The not so pretty truth

This post contains intimate and personal details about consent and nonconsensual moments that actually happened. By no means am I an expert. I just want to share my ugly truths incase someone else can learn from them… Or see hope.

I did not grow up in an environment where consent was an option. I was taught at a very young age that being a girl meant you don’t have choice in the matter of physical intimacy.

I was taught it was rude to deny adults or other children a kiss, if they offered. All the wet kisses on the lips and on the face should be graciously returned.

I want to make an excuse: “It was a different time… Kisses were innocent… Family and friends had pure intent… Drunk uncles, touchy aunts, and older cousins just wanted to show affection.” But #MeToo has taught us something different.

I was taught to obey my elders. I was taught not to be a tattletale. I was taught children should be quiet and even when they’re really hurt… they come last.

So when kisses turned into games, and games turned into something more, I understood that this was my lot. I understood that this is what girls do.

At the age of 14, I had a nonconsensual relationship with a man that was 38. I actively said NO. When I understood that it was happening either way… I passively took it.

Did I cry about it? No. Did I tell my mom? Nope. I took it like a good girl. I closed my eyes and went to my happy place.*

I gave into the idea that I was a slut and I wanted it… That because I was a girl, men naturally wanted certain things from me. Because I was a female I was to blame.

I was a 14 year old temptress with the power to create so much lust in a man they couldn’t control themselves around me.

As an adult I still find myself questioning these things. I realize I passively give in because it is so hard to fight.

I had a long day at work, I just want to sleep; but they want it, so here you go. I really want to watch this TV show, but they won’t stop touching me; I’ll put it on pause give them five minutes of attention and then I can get back to my program. They drove 40 minutes to come see me, it would be rude to leave them hanging.

So when I went on a date with a man and we begin to kiss… and I wasn’t in the mood… and his hands started to explore anyway… and I pulled away slightly… and he noticed and stopped… I had no idea what to do.

That is not how this game is played. Am I ugly? Do I not turn them on?

When he told me he had a fantastic time and would love to see me again… Gave me a small kiss… leaving me at my door… I felt so guilty.

He wants to see me again, but we didn’t have sex?

That is the moment I begin to understand the difference of passively allowing and activly wanting.

The dictionary defines consent:

noun: permission for something to happen or agreement to do something.

verb: give permission for something to happen.

A relationship though, there is so much more to it. It’s not just giving permission to be used, its asking to be involved.

When I began understanding active consent and passive consent, my life changed. Instead of being something I had to do it became something I could do. By learning to say “no thank you,” I experienced a new world of “yes please.”

I learned passively allowing it’s not giving consent. It is not a mutual agreement. It is one-sided masturbatory experience. I am just being used instead of his right hand.

How do we teach ourself otherwise? How do we go from being passive to active?

That is why I’m writing today.

I am in a new relationship. I’m trying to learn that line. I don’t want to hurt this person by saying no, I want it to be a mutual enjoyment.

So when we started to kiss, and I slightly pulled away, and he continued to move, I had to make a choice.

I actively pulled away. I embarrassedly said I wasn’t ready. It came out awkwardly, but I did it.

Something amazing happened. He was modified and said, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

I cringed and started to cry… This poor guy had no clue. But he respected me. We had an open conversation about sex and relationship.

So on our next date when we started to kiss… I realized I didn’t want to pull away.

Being respected is an amazing sensation. Learning that I’m worth it, is shocking. Having a voice is empowering.

I look back at all the times I passively consented to be used, and I wonder how those guys would feel… Would they be mortified? Would they have ignored my voice?

Unfortunately I never gave them the option to decide.

If you are afraid use your voice… even if it’s just a squeak. Don’t allow yourself to be taken. It is your body. It is your choice.

If they force you, they force you, but never assume they want to. Give men more credit. A few bad apples doesn’t spoil the whole field.

How many men have become bad apples in our eyes because of choices we assumed they would make?

*I have cried about it a lot as an adult. We should cry about these things. I did tell my mom about it. We cried together.