For many, college is a chance to swim in one of the biggest potential mating pools ever to be swum in — perhaps whilst talking up the honeys, you have phrased it in a different way. This, plus the alcohol that lubricates so many of our social interactions, makes the question of sexual consent incredibly important. The "one in four women raped in college" statistic is probably familiar to you, and during the orientation pipeline, you may vaguely remember a presentation about sexual conduct, alcohol and rape.
You've heard the word "consent" enough that it sounds like little more than a dull buzz, but what does it actually mean? In his column ("A discussion of rape and consent," Feb. 17), David Hefer '12 presents three conditions — consent must be capacitated, informed and voluntary. But the most pressing aspect of this is, how do we actually use these concepts in real life?
There are plenty of things we don't voluntarily agree to do. If you make a habit of going out in public, there's a good chance you end up being watched on security cameras. Your friends may occasionally take unwanted pictures of you when you're not looking, or while you're making an unattractive expression or wearing only your pajamas and a pink wig, for instance. We tend to laugh off, ignore or, at most, express minor annoyance over these things. What makes sexual consent different is that it directly involves another person's body and vulnerability. That's where things become messy and confusing — to the point where even people who care about dismantling rape culture hand wave the issue and call it a "gray area."
How about capacitated consent? This might sound familiar: Person X got really drunk and had sex with person Y. It "just sort of happened." No one wants to call their acquaintances, classmates or friends rapists. And the person who suffered the rape may not want to take on the heavy mantle of a "rape survivor." But it's rape all the same — reality isn't neatly polarized into dark alleyways and violent encounters. Rape happens at parties with people you could run into on the street on your way to class.
Say you don't like this scenario. How many of you have said yes to sex you weren't incredibly down for? Was this person someone you would otherwise trust? How many of you have wheedled someone who didn't particularly want to do anything sexual into agreeing? Did you use force, manipulation or threats? I suspect many readers could easily say yes to all of these questions. If you define consent as something that cannot be coerced, then, in these situations, there is a very good chance you have either enacted or experienced sexual violation.
Maybe this doesn't have to be complicated. No means no, and that is that. But you've learned nothing by throwing your hands up like this. I believe this is what Hefer is getting at when he talks about whether any consent is truly voluntary — "no" is an undesirable answer no matter what the context. You say "yes" to a responsibility you can't quite take on. You say "yes" to a night out when you'd rather stay in. Why would it be any easier to say "no" to sex, a situation already complicated by self-esteem, desire, self-image — not to mention the implicit societal messages you're constantly bombarded with about how you should deal with this otherwise natural appetite? Moreover, how often in life do you give an explicit "no"? You say, "I'm sorry, I just don't think I can make it," not, "No, I can't go." You say, "I'm not sure about that," instead of, "No, I don't like the idea." Likewise, you've got to work with all kinds of nonverbal cues to figure out or give sexual consent.
Ah! But to say that the person requesting consent must be the one decoding all these cues is to put unreasonable expectations on one party and treat the other as lacking agency or spine, yes? No. And again: no. An ideal world would be one in which everyone felt equipped to be clear-headedly responsible for their own sexual actions, a world in which every sex-related "yes" was a "hell yes," in which all kinds of people were honest with themselves and others about their desires — a constant and difficult task to actually execute on a daily basis. True equality would require work and honesty on everyone's part.
But modern America, from what I've seen of it, is largely a sexually squeamish place, even here at Brown where we congratulate ourselves on how progressive we are. To actually drive down rape and other sexual inequalities, you've got to convince everyone of this — it's crucial to acknowledge that there's a lot more going on than a simple "yes" or "no" when you ask or receive consent.
Camille Spencer-Salmon '14 did not consent to that picture of her in pajamas and a pink wig. Thanks, suite.
