Posts Tagged ‘consent’

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Talking About Consent Isn’t Awkward: It’s Sexy!

7.26.10 Ashley | No Comments »

A common question I hear when I talk about consent is “how does one have completely consensual sex?” What the person asking is usually trying to say is that asking for a “yes” during sex kills the mood or makes it awkward; from my personal sex experience, this is not so.

Before I even start to do anything of a physical nature, my boyfriend and I ALWAYS ask each other if the other wants to have sex. Because sometimes you are simply not in the mood- and no matter what the reason, that’s okay. It does NOT mean that you do not love your partner, or that your relationship is bad, or that you do not enjoy sex. A number of factors contribute to sex, and you could be tired, not feeling well, stressed, pre-occupied, etc. Too many people think that once you are in a relationship it is acceptable to expect sex whenever: sorry, sex is not a perk of dating, and consent is still important no matter how involved with your partner you are.

That being said, the definition of consent is going to change from person to person. I do not need my boyfriend to seek consent from me before or during foreplay, but some people might be more comfortable if their sexual partners seek verbal consent for and during foreplay. The thruline isn’t about when consent is obtained or for what activity: the point is that consent is important, no matter what your comfort level. Before we have sex my boyfriend always checks to make sure I still want to, and I feel comfortable telling him when “no.” That is something that every single person who has sex should feel comfortable doing.

In my opinion, consent is sexy. There is no bigger turn on to me than knowing my boyfriend cares about me and respects me enough to make sure that I am 100% into whatever we are doing. So I have consensual sex, and I have it all the time. Asking someone, “hey, are you okay with this?” isn’t awkward: it’s sexy.

Making a Hot Mess out of “Feminist” TV

7.8.10 Nancy | 17 Comments »

500_MaxHeadroom4Not too long ago, I was invited to participate in a television pilot for ladies, purporting to tackle the complicated issues relevant to our lives. The tone would be snarky, Jezebel-esque, and “sexy”. I got excited when I learned who the producer was, and full disclosure, I’m pretty easy when you drop words like “pilot” and “L.A.” Sweetening the deal, Jessica Valenti and Anna Holmes were moderating. How could I say no to feminist TV? The technical details of my participation were precarious – like Max Headroom, I would be a disembodied head floating on a computer screen wedged between leather couches. For the sake of anonymity, let’s call the TV segment, Hot Mess.

Hot Mess was described as a panel. Having served on a bunch of panels this year, I imagined a table, a discussion, moderators, a series of points to address, group participation and a friendly/feisty/constructive tone. Hot Mess had emailed me the list of potential discussion topics, and I would be part of the rape panel that they dubbed “consent aka ‘the line’”.  Again, flattery will get you everywhere, and using the title of my film to get at the issue, stroke- stroke – stroke.

Some of their “get ready” questions were off the charts problematic, but they followed them up with sound research into the complexity of consent, rape laws, and recent current events in the college sphere. You smart wonderful people on the internet had much to say when I posted the questions for debate in advance of the taping, and speaking from experience, Heather Corinna tweeted her warnings:

@thelinecampaign These are some really uneducated questions they’ve put to you.

@thelinecampaign Don’t suppose they consulted/included a sexuality educator/sexologist, eh?

@thelinecampaign It’s just you and then a bunch of COMEDIANS talking about all of this!? Sounds like they want a hot mess by design.

Things started to unravel when I logged into the live-stream and saw folks lounging on couches. Beaming in from Brooklyn, I went for  the “smart filmmaker” setting, and placed myself in my cluttered (creative?) looking office. Everyone was chatting on leather, I was drumming my fingers on my desktop high above from my plasma screen. I placed the call on Skype testing the sound, and realized there was a delay between sound and image. Gulp. I could hear and be heard in real time, but had to guess who was speaking in the room and when/if if the cameras were going to cut to me.

Can anyone hear me?

Is this thing on?

Remember that Metallica video?

500_JOHNNYGOTHISGUN1
That was me. Alert, aware, but not being heard.

I was told that the 30 second trailer of my film would be used to “kick off” the conversation and we’d go around one by one, with some guidance from the moderator, and discuss the multidimensional and complicated topic of rape. We’d use smart, snarky analysis of a real – not imagined, not whined about, not exaggerated, not falsely claimed- problem.

Instead, egged on by the producer, participants – not the moderators – were encouraged to take what they saw in the trailer and the one sentence synopsis of my rape (she consented to vaginal sex, and then was raped anally) and debate. It didn’t occur to me that a producer would structure a conversation around my film when no one had seen it, nor was it ever articulated that my body parts and my rape would be at the center of this debate.

