“Handing down the verdict, Tzvi Segal, one of three judges on the case, acknowledged that sex had been consensual but said that although not “a classical rape by force,” the woman would not have consented if she had not believed Kashur was Jewish.”

It’s a pretty clear cut racist thing here, so even most radical feminists will disagree with this verdict, but that doesn’t answer the more profound problems posed by the notion of “consent” by such a verdict.

Could a man claim “rape by deception” if a woman later reveals she is in a relationship even though he was *at the point* happy to have sex with her? Should a woman be allowed to claim rape by deception because a man she wanted to have sex with lied about his financial status? Is there specific information that potential sexual partners should be legally obliged to declare correctly prior to enganging in sexual activity?

There is no doubt that “lying about oneself to get him/her into bed” is not exactly good behaviour, but consent to personal interactions cannot be dealt with with standards developed for commercial interactions, because personal interactions cannot be undone once they happened. And ex-post declarations about what one would have or would not have done knowing what has been revealed thereafter are nothing but hypothetical.

She may claim that she would not have consented to sex given the information that he is not Jewish, but who knows whether she may still have consented in the moment because she was sufficiently aroused to not care about the guy’s ethnicity… maybe her later retraction of “consent” has nothing to do with consent to sex and a lot to do with the state of her community.

It’s a crime to punish people based on hypotheticals, and it’s a ridiculous assumption that people are always aware of the criteria they use for making decisions in the moment.

Giving them the opportunity to later withdraw their decisions based on criteria formulated ex-post is absurd – in other words – it’s crossing the line.

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Editor’s Note: This piece was submitted to us by Sam.

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.

Photo via Álvaro Canivell on flickr.

Today I was browsing facebook at work (don’t tell my boss!) and I saw a status from a girl I went to high school with.  Admittedly, I don’t know her all that well, but as one of the few other out-and-proud people I know to come out of that school, I feel some solidarity with her. Her status was:

niggas get salty as shit when they find out a female is GAY.get over it.if i was straight i wouldnt want your ass anyways. =) have a good day!

I nodded in agreement.  Sure, I’m not entirely sure what it means to get salty, but if has anything to do with men getting hostile when you spurn their advances, I totally get it.  I read through the comments, most of which were other women, both straight and gay, agreeing that men really need to take a hint when they are barking up the wrong tree, whether or not the ‘tree’ in question is queer.  Of course, one guy told her “U bad n niggaz is gon holla get ova it gurl…lol.”  Of course, an attractive woman of ANY sexual orientation really should just “get over it. “  Sexual harassment is just part of a woman’s life, like death and taxes.

Of course, I’m never content to leave well enough alone.  I commented,

In reference to this comment: “U bad n niggaz is gon holla get ova it gurl…lol”
Geez, D—- [name redacted], don’t you know that as a women, especially a woman of color, your body is communal property for men to ogle at and, if they so desire, possess? Regardless of whether or not you ascribe to their misogynistic, heterosexist worldview. Duh.
Fuck that.  T elling a woman to “get over” sexual harassment, especially harassment rooted so deeply in homophobia, is disgusting. Reacting poorly to the news that a woman is gay is essentially admitting that you view all heterosexual women as potential sexual conquests. Is that REALLY how you feel about 50% of the population?
Good on you, D—-, for calling that bullshit out

And I firmly stand behind what I said.  Is it playing into the kyriarchy to interject my privileged white view of the situation into a conversation among people of color?  Probably.  But the beautiful thing about the kyriarchy is that it doesn’t oppress in a straight line.  It’s impossible to say who comes from a place of more privilege when a white, queer woman challenges a statement made by a black, straight man.  That doesn’t mean this statement didn’t get me into trouble:

@ M  Wow. Not necessarily agreeing with the referenced comment but it would seem like most of the hollering happens before the guy finds out Danielle is gay. You might have picked the wrong example to use for your argument. Thats what her status is implying. If anything dudes trying to get at a girl is a testament to her attractiveness.
What does her being a “woman of color” have to do with anything? Is that your selling point so you can spew your empty rhetoric? People in general ogle and desire and eventually attempt to possess what they find appealing. I dont see that in anyway misogynistic.
With that being said I dont think men should get upset when a female tells you she is gay. Just respect it, brush it off and move on to one of the straight fish in the sea…”

Oh, you’re right.  I’m sorry, it has nothing to do with homophobia.  I forgot, women of all sexual orientations  are property. And so, I replied:

T—, do a little research. Try googling “hottentot venus,” for example. There is centuries of precedent for women of color being eroticized as being “exotic” or exceptionally sexual. Literature of the early 20th century, especially, ingrained in American culture that black women were particularly dangerous in their excessive sexuality.
As for their “hollering” occurring before they know she’s gay — I acknowledge that. I don’t, however, rescind my judgment of that being misogynistic. When a man makes an unwanted sexual remark (and, in this case, won’t apologize, and is instead angry, when he discovers exactly how unwanted it is), he is exerting his social power over the woman. Studies show that EIGHTY PERCENT of women worldwide report feeling afraid or threatened on a regular basis by sexual comments from men.
Harassment isn’t a compliment.
And if it the phrase “women of color” that offends you, I apologize. I meant it only as a less specific term to encompass all non-white women. Think about the hypersexualized stereotypes of Latina women or the excessive use of Asian women in fetish pornography. The bodies of non-white women suffer exceptionally under the male gaze.

