetotolo include revenge against a girl who breaks a rendezvous and failure in legitimate courtship. Once branded, a young man known for moetotolo finds no willing female partner and sometimes forms relationships with other men while waiting until he is older and has a position and title to offer.

Clandestine affairs are typically brief, with both parties sometimes maintaining several simultaneously. When low-ranking lovers develop genuine attachment over months, marriage sometimes follows. Formal courtship involves the suitor bringing food gifts to the girl’s household; acceptance signals family approval. The soa openly courts the girl while covertly presenting his friend’s case. The true suitor sits apart, watching silently for subtle signals. If the courtship progresses to an accepted engagement, the couple often consummates the union before the formal wedding, which awaits the accumulation of sufficient property.

The taupo is exempt from casual experimentation. Her virginity is a legal requirement, publicly verified at her wedding by the bridegroom’s talking chief. Failure brings violent punishment from her female relatives. While Christianity introduces a moral premium on chastity, Samoans view this with skepticism; nevertheless, virginity genuinely enhances a girl’s desirability, and seducing a virgin is considered the highest amorous achievement.

The taupo is guarded by a constant chaperone and is restricted from visiting other houses alone. Marriage to a boy within her own village is nearly unthinkable; tradition dictates that she marries a high chief or manaia from another village in an elaborate ceremony arranged entirely by talking chiefs, with little regard for the girl’s own wishes. During the betrothal period, a talking chief remains in the bride’s household as the groom’s emissary, and increasingly strict conduct is expected of the girl. If her intended husband reconsiders, he may instruct this emissary to find fault with her behavior. If the taupo finds her betrothed unacceptable, she may elope with a boy from a rival village—an act that enormously boosts the abductor’s prestige but infuriates her family, who might marry her to an old man as punishment.

The elopement pattern filters down to lower ranks, where it serves mainly as a public declaration rather than a necessity. The eloping girl risks public renunciation of virginity and family punishment, yet the practice persists because boys value the display and girls hope elopement will lead to marriage. If a family opposes a union, elopement is sometimes the couple’s only recourse, though without formal property exchange, they remain stigmatized indefinitely.

Samoan love-making follows verbal conventions—declarations of devotion, love songs, invocations of nature—that superficially resemble Western romance. However, romantic love as understood in Western civilization, with its ideals of monogamy, exclusiveness, and enduring fidelity, does not exist in Samoa. Marriage is treated as a social and economic arrangement. Fidelity among older couples reflects the subsiding of sexual preoccupation rather than passionate attachment. Adultery does not automatically dissolve a marriage; consequences depend on the relative rank of offender and offended. A serious trespass may require the offender to perform ifoga—sitting in public humiliation outside the injured party’s house, draped in fine mats, until forgiveness is granted. Divorce, by contrast, is simple: The non-resident spouse simply goes home.

Within marriage, a wife serves her husband and derives her village status entirely from his title. If her husband loses rank, so does she. Women of high birth sometimes face conflicts between loyalty to their husband’s household and loyalty to their own blood relatives, with residence usually determining which allegiance prevails.

Dancing is the only activity in which nearly all ages and both sexes participate, making it a central setting for understanding Samoan education and socialization. Dances range from small informal gatherings of a dozen people to elaborate performances at weddings or malagas. Even at small events, the convention divides performers into hosts and visitors who take turns providing music and dancing. There are virtuosos but no formal teachers, and learning occurs through participation within this social setting.

Young children learn to dance at these informal occasions. Toddlers absorb rhythmic clapping from infancy, and by age seven or eight, children are called out to perform before the group. The audience provides small children with shouts of encouragement and correction, while more skilled dancers receive steady praise from the group. Talented children receive more opportunities to perform, rapidly outpacing peers through a combination of superior ability and increased practice. Older participants prepare elaborate costumes of flowers, shells, bark skirts, and coconut oil.

Three distinct dance styles exist: the taupo’s dance, which is stately, aloof, and sometimes languorous or provocative in quality; the boys’ dance, which is athletic and exuberant, emphasizing rhythmic body-slapping; and the jester’s dance, performed by talking chiefs and elders as comic counterpoint to the taupo. Individual dancers choose from roughly 25 to 30 figures and a few set transitions, composing highly personal performances. Children do not appear to learn by directly copying specific individuals; similarities in style emerge despite efforts to maintain individuality. Only conspicuous borrowing of a single distinctive move was acknowledged, and even that carried no stigma.