One comedian played the hard-ass role throwing out phrases like: “play the victim,” “you didn’t say no,” “take responsibility,”, “put yourself in that situation”- and all manner of victim-blaming crap, none of which I haven’t heard before. Choosing to go public with my rape seven years ago, opened the door to all kinds of criticism of my person and of my right to come forward and call out the behavior. People questioned whether or not my experience “counts” as rape, and my personal favorite, whether or not my rape was “bad enough.” In what I call “the hater montage,” I include these presumptions in the film, to highlight and challenge rape myths. It works because its part of a larger, structured story and argument, unlike being broadsided for an imagined audience’s entertainment.

Moderators Jessica and Anna did their best to shut it down by cutting in and correcting rape apologists, but the monkeys flinging shit had been let out of their cage. Here are my freakouts on twitter:

Ok, the room has officially exploded, and I’m not being given the opportunity to speak. At all. Nor has anyone in the room seen my film.

Woah – this is surreal. They are fiercely debating my story – and rape – and responsibility – w/out my fucking voice

WOW – someone just said, unless you kick the ass of the man trying to #rape you, or pull out a gun, you’re not being raped

“You are raped bc you’re unlucky enough to be in the presence of a rapist” – @jessicavalenti (thank you, darling)

Oh, and note to self: Don’t ever debate YOUR #rape on skype when everyone else is in a room, and you’re cutting in and out. TECH FAIL

OMG – we are done. Would you ever want to have #sex w/someone who called your ass “a dirt button”? Gross.

Sisterhood was not alive in that L.A. studio. The gals making Hot Mess thought smart, “sexy” debate meant humiliating their guests, taking cues from Bill O’Reilly, Howard Stern and any right wing talk show pundit with a penis. I am fine with outrage, but — it has to be constructive. Amping people up to be haters for no reason other than to hate or get attention is fucked up. Maybe the bigger question is how do we ever talk about rape in the context of pop entertainment? What are the rules? What do we want to get out of it?” If they’re going for the Jezebel and Feministing audience, those of us weaned on bitchy, smart, funny content that critiques sexism, rape myths and misogyny, being an asshole to be “provocative” isn’t going to cut it. Its just not that interesting.

My experience in the hot seat of Hot Mess reminded me – like a slap in the face- a few basic media principles. As a filmmaker and producer, respect your subjects. They are not objects or props to be used or humiliated. Honor them. And as a subject and author of your life, remember – your story is your story. It is sacred, precious and individually yours. Find and maintain your boundaries about how and with whom you share your story. Call the shots and don’t forget you’re in control.

So yea, if you’re trying to make “feminist” TV, and you’re going to tackle big important lady topics like rape, to quote Jon Stewart, “I’m not going to be your monkey.”

Me Quiero, Me Cuido

7.7.10 Ingrid | 3 Comments »

Being the quintessential Gemini that I am, I have been at odds with a lot of what is happening right now in my life while trying to figure out what my line really is. I’ve been involved with THE LINE Campaign since January of this year, starting the new year fresh with fem-fucking-power, and it has taken up a permanent spot in my heart, mind and soul. Not only does it re-awaken my feminist spirit every single day, but I have become part of the bigger movement and that has given me the courage to speak out.

A good friend of mine recently told me that I should watch what I say. Although I do admit that I don’t (always) think before I leap, I just can’t keep my mouth shut when I don’t agree with something(or somebody). He told me this after I posted a public note on the door of his building shouting out the sexist, violent asshole on the sixth floor that catcalls womyn from the stoop and thinks that hog-tying his beautiful german shepherd is “funny”. I felt that he needs to be publicly embarrassed and all the womyn living in the same building as him need to be aware of this creep. An hour later, another note appeared in the same place as the prior one stating “I know it was you, you bitch, you fucking cunt.” Obviously he couldn’t think of anything to say except to respond with vulgarities.

I don’t think that I say enough sometimes.

But back to what I was saying..

I’ve been in the city for over a week now, after traveling around New Orleans, then to Detroit for the US Social Forum. I’ve had some time now to organize and sift through my thoughts and feelings, however I am all-over-the-place and can’t seem to do much gathering. I’ve been thinking about where I stand in love and relationships frequently recently because I am seeing someone exclusively, but I’ve realized that I never reach satisfaction in any relationship because I always feel like there is something missing. For the last three years, I’ve succumbed to the fusion of another human being’s life with my own and haven’t had any time on my own.

Shit, I want to be selfish right now. I want to not worry about anyone else’s need besides my own. Fuck male domination, fuck societal paternal pressure of fucking your partner out of pity and fuck men colonizing womyn of color into relationships to obtain control over our lives. I see/hear/feel it with myself and whomever I talk to. Despite whatever madness (or realty) I may afflict, I haven’t felt this rounded and comfortable with myself– ever.