But I think T— and I got sidetracked.  I don’t think men like T– will ever come around to the idea that repeated, unwanted advances are sexual harassment and that this behavior is based on the idea that women can be possessed and lack the power to say no.  Or maybe I’m wrong and he CAN be enlightened, but ultimately, that isn’t what we started off arguing.  The issue at hand here was that when a lesbian tells a man she isn’t interested BECAUSE SHE IS GAY, he gets angry.  And that anger is on the same continuum with rage.  The kind of rage that kills women like Sakia Gunn, a fifteen year old queer woman of color who was stabbed to death for rebuffing the advances of a stranger.  The kind of rage that gives me flashbacks to waking up in the hospital when the last thing I remember is being outed to a group of men I didn’t know.

When a woman tells a man, “no thanks, I’m a lesbian,” he has no right to be angry.  He does not own this woman or any other.

I am currently volunteering at my old high school. I want to work with teenagers when I finish college somehow, whether I work in social work, law, or education. It has been a great experience so far, especially because of the crazy personalities that are present within the classroom. It is also a plus to be working for my favorite teacher- he is the reason why I am majoring in U.S. History now at Barnard.

So this week, the students were assigned to form groups and create their own political parties. They had to come up with five main issues they wanted to focus on like tax reforms, etc. The most popular issues were abortion and the legalization of marijuana. The teacher left me in charge to help the students with their presentations: the groups had to come up to front of the class and present their political platforms to me while I critiqued and questioned their stance of certain issues. As each group went up, I realized how many of the students were unaware of today’s political climate.

One girl stood out when it was her turn to speak about abortion. Her group felt abortion should be illegal because “it is the woman’s fault if she becomes pregnant.” The majority of the class agreed with her- especially the girls. (The boys of the class didn’t have much to say, and believed that it was the woman’s choice.)  Being the person that I am, I interrupted and asked, “What if it was in the case of rape or incest, or the mother’s life is endangered?” The girl answered that it did not matter because the woman should not get herself into that situation.

I was shocked to hear this because many of these girls believe that a man does not have anything to do with a pregnancy nor a woman’s rape. Do they not realize that its takes two to make a baby, and a criminal to create sexual violence? The girls believe that it is a woman’s fault if she becomes pregnant and that she should live with the responsibility regardless if she was raped or not. The experience made it easy to see that talking about sexual assault is still stigmatized, especially in high school, and that that silence perpetuates a cycle of violence and violence-enabling. That is a cycle that needs to be broken.

When I first approached the teacher about volunteering over the summer, I asked him if I could do a presentation about intimate partner violence (IPV) and ways to seek help in case of sexual assault. He said that he is very conservative in the classroom, and that those topics weren’t appropriate for the students I’m teaching now. But if we do not bring awareness to them now, in the classroom, where else can we do it and be able to reach out to a majority of the youth? It’s like talking about the birds and the bees with your children: the conversation may be awkward, but this will only benefit them in the long run.

I remember being at this high school and never really learning anything about outside resources dealing with abuse and suicide. Health classes barely touched the topic of IPV and only mentioned that it could happen, but the class did not offer any safety planning tips or preventative education. Children are growing up fast: Disney and Nickelodeon do not advertise cartoons to children anymore, but shows like Hannah Montana and iCarly that broadcast the growing rate of young children in intimate relationships. Our cultural, social, and educational standards should be updated to keep up with the increasingly early exposure to sex that young people are now experiencing. By addressing controversial topics, we are not aimlessly making these students uncomfortable: we would be changing their lives. By educating young people in classrooms and safe spaces about violence, sexual health, and their empowerment, we could ensure that they were never shamed or silenced out of their own safety and well-being.

As far as I’m concerned, great sex is a function of trust, affection, candid communication, and, above all, fun. It’s a delicate balance. A fragile ecosystem. If I were any good at math, I’d draw a diagram or something, but alas, I majored in writing. So I draw the line when I’m not having fun anymore. Simple and easy to communicate. I expect my partner to understand and respect that. Because if you’re not concerned with whether I’m enjoying sex or willing to ask me if I’m having fun while you’re fucking me then, um, you shouldn’t be fucking me. There’s the door, dude, happy trails to ya.

