Let's talk about consent

If you’re a first-year, you’ve probably already heard a lot about sexual consent. If you’re a senior, maybe less so. That’s because in the last three years, the ways in which consent is taught and viewed on university and college campuses has changed -- a lot. Much of this change is due to the efforts of student activists and sexual assault survivors who have collectively put pressure on schools to improve their sexual assault policies and administrative measures for handling sexual assault.

A further catalyst for change has been the recent interpretation and application of Title IX. Title IX, a piece of legislation passed in 1972 that outlawed gender discrimination at any educational institution receiving federal funding, was initially known mainly for its impact on college athletics, as it requires schools to fund men’s and women’s athletic programs equally. In more recent years, however, the government has determined that sexual assault and harassment are also forms of gender discrimination and that schools must “take immediate and effective steps to end sexual harassment and sexual violence" or risk losing all federal funding.

What does all of this have to do with sexual consent? In April 2014, Tufts was found to be in violation of Title IX. According to a statement released by the U.S. Department of Education on April 28, Tufts “failed to comply with Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972 to address sexual assault and harassment issues.” National media coverage and massive student rallies led to increased awareness about the issue of sexual assault on campus and also added urgency and leverage to the work that was already being done by groups working with the administration to improve Tufts’ policies for preventing and handling sexual assault.

Since fall 2013, the Tufts Sexual Misconduct Prevention Task Force (a group of students and faculty from all three campuses) has been working to revise and improve Tufts’ Sexual Misconduct Policy. Redefining consent, and thereby redefining sexual assault, has been central to this process. According to Tufts’ most recent Sexual Misconduct Policy (last revised in March 2015), consent “[only]occurs when individuals willingly, unambiguously and knowingly agree to engage in sexual activity in a clear and affirmatively communicated way that is understood by all of the parties involved.” Furthermore, “Consent is active, not passive. Signals of consent must be part of a mutual and ongoing process, offered freely and knowingly.”

Let’s pause here for a moment. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that many of us, if not most of us, have had sexual experiences that were not, by this definition, consensual. Why? Because asking for consent every step of the way is not something that we’re used to doing or seeing. Think of any sex scene you’ve ever seen in any movie. At any point in the sexual encounter did either party ask, “Is this okay? Should we keep going?” Would it have killed the mood if they had? Would it have made the sex scene less sexy?

Many critics of affirmative consent -- the type of consent policy to which Tufts subscribes, also sometimes referred to as a “yes means yes” approach -- have argued that affirmative consent is not viable, awkward and perhaps even a threat to individual liberty. Although engaging in affirmative consent practices in every sexual encounter and at every stage of a sexual encounter may be unfamiliar, uncommon, and initially a bit obtrusive, I would argue that affirmative consent is, or at least has the potential to be, an extremely sexy feature of sex. Before you laugh, let me explain.

Have you ever had someone you really weren’t into try to stick their tongue down your throat while they were dancing with you? Yeah, not super hot. Now imagine your partner breathlessly whispering into your ear how much they want to go down on you and then coyly asking, “May I?” Or what about this: You’re in bed with someone (hopefully consensually), and they ask you, “Does this feel good? Should I keep going?” Compare that to someone who doesn’t ask you what you want or what feels good for you. Somehow that’s supposed to be hotter? Am I missing something here? As one journalist put it, “If you need ambiguous consent to sustain your schwing, you’re doing something terribly, terribly wrong.”

Whether you’re practicing consent with someone you just met or with someone you’ve been dating for years, "yes means yes" isn’t just about avoiding unwanted sex but also about making wanted sex better. Asking for consent might be new to you, and it might be uncomfortable at first, but it’s extremely important because it shows that you respect the sexual autonomy of your partner, and it has the potential to be incredibly sexy when done in the right way.