Cornell Seven case has exposed how disturbingly misunderstood consent still is — no means no. Why does that still need explaining?

The Cornell Seven case has colored my last few weeks with shock, disappointment, and above all, anger, taking over my social feed and my friends’ groups. Looking over the transcripts and news reports about how Jane Doe felt coerced, about how she claimed to have pushed them away and said no, I got angry too. Yes, these are just allegations and unproven thus far, what continues to bother me is how conversations around consent are getting twisted.

The people who seemed to excuse or minimize the situation got to me. Those who said, ‘Oh, but when she said no, they stopped.’ I got angry at the people who were saying things like, ‘Well, she went there in the middle of the night, drunk. She asked for it.’ Somewhere along the way, however, I began to wonder why they were saying these things. Isn’t the concept of consent clear? 

Engaging with the discourse, I realized, no. The concept of consent isn’t clear. There doesn’t seem to be an agreement about the complete language of consent. That sent me down a rabbit hole about how we teach consent and accountability. However, consent applies to all aspects of our lives. Sp, could the failures of sexual consent stem from how we teach consent as a whole? 

Dismissal begins well before sex

First, let’s look at the two biggest misunderstandings around consent when it comes to sexual activity. The first is within the law. In half of the states in the U.S., a person cannot give consent if they are intoxicated. For the other half, including New York, if you choose to imbibe, you are still considered to have the capability to give consent. Secondly, the conversation around consent in sexual activity has always been very simplistic: ‘No means No.’ 

However, as a friend argued, an absence of a no isn’t a yes either. So, why do we only look for an explicit negative statement? What about the other ways we say no, like through our body language or through other, even unexpressed words? Perhaps because we are too tired, or our minds are too foggy? What about situations in which people don’t even look for consent because it is implied through a relationship or legal contract, like marriage? 

A Western Washington University columnist argued that simply submitting isn’t consent. She wrote, “We should hold all young people responsible in the decision-making process and teach them to look for more than consent—they should look for enthusiasm, an emotion hard to mistake for anything else in any circumstance.”

Now let’s temporarily put aside the sexual aspect of it. Apply these considerations to everyday interactions with your neighbors, coworkers, friends, and relatives. Chances are, you have definitely come across this at least once. 

I want to make one thing very clear: this isn’t about gender. At the end of the day, a person who violates consent is always a person with more power than the other. This could be relational power with a boss, an elder, or a parent, or social power through connections or money.

These people can often dismiss a boundary set by someone with less power. There are extreme examples, of course, in politics, business, and medicine, like a government decision to keep a woman’s body alive for her baby. However, I would argue that all of these problems start from childhood. Worse, these consent violations are often dismissed out of ‘care.’

Here is an example we have all felt at least once. Feeling forced to hug or kiss a relative even when we don’t want to. People minimize children’s reactions and don’t see an issue because the relative is just showing love. However, from the child’s point of view, they were forced or felt pressured to do it because of good manners. 

Speaking to Today.com, parenting expert Dr Gilboa noted, “Physical touch should never be coercive. It is super confusing to send kids the mixed messages of body privacy and body safety and then force them to do something intimate with their bodies.” 

This first failure, in my opinion, teaches everyone that consent is conditional and that their voices have limited power. We tell people and children, with limited explanation, that they have to do something because of societal or cultural requirements, or because it is good for them. Eat a certain way, behave a certain way, dress a certain way, work a specific job. In doing so, we add a layer of constant interpersonal or societal pressure

It becomes harder to say no. Especially for people like me, who are people-pleasers or who avoid confrontation. People with power, intentionally or not, begin to infringe on your choices, even when asked to stop, because they can justify their comments or actions as ones of care.

Over time, it can justify bigger problems, like harsh discipline. Until eventually, I think, it becomes justification for the person in power when they control the other person or hurt them. That they made a mistake, or that it’s in their nature and they never meant to hurt anyone. 

By muddling these initial understandings of safety and boundaries, I think we set ourselves up for failure. Consent has never, and will never be, a simplistic ‘no means no,’ and I think we need to restart and standardize the conversation and understanding around consent, for everyone’s sake.

PHE Canada illustrated an excellent point – they noted that more than learning how to say no, we need to learn how to hear it, and that starts with thanking people for saying no. They argued, “When we are thanked and appreciated for expressing our boundaries, it helps undo a lifetime of fearing retaliation or rejection for saying no. It creates safety, encourages us to be authentic, and builds confidence in exploring what we truly want.”