I steal the title of this post from the COLORR (Colorado Organization for Latina Opportunity and Reproductive Rights) girls who I met at USSF at their sexual health ‘zine-makin’ workshop. We ended the workshop in a circle holding-hands reciting Assata Shakur “to my people”, then placing our hands over our hearts and pussies (or cocks) while saying “me quiero, me cuido”. Translation: I love myself, then I’ll take care of myself.

Looking for the Yes

7.7.10 Ashley | 1 Comment »

My whole life as a woman, I was told how to avoid rape. The usual advice of not dressing “slutty”, not parking far away from buildings, not going out after dark, not going places alone. All of these “precautions” were a reaction to the stranger myth of rape and sexual assault- the theory that a woman will be attacked by a complete stranger. It never occurred to me that I could be assaulted by someone I knew: I went on dates with men and never thought to be afraid of them or their roommates, although they certainly also could have raped me as soon as any stranger. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, but certain lines were crossed.

I went on a few dates with a guy I will call “The Eternal Frat Boy” due to his love of drinking and partying- constantly. He was a nice guy, but somewhat of a “player.” Either way, The Eternal Frat Boy and I ended up in his room making out. One thing led to another and eventually he just grabbed my hand and stuck it down his pants. When I froze and didn’t do anything, he became upset. Eventually he just let it drop, but looking back on that scenario I have multiple thoughts on the situation, including the coercion ploy of his being upset, his lack of interest in obtaining consent, the lasting feeling of shame and embarassment that I felt afterward, and lastly: the fact that I am in no way alone in telling a story like this one.

When women assert themselves in not wanting to do something sexual, they are told that they are prudish, naive, and unsatisfactory. It is total crap. We have the right to say when we are uncomfortable, even if our Eternal Frat Boys weren’t expecting it.

Another scenario involves the “California Boy.” We went out a few times, ended up making out and at one point we started to get semi-naked. We were making out when I felt his fingers moving towards my vagina, and I quickly asked what he was doing. He shushed me and stuck his finger inside of me. Was it as traumatic as other forms of sexual assault or rape? No. Was it invasive, scary, semi-traumatic, and wrong? Yes. He never asked me if I wanted him. A common theme explored in “Yes means Yes!: Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape,” the anthology edited by Jaclyn Friedman and Jessica Valenti, is the need to focus on exploring the “Yes” of sex and not the “No” of violation. There are too many people that think women who don’t say “yes” still want sex. This is not true.

Sadly enough, I did not really come to terms with what consent was until I began dating my current boyfriend. One night we began kissing and he stopped, looked at me, and said, “are you sure you want to do this?” I was honestly taken aback. Two seconds forever changed how I look at consent. This is how every sexual encounter of any kind should be for everyone: one or both partners looking for the “yes.”

Where I Feel SAFE.

7.6.10 Sarah H. | 1 Comment »

Photo 101

The issue of consent, and our respective lines, came up fairly early in mine and my partner’s relationship. The morning after a night of heavy drinking, he asked if we had had sex that night. I replied that we hadn’t:  he was much too drunk, and I didn’t want to take advantage of him. He didn’t seem to find a problem with sex in such a state of inebriation, explaining that “having sex is something we would have done drunk or sober.”

My partner and I have very different views on what constitutes consent. For him, the green light is given at the beginning of the relationship, while I feel safer granting permission, be it verbally or nonverbally, each time, and staying in full control of my body and the situation. These kinds of boundaries must be reconciled and respected in order for any relationship to work.

I made it very clear at that point that if I am drunk- repeating conversations; blacked out; falling asleep in an alcohol-induced slumber- or otherwise too under the influence to make a conscious, responsible decision about whether or not I want to have sex, then I am to be left alone to pass out in peace. Even more unpleasant than a hangover is the feeling of being violated.

There is no gesture sexier, more attractive, more moving, or more conveying of respect, than waking up to find yourself still in last night’s clothes, curled into the same fetal position in which you fell asleep (with a blanket protectively draped over you), and turning over to see your partner fully clothed as well, surrounded by obvious signs of sexless evening. For me, that strict observance of my boundaries and respect for my line, my sense of safety, is more romantic than any traditional display of affection; consent is the modern woman’s jewelry and flowers and chocolates and white horses and chivalrous brouhaha.

How one defines safety in a sexual situation is difficult, as it is a concept that is subjective, often circular in its logic, and privy to changing at a moment’s notice. For me, however, safety is as simple as being with someone with whom saying “yes” is just as easy as saying “no.”

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