The #MeToo movement needs more patience

> Communication goes both ways

Laura Alden
Contributor

 

Content warning on this
article for mentions of sexual
harassment and assault.

he #MeToo movement is important;
as women, we're fed up with sexual
harassment. We're fed up with men
trying to convince us to have sex after
we say no. As we have seen recently
in “Grace’s” story regarding her date
with Aziz Ansari, well-known actor
and feminist, in which she felt violated
and left in tears, we're also fed up
with the skewed power dynamic and
walking away from dates unsure if we
have just been taken advantage of.

I have been in Grace’s shoes; I
have experienced some men’s sexual
tunnel vision and walked away from
experiences feeling like I had ridden a
roller coaster I wasn’t sure I bought a
ticket for. However, during the morning
after, I looked not straight towards the
men [| had been with. Instead, I turned
to myself to make sure I had made all
the right moves to protect myself, and
to make sure I had communicated ina
way that would get all my needs met.
Had I said no strongly enough, or at
all? Had I used proper language to
express my needs clearly? I’d say that
99 per cent of the time the answer
was a no. I had become a deer in the
headlights, and, without the men I was
with knowing how to visually recognize
a woman freezing up or what that felt
like during physical relations, the sex
had continued as normal, without any
check-ins. Of course, there have also
been times when I raised my concerns
and needs to previous partners and
they fell upon deaf or defensive ears.

   
 

I walked away then, as I knew my
needs would never be met by them.
We have grown up in a world
where people are taught to think that
men are sexy when they are strong
and take charge, and that it’s normal
for women to say no just to play hard
to get. This world is slowly changing,
but the key word here is “slowly.” Aziz
Ansari is an example of putting the
cart before the horse, thinking that
the idea that wearing a pin that states
the words “Time’s Up” will make this
change so quickly. His wearing of the
pin was done with the best intentions,
I believe, but he is a prime example of
what happens when best intentions exist
without the underlying foundations
of proper communication. He is not a
monster, and should not be compared
to cruel men like Harvey Weinstein.
Ansari is aman who was brought
up in a world with unclear sexual
rules, with social norms dictated by
porn, movies, and television, along
with a blanket of shame that covers

ss

Photo by Lucy Nicholson for Reuters

 

=VWe P aman. i

questions like “Can I kiss you?” or

“Do you want to have sex with me?”
These are all made worse with a lack of
learned human tools like vulnerability
and truthful, open communication.

Playing it cool is the game in
dating, and that works against every
side. It keeps men from softly asking
if they can touch us instead of playing
it strong and fearless, and it keeps
women from saying “What you are doing
makes me afraid,” in real time, instead
of the day after in a text message.

We are pushing for consent, and
for these vulnerable questions to be
asked. At the same time, we are pushing
against the social norms that have
been around for years. This is not an
excuse, this is reality. Habits are hard
to break, and instilling fear through
public shaming is not the way to go;
patience, understanding, and, above all,
nonviolent communication to get our
goals met, is. We don’t have to have sex
any time we aren't feeling it, but should

open communication to our partners
or one-night stands to figure out what
went wrong after the fact instead of
throwing blame and shutting everything
down. We must face their flaws, and
our own, to grow and understand what
we want and how to get it. These words
are not meant to discredit women who
have experienced sexual assault or
rape. These are serious, hurtful actions.
However, in the seemingly grey area
experiences, like with Grace and Aziz,
better communication is key—as long
as both sexes are willing to listen.

We need to start giving more men

the benefit of the doubt while firmly
leaving those who don’t deserve it.

It is noted in Grace’s account that
she did protest to Aziz’s actions, but the
passive, non-confrontational ways in
which she did (pulling away, not moving)
fits into the shy, hard-to-get persona that
is stereotyped to women and continues
to muddle the line between consent and
sexual expression. We cannot expect
men to read our minds, mumblings, or
mixed signals, but we can expect men
to listen to us when we raise our hands
and firmly say “No, I do not want sex
right now. Stop. Now.” What would it
have been like if Grace had said “No,
no sex. ] am very uncomfortable right
now because of your actions. Either we
keep our clothes on, or I am leaving”
and stuck to it? These words can be
hard to say in real time, but it’s up
to women to learn how to say them
clearly, strongly, and without violent
aggression, or laughing to lighten the
tension. We must rise to the challenge
of leaving a situation, but only after
we know our properly-communicated
needs will not be heard. It’s up to us to
create a strong, clear, non-aggressive
“No.” Only when this is properly
established will men listen and accept it.

