#MeToo:
How Sex Education Is Failing All of Us
“You…don’t want to kiss me?” The answer to that question should have been obvious. After a decent dinner out, I had told my date that I was tired and not in the mood to do anything. After at least five attempts to kiss me, touch me or otherwise initiate sexual contact — while I tried to lean back, turn away or push him farther from me — he finally accepted my lack of interest. By that point, he had already made me extremely uncomfortable, but that didn’t seem to register with him. What struck me most about this encounter was the lack of aggression in his demeanor. I never got the impression that he was intentionally threatening me — just oblivious to my discomfort with his continued attempts at escalation. Experiences like mine are commonplace for women, but they don’t have to be — and Women’s History Month is the perfect time to explore the causes of and solutions to this kind of sexual misconduct.
While many parts of the #MeToo movement resonate with me, coverage of Aziz Ansari’s aggressive behavior on a date struck me as especially familiar. Based on his date’s description of the situation, it sounds like he pushed her beyond what she was comfortable with, seemingly unaware that he was violating her consent. Of course, sexual assault and harassment are unacceptable, regardless of intent. However, situations like Ansari’s and my own experiences point to the possibility that some individuals who commit what one might recognize as assault may not fully realize the impact of their actions because they do not grasp the concept of affirmative, enthusiastic consent.
When I came to college, I attended a mandatory consent training with my peers and was genuinely surprised to learn that consent is much more complicated than a simple yes or no. We covered how factors such as inebriation and coercion can make a sexual act not consensual, and how the lack of a “no” does not constitute consent if both partners are not enthusiastically and actively participating in any escalations. After the program, I discussed the content with my classmates, most of whom were as surprised as I was about the characterization of consent. Several girls shared experiences in which they had been coerced into sexual acts that they were uncomfortable with, noting that they had always felt violated but thought that pressure and coercion were normal practices that they just had to accept.
Modern conversations about the inadequacies of sex education tend to focus on issues of heteronormativity and the ineffectiveness of abstinence-only programs — both valid concerns that need to be addressed. However, I believe that the failures of sex education go deeper than that. My sex education was abstinence-only, but even more progressive programs are often missing discussions of consent. In a Planned Parenthood study of American adults, fewer than one in three respondents said they received any form of consent education in middle school or high school.
Throughout the sex education my school district offered, I noticed a pattern in which sex was often depicted as male-dominated — men were actors, and women were acted upon. Speakers constantly pushed the idea that all men want sex without acknowledging that women can also have sexual desires, and discussions of the negative repercussions of sex always centered around women. The inclusion of degrading metaphors comparing women who have sex to chewed gum or tape that is no longer sticky further characterized women as objects that exist to serve a purpose. These harmful narratives tie sex to masculinity and strip women of their agency in sexual encounters, creating a warped perception that makes understanding consent more difficult instead of empowering students to act confidently and appropriately in sexual situations.
Before the training I received in college, I certainly did not understand the nuances of consent, and it seems that many other adults would share my confusion. The previously mentioned Planned Parenthood survey found vast disagreements about what respondents did and did not consider to be consent, noting that women generally had a better understanding of consent than men. The lack of consensus is unsurprising, given that the majority of students either do not receive sex education or are taught a curriculum that fails to cover definitions of consent and healthy relationships.
With this in mind, it is easy to see why so many young adults struggle with consent. Many universities have begun to provide education about affirmative, enthusiastic consent, but college could be too late to learn these lessons. Today, most people recognize that abstinence-only education is not enough, but neither is a lesson about condoms and birth control.
If we want to fight the culture of sexual assault, introducing comprehensive sex education that includes discussions of consent is a key step in ensuring that teens grow up understanding their rights and responsibilities in sexual situations. Women deserve better than the gender-based power dynamics that have historically shaped relationships, and students deserve better than the sex education they receive today. This Women’s History Month and looking forward, school districts and state legislatures should open a dialogue about the direction of sex education and work to create more comprehensive and realistic programs.