The dance functions as an important part of children’s education. First, it counteracts the rigid subordination children normally experience. On the dance floor, children occupy a central position, receive praise, and are valued as individuals regardless of age or sex. The usual prohibition against “presuming above one’s age” (90) is entirely suspended. This emphasis on individuality sometimes undermines group choreography, as ambitious youngsters dance in disregard of one another, though formal ceremonial dances impose sufficient gravity to restore coordination. In contrast to these informal settings, highly formal dances are restricted and offer little opportunity for children to participate. Second, dancing reduces shyness. Even the most self-conscious children are expected to perform, and habitual exposure to the public eye cultivates control of movement and greater ease, particularly noticeable in adolescent boys.

The dance floor also functions as the one arena where the community actively discriminates by ability, applauding the talented and marginalizing the clumsy. This creates one of the few sources of inferiority feelings in Samoan society. This is illustrated with Masina, a girl several years past puberty who cannot dance. Masina is shy, awkward, and socially marginal; all her love affairs are brief and insignificant, and no one seeks to marry her.

Physical defects are not disqualifying; rather, each disability is creatively incorporated. A hunchbacked boy performs an ingenious turtle imitation; an albino dances with aggressive skill; a deaf-mute chief’s brother uses his gutturals as accompaniment. A child’s behavior while dancing often differs markedly from everyday conduct, with quiet children showing sophistication and more boisterous children displaying unexpected grace. At formal events and midnight malaga gatherings, dance can become openly provocative, but its most important function lies in encouraging individuality and providing an outlet for forms of expression that are restricted in other areas of Samoan life.

Samoan evaluations of personality blend caution with fatalism. The concept of musu—a term denoting unwillingness or intractability—is applied uniformly to a mistress refusing a lover, a chief withholding his kava bowl, or a baby refusing sleep. When someone becomes musu, others abandon their efforts with minimal complaint or inquiry into underlying motives. This acceptance of behavior is accompanied by little curiosity about individual motivation. The standard reply to any question about personal motivation was “search me” (Ta ilo), considered a perfectly adequate answer. Plans are dropped, marriages are abandoned, and children may refuse to live at home, all attributed simply to being musu, with village gossip noting the fact but not pursuing its cause.

One exception exists: Illness prompts a formal household investigation. Relatives gather for a kava ceremony and are solemnly asked to confess any anger they harbor toward the sick person, since a sister’s or relative’s hidden resentment is believed capable of causing harm. Detailed confessions of petty grievances follow, but this ritual only highlights how unusual such inquiry is in everyday life.

The lack of privacy forms part of the social context in which behavior is observed. Samoans live in open houses with numerous occupants; possessions are communal and easily given away; every individual’s activity are public knowledge. Mead describes an informant’s outrage that nobody knows the father of a particular baby—an almost unheard-of lapse in communal surveillance. To compensate, Samoans maintain a strong reserve about emotional attitudes: they may acknowledge actions openly but do not disclose whether they feel love or dislike.

The Samoan language does not have a regular comparative form, and informants tend to avoid ranking individuals by wisdom or virtue, defaulting to “they are all good” (88). Distinguishing the wicked proves easier, likely due to missionary influence providing a concrete list of sins. Character descriptions follow an objective formula—sex, age, rank, relationship, defects, activities—with spontaneous personality commentary remaining rare. Behavior is classified using paired terms: “good/bad” describe actions, while “easy/difficult” refer to disposition. A child who obeys readily is said to “listen easily,” as though compliance is a fixed trait like eyesight.

Emotional expression is similarly categorized as “caused” or “uncaused.” A moody, easily upset person is described as laughing, crying, or showing anger “without cause”—meaning without apparent external stimulus. This represents the closest approach to describing differences in temperament. Excessive emotion, strong preferences, and intense attachments are discouraged; the cultural ideal favors moderation and balance.

The most disliked trait among peers is fiasili (“desiring to be highest”) (90), essentially arrogance or showing off. From elders, the corresponding rebuke is tautala laititi (“presuming above one’s age”) (90). In casual conversation, explanations for behavior often refer to physical defects or recent events. Judgments of character are always calibrated to the person’s age group: small children are expected to be quiet and obedient; young people industrious, discreet, and loyal; adults wise, peaceable, and dignified. Across all ages, the preferred personality is quiet, demure, and unassuming rather than bold or conspicuous.

Mead turns from cultural context to the specific group of girls aged 10 to 20 in three villages on the lee side of Taū. The youngest girls’ primary occupation is baby-tending. They can also reef-fish, weave simple objects, climb coconut trees, swim, and dance. Their knowledge of biological realities—birth, death, sex—is disproportionately advanced compared to their grasp of social organization or ceremonial etiquette. They cannot speak the courtesy language beyond a handful of phrases, which excludes them from adult conversations. They use kinship terms loosely and lack command of linguistic processes for building new vocabulary.

