The Dark Side of Asking for Consent

This weekend, I was outside at a retreat talking to a man who was using his hands to demonstrate a point. Suddenly, he asked if he could touch me, while his hands were already hovering over my thigh. I remember scanning the situation I was in— the people around me, the vibe— feeling caught off guard, confused, and curious about wherever this was going— all in a split second before I blurted out, 'Sure!'

He continued talking, this time gesticulating by dragging his fingers up and down my thigh. Immediately my stomach dropped as I realized the unnecessary nature of the touch, the discomfort in my gut and my embarrassment by the publicness of it all.

Later, when I could process, my first thoughts were: "I could've said no. It would've said so much about my character and how strong my boundaries are... Why didn't I just say no?! I would be a stronger woman for it. Is this really where I am with my expression?

Then, before I went into a full spiral of self-blame and self-shame I asked myself, "Okay, and now, Where am I not being fair to me?"

The truth I gave myself was: The question was quick and without context. I didn't know what kind of touch this man intended or for what purpose. I didn't want to create friction in a