No excuses for sexual misconduct

> Willful ignorance in ‘grey area’ situations is at best irresponsible, at worst a crime

Rebecca Peterson
Assistant Editor

 

Content warning on this
article for mentions of sexual
harassment and assault.

f I had the power to do so, I would

prevent any person who claims they
cart tell if someone is “into it” or not
without having “no” shouted in their face
directly from having sex ever again.

Harsh? Perhaps, but I’m tired and

angry, and the assumption that the
absence of a hard “no” equals consent is
outdated and harmful, and I’m genuinely
sick to my stomach of such arguments.
It leads the conversation surrounding
consent and dating protocol in the
absolute wrong direction and relies
on gender essentialist ideas, painting
women as shrinking violets whose fear
isn’t, you know, a societal problem, but
rather a personal failing, and it paints
men as hapless victims of a nebulous

culture that has nothing to do with them.

It also assumes that a man is always the
instigator and aggressor, and women
just need to learn how to live with

that “inevitability,” and I’m just done

with it. I’m done with excuses for the
behaviour of people with no respect for
the bodies of their partners, who aren't
willing to take five minutes to reflect
on how they can do better, and who
defend past actions and mistakes with
a trite, “I didn’t know any better, how
could I have known better, be patient,
give me time, it’s so hard to learn!”

Is it controversial to make the broad
declaration that sex is a physical act? It
shouldn't be. If we're going to take that
as hard fact, then, would it not also make
sense to accept that much of consent is
rooted in physical language, rather than
verbal? Sex is, essentially, two or more
human beings using the physical forms
granted to them to pleasure themselves
and others through touch. If you're paying
enough attention to know that putting
your mouth on someone else’s mouth feels
good, you should be able to notice if that
mouth is turning away from you. If your
partner’s arms are folded, if they’re edging
away, if they aren't looking you in the
eyes, if they’re frozen in place, then I dare
you to tell me that you didn’t know that
they didn’t want you to continue. That
hard “no” you're waiting for is screaming
from every limb—you’e just ignoring
it, because you dont want to see it and

you're more focused on what you want,
rather than what your partner is willing
to give. There is no excuse for that.

There are many, many reasons why a
partner of any gender might not be able
to say “no” directly. They might be scared
of upsetting you; not necessarily because
they think youre going to hurt them,
but they could be afraid of hurting your
feelings by rejecting you. They might have
changed their mind and feel embarrassed
about backing out. They could be drunk.
They could even be dissociating; that
feeling of tucking yourself into the back
of your mind and “letting” your partner
do what they need to do, the feeling that
many people have described in these “grey
area” situations actually has a name, and
it’s not consent. Assuming your only job
as a partner in terms of consent is to keep
an ear out for dramatic dissent shows
that you don’t care about whether or not
your partner is enjoying the experience.
If you aren't able or willing to pay
attention to the person you're touching,
you shouldn't be touching them.

I can say with absolute confidence
that it isn’t difficult to pay attention,
because I have had these conversations.

I have asked if my partner was still
with me, and when they said they

weren't sure, I stopped. I have asked

if my partner was sober enough to
consent, and when they said they might
not be, I stopped. I have watched for
nonverbal cues from my partners,

and when I wasn’t sure, I stopped.

I have also had partners who
did not ask these questions, and did
not stop, and I have carried guilt
and shame that was never mine to
wear for far too long because of it.

I refuse to believe that this is too
hard a concept for some people to grasp,
and that we need to give people time and
understanding and gentle nurturing to
get them there. I’m willing to forgive, but
I’m holding out forgiveness for people
who do not make excuses. I’m holding
out forgiveness for people who do not
think that paying attention and taking a
moment to think is more difficult than
willfully ignoring discomfort and fear.

I’m holding out forgiveness
for people who I know will ask the
right questions, the questions I
wish to God I had been asked:

“Are you still with me?”

“Are you sober enough to consent?”

“Tell me if you want me to continue,”
not “Tell me if you want me to stop.”