Teaching Myself Consent

KHARLI MANDEVILLE

One of the first times in my twenties that anyone ever asked me for consent to have sex, I was flabbergasted. I – regretfully – almost wanted to laugh. 

Two great dates and a heavy make-out session in my bed later, I was “given” the option of opting out of sex if I chose. I said yes, I want to have sex. He pulled a condom out of his pocket without my having to ask if we had protection available. It saddens me that at 25-years-old, being approached with respect by someone I was involved with sexually came as a surprise.

I moved from the suburbs of the West Valley to Central Phoenix following a split from a high school boyfriend of six years. At the impressionable dating age of 22, I was immediately thrust into college and single life. I was naïve and optimistic about the men I would encounter. Now, I’m not so sure I was ready to experience the world of casual sex with men more experienced in that capacity than me. 

My first summer as a single young woman, I worked three jobs, lived alone, and took on a full-time university class schedule. The mere idea of an official, full-time relationship with anyone was off the table. I simply did not have the time to emotionally invest in another human being. 

I spent my precious free-time with friends – getting to know people in the city. There were also bars. Lots of bars. Those first months being single were a haze of faces and sex I hardly remember. My line between consensual-casual sex and drunk-casual sex began to thin and blur. 

By the end of the summer, I found myself questioning the empowerment I felt, notching detached sex off my belt. I learned what I thought was the power of apathy in dating very quickly during this time. No one can hurt you if you don’t care about their feelings or actions toward you, right? 

I discovered this wasn’t the case when I awoke to a partner having sex with me during my sleep. 

I realized being led by the hand out of the bar toward sex was no way to maximize my power over my sexuality. Thankfully, my parents taught me to demand respect and of the value of sex positivity, no matter the circumstance, all throughout my life, so I was quickly able to deem his actions unacceptable. I recognized that I was not in control, and what I desperately, and rightfully, craved was power over my body.  I had to be able to make the conscious decision to say yes, or no with a worthy partner if I chose to really utilize that power. 

That experience, among a few key others during my early twenties, was just one symbol of what is truly wrong with the discussion of sex and consent in our society. I hadn’t said no, but I also hadn’t said yes. Silence is not consent. Ever. Period.  

A respectful partner, casual or otherwise, cares about the before, during and after emotional and physical consequences of sexual intimacy. 

It doesn’t matter where, how, when, why, or with whom anyone has sex. What matters in sex is an equal and respected power dynamic between partners. Following that experience, I now demand my every sexual encounter to encompass these values and my right to my sexuality. I demand it for myself, and I demand it for all.