These children witness birth, death, and often the post-mortem Caesarean operation perform on dead pregnant women in open graves—a grim procedure combining grief, horror, and fascination. Yet such experiences seem to leave no lasting emotional damage, as they are treated by adults as natural, recurring events. In sexual matters, the 10-year-olds are equally knowledgeable, though all expressions of affection are rigorously barred from public view. Married couples avoid even touching hands publicly, and the salutation of rubbing noses is as impersonal as a handshake. Nevertheless, the lack of domestic privacy and the use of palm groves for romantic encounters mean children inevitably witness intercourse. Masturbation is nearly universal from age six or seven, learned from other children. Casual homosexual activity supplements it among older children and adults. The adult prohibition concerns only the unseemliness of open indulgence rather than the acts themselves.

Pre-adolescent heterosexual experimentation is rare, however, owing less to parental prohibition than to the strong institutionalized antagonism between younger boys and girls and the taboo on friendly cross-sex interaction. This rigid separation is linked to the lack of specialized sexual feeling in adults, since girls categorized all non-related males collectively rather than as distinct individuals.

Mead then describes individual girls to illustrate the range of temperament and circumstance. Nine-year-old Tita behaves like a much younger child, while her near-contemporary Pele, who cares for her older sister’s baby, remains cheerful thanks to her central place in a robust neighborhood gang. Tuna, whose care responsibilities are made more difficult, appears more calculating but is also treated with extra gentleness by her companions. Fitu, the eldest daughter in one of the village’s rare small biological families becomes responsible and takes on organizational roles, as her mother, Lalala, leaves much of the household management to her. Fitu’s younger sister, Ula, relies on her attractiveness and avoids some responsibilities. Children in small biological families are described as showing more clearly defined personalities, greater initiative, and stronger attachments to their parents, in contrast to those in larger households.

Girls approaching puberty—Malui, Meta, Ipu, Vi, and others—are transitioning from play to productive work without any accompanying change in attitude. No ceremony marks menstruation; girls report only mild discomfort, and Samoan women find descriptions of severe menstrual pain bizarre and amusing. Puberty does not immediately precede sexual experience; a year or more typically elapses before a girl attracts an older boy’s attention, since conventions discourage both boys and girls from “presuming above their age” (90).

Among girls a few years past puberty, residence in a pastor’s household is associated with greater sexual restriction. Ela, an exception who is taken back into a pastor’s home despite her experience, maintains a close friendship with her cousin Talo—the only girl in the group who has sexual experience before menstruation. Their homosexual relationship is described as contributing to Talo’s precocity and providing companionship for Ela within the restrictions of the household. Casual homosexual relations between girls are treated as temporary diversions without lasting significance. Mead describes only one case of a persistent same-sex orientation on the island: Sasi, a 20-year-old male divinity student who is described as somewhat feminine in manner, skilled at women’s work, and makes continual advances to other boys. Girls treat him as an amusing figure, while men respond with annoyance and contempt.

Mead describes several sexually active girls. Fala, Tolu, and Namu, three cousins, engage in frequent liaisons with local and visiting boys while working hard at adult tasks. Luna, daughter of an elderly chief concerned with prestige, enters casual relationships after leaving a pastor’s household, emphasizing her youth and reluctance to settle down. Lotu, a church member in a small biological family, maintains a faithful relationship with an illegitimate chief’s son who cannot marry her without jeopardizing his claim to his father’s title; she reconciles her churchgoing with her transgression through the quiet reasoning that she would have married if circumstances permitted. One unnamed girl in a high chief’s household acts as a devoted, self-effacing caretaker, assisting others and having only one brief relationship.

The case of Moana illustrates a more complex situation. Moana, a young girl whose conduct leads her parents to send her to her uncle’s household, becomes involved in a sexual relationship with him. This situation comes to wider attention when Moana’s older half-sister Sila, who is strongly attached to the same uncle, reacts with anger. Sila’s response brings attention to the relationship and leads to conflict within the family and differing views within the village. When another sister later dies during pregnancy, the family summons the same uncle to perform the post-mortem operation. When he later announces his intention to marry a girl from another island, Sila shows intense distress despite maintaining her own relationship at the time.

Girls in pastors’ households lead more regulated lives, substituting group activities for romantic adventures. They show slightly greater interest in salacious material, form stronger friendships outside their kinship groups, and work better cooperatively, though they are less conscious of their standing within their own families.

Mead concludes that, with a few exceptions to be discussed in the following chapter, adolescence in Samoa represents no period of crisis or stress. It was instead an orderly maturation of interests and activities. The girls’ minds are not troubled by philosophical conflicts or remote ambitions. Their shared, satisfying goal was to live as unmarried girls with many lovers for as long as possible, then marry within their own village, near their relatives, and have many children.