What is Consent, Anyway?

Consent is sexy right now (ha-ha). It's a "hot button" word on the news. People watch short clips and debate whether they believe a complete stranger agreed to something awful or not. We even hear that maybe they're sometimes teaching about it in schools. But "Consent" also an umbrella term for getting the absolute bare minimum of agreement from someone to avoid repercussions. Such a large umbrella, in fact, that we've lost the script on what it means. So, let's start from the beginning.

Outside of the sexual context, consent denotes permission. Permission exists only in response to someone asking for a thing they want; whether it be to eat the last brownie in the house or to do a police search. Sure, people give consent, but we all know that no one in their right mind is truly okay with missing out on the last brownie.

As it stands, and without further investigation, the essential nature of consent is as follows: "Did he/she/they consent?" Which basically means, did you hear a yes? Then you're good to go! Were they under the influence? Well they said yes so whatever!

This sentiment, that consensual sex means someone didn't say no, is hugely problematic. As it stands, consent a misnomer that doesn't actually address the potential harm that can happen between people who engage in sex together. And it's far too broad for something as nuanced and complex as consent. 

I've said yes to sex I didn't want to have while my body was obviously screaming "No." I said "No," but not the right "No" because my ex insisted and I acquiesced. 

So, how can we colour in the lines when it comes to consent? Thankfully, people with far more experience than myself have thought this through. One framework that I often return to, and use in my own life, was developed by Betty Martin; called the Wheel of Consent.

The wheel of consent accounts for four important roles: the giver (The one articulating their desire), the receiver (The one receiving the desire), doing (The one touching), and done-to (The one being touched). It also notes different ways to experience pleasure: Primary route (our own pleasure) and the secondary route (The pleasure we experience through another's pleasure). Each role comes with its own scripts (See diagram above).

We can actually practice consent by sitting with your partner and doing this. We develop vocabulary, learn to use our voice, how to give; how to receive. How and when to say "No" and receive "No." We develop our communication muscles around sex that likely never actually developed.

So, how do we practice? Take turns with your partner.

1. 5 minutes Serving

2. 5 minutes Taking

3. 5 minutes Allowing

4. 5 minutes Accepting

Rinse (If you want to ;) and repeat!

Betty describes the practice as folks interacting with full hearts, where they are consciously choosing their roles and enjoying the texture and qualities of each.

As far as I'm concerned, consent can't exist until you, and whoever you are engaging in erotic play with, agree to what it means and how to enact it.  I'm not interested in someone waiting for a "Yes," however hesitant it may be. I'm interested in cultivating consent through together with my partner. This developing can't be done only with physical touch. I want to use all of my resources to communicate my experience and understand theirs. I want to be invested in my partner's pleasure, and I want them to be invested in mine.

So what is consent? It's nothing if the societal status quo definition is "At least a little yes" or "Not a no." It's on us to define, determine, and dedicate ourselves to the practice of consent.  I'm not interested in basing my sex life on the legal definition of consent. I'm interested in cultivating something beautiful, like engaging in Betty's Wheel of Consent with the person that I love. And through this practice, we all learn.