I have noticed a disturbing trend among women: we do not like to admit we have sex.

Even with “Sex and the City” films galore and Cosmopolitan magazine hitting newsstands every month, women struggle with straight up saying they have sex. I have no problem telling people I have sex; I don’t get shy or embarassed about it. Sex is a normal human behavior that almost everyone does at some point, so why act otherwise?

I’ve noticed the lack of admission that one has sex when I go to the doctor’s office. The first question I’m always asked at the doctor’s office is, “Are you sexually active?” I answer yes. Most women do not answer questions or ask questions about sex to their doctors honestly and openly because they are embarrassed or ashamed that they even have an “active” sex life.

The silence around sex is a product of the slut/whore dichotomy in our culture: women are viewed as virginal or sluts, with no room in between. So even though women have sex, we have to act like we don’t- because people want us to. The whole thing is incredibly stupid and problematic, and is evidence of the double standard women who have sex are subjected to. And it’s dangerous: women who are afraid to talk about sex are also likely not to ask for information about birth control or STIs, and they are also likely to resist tests or treatments for STIs. Rape is also a product of that dichotomy: women are labeled “sluts” or told that they “wanted it” if they’re sexually experienced, especially if that experience was with their rapist. There is a really fucked up belief that once a woman has sex, she is no longer worth anything and has no right to say no, and she must want all sex- even forced sex.

An April 2009 review of Jessica Valenti’s book “The Purity Myth” pinned the nail on the head:

Virgin or whore? According to current news and media, our generation can’t seem to decide. For every report of a young woman sexting nude photos on her iPhone, there seems to be another of girls pledging their abstinence at the Purity Ball across the street. Depending on who you ask, we’re either just saying no to hooking up, or living the Sex and the Citylifestyle, gossiping about sexual conquests over brunch, in between stocking up on emergency birth control. The message we’re getting is clear: for some reason, a woman’s sexual purity (or lack thereof) is not merely the choice or preference it is for men—it’s a reflection of her morals and values.

Women need to start owning their sexual activity. We owe it to our sisters that are struggling with STIs and sexual health, unplanned pregnancies, rape, and slut-shaming. We owe it to them to admit: yes- we do have sex! And yes, we enjoy it, and yes we will talk about it. The longer we keep quiet about sex, the longer our national, cultural, and political discussions about sex will be shut down, silenced, and disregarded. Our sexual experiences are important and valuable- and we deserve to be proud of our decisions to have safe, consensual sex with the partners we choose.

I had to watch it like three times before I completely understood the accent, but unfortunately the scenario itself is not so foreign. A sexy woman is enjoying herself at a party – drinking some wine, laughing, being fabulous, maybe flirting a little – and a male bystander (presumably a stranger) seizes the opportunity to interject that her skirt indicates that “she’s asking for it.” The viewer is left to make an obvious observation:

Um, asking for what, dude? Asking for another drink? A stick of gum? Directions to the Scottish Parliament?

The short PSA illustrates the absurdity of the “asking for it” rape myth while placing due gravity on its pervasiveness. Yeah, the guy’s an idiot, but he’s also engaging in a pattern of violence, and the real problem is that our culture condones and encourages his violent behavior.

The “asking for it” myth is so deeply ingrained in our rape culture that it’s become second nature to most of us. Sexual violence is treated as an inevitable consequence of certain behaviors, and, when you think about it, that’s a pretty effective way of maintaining social control over women and other disenfranchised groups. We’re frequently asked to surrender our rights to even the most basic of human freedoms in order to avoid being victimized. Don’t live in that part of the city, you’ll get raped. Never walk alone at night, you’ll get raped. Don’t talk to strangers, wear revealing clothing, leave your doors or windows unlocked, take drugs, drink in excess, take public transportation, travel alone, or sleep around – because you will get raped. The list of don’ts goes on and on, each rule wildly impractical, blatantly inconsistent with actual statistics related to sexual assault, and specifically crafted to distract us from the culpability of rapists. Why do we have entire dossiers on How to Not Get Raped and no guidelines for How to Not Rape People? We need a cultural revolution.

I can just imagine the headlines:

Police warn rapists against crime.

Campus leaders urge students to engage in consensual sex.

Why is that message so absent from discussions of sexual assault? Why focus so much time and energy on training women to avoid danger while men walk around with carte fucking blanche? In thousands of ways, our culture has conditioned us to anticipate rape as a natural consequence of violating social norms. Rape myths serve to keep women out of the public sphere, and rape culture wants you to believe that the only safe place for a woman is her kitchen.

You have the right to live your life however you like without being subjected to violence. You have the right to live without fear. And no one has the right to violate you. Ever.

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.

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.”

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.”