Consent

One word, endlessly complex, ceaselessly mosaic, affects every intimate relationship. Whether casual, committed, or undefined, we all struggle to understand its full meaning:

Consent.

What it is, how to ask for it, and under which circumstances it cannot be given, remains one of the more labyrinthine aspects of our relationships. The aspiration goes that if society understood consent, then there would be less physical violence, and all individuals could experience genuine sexual equality.

Consent includes a given, enthused, and lasting ‘yes.’ Nothing less. And if someone is uncertain that they have that, then they do not have consent. End of discussion.

If only.

Consent is the harbinger for ethical intimacy. But, too frequently, society does not agree upon how to best pass along consent’s social story and the best message to successfully articulate our desires within the emotional complexities of relationships. A consent-based view of sexual ethics has become common; to talk about intimacy, is to talk about consent.

The most pleasurable sex is as satisfying emotionally as it is physically. Which, in many ways, belies the complexity of how we perceive consent. Pleasure is beneath the physical. Emotional resonance rarely visits.

Submission to the joy of sexuality requires trust, both in the other, and in ourselves. However, we struggle to trust ourselves, to know what the ‘other’  wants, and when they do have the language to express those wants, sex fails to become more than an exchange of transactional urges. For many of us sex is typically exciting, occasionally joyful, but rarely intimate.

As we try to move past their conquering genesis, haltingly learning to value the other as equal — not just a body to extract from — within the concern that the pleasure of another also means concern for their dignity.

Each of us deserves pleasurable, mutually reverential sex — not sex that is solely consensual.

But, as we learn that sex is not wholly wanted or unwanted, that the other is not an instrument, they begin a path of seeing consent as the truest form of self-prowess. A partner’s willingness to pursue connection within the standards of personal barriers marks true bodily success.

Even the instructed, explained variations of consent — the previously, actively, continually “confirmed,” the “sincere” — are, at best, a working premise:

“Do I have undeniable, present and future, agreement, so that my actions cannot ever appear to have been against the will of another?”

This transitory standing is accepted for the simple reason that its opposites, “it seemed like they were into it. I thought they were into it,” will never be valid.  Even when it goes splendidly, sex is knotty. It involves our bodies, minds, and emotions. Sex is no more oversimplified as a singular, physical act, than eating or breathing. Sexual actions have boundless consequences, and simply hoping that by assigning consent — as a legal standard and a moral requirement — that the complexities will go away, is simple fallacy.

The experiences surrounding consent are often confusing to talk about because, theoretically, everything went magically. If we consent, we should not feel terrible afterwards, right?

The primary fear, in these situations of affirmed consent, is impoliteness — opting to avoid the awkwardness of turning someone down is ultimately worse than simply consenting to unwanted sex. Experiences like these are common — we freely consented, often with the illusive verbal “yes.” Everything followed an “acceptable path.” Regretting the existence of these feelings suggests that individual actions — “asking for consent,” “speaking one’s mind,” “being assertive in saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’” — are sufficient to eliminate the misunderstandings and hurt that can come with physical intimacy.

Clarifications, discussions, debriefings of consent will not balance power differentials, explain the unknowable complexities of intimacy or teach any of us how to genuinely care for our partners. Making the standard of consent the singular designation for good intimacy discards fundamental personhood and human dignity.

“Between consenting adults” has become the bromide social standard, a conversational yield sign indicating that what comes will remain beyond critique. This ignores the fact that not all intimacy is the same. And when we object to an action, practice, or request, there is no specific language to do so. Since we have made it effectively impossible for anything apart from non-consent to be wrong, we end up framing issues in that prevailing standard — the consent ‘was not’ or ‘was given’.

This is the problem with consent: It leaves so much out.

Non-consensual intimacy is always wrong, full stop. But that does not mean consensual acts are always right. Often, our experiences, the pressure to say ‘yes’ feels more like avoiding the awkwardness of not saying ‘no’.

So, what is the solution? What is the key practice? The infallible list of instructions? The answer, in all its simplicity, and multiplicity, is there is none. Whether it is a singular, flitting encounter, or the 11,000 day in a thirty-year marriage, consent changes, in advances, declines, stagnates, blooms, and recedes. 

Thomas Aquinas, the 13th-century philosopher and theologian, defined love as “willing the good of the other.” He borrowed that definition from Aristotle, who talked about love as an intention to bear goodwill toward another for the sake of that person and not oneself. Those statements are the beginning. The first step. The infancy of affection. But, there is no ending. No final step. No elderliness for good will. Consent never ends. Ever. Within any scenario nor relationship. We cannot call ourselves peaceful unless we know true violence. If we’re not capable of violence, we're not peaceful. We’re harmless. If any of us are fortunate to fall into the latter, that is a real gift. But for most, we are the prior. And means, for so long as we have breath, we must use it to ask.

If you are ready to start exploring and healing from your own experiences, we would love to help! The therapists at Aligning Intimacy are passionate about facilitating a compassionate and judgment-free environment to answer questions, create a secure space, and partner with you as you create an alignment within yourself and your relationships. We are just an email or phone call away! Click the “Contact Us” button below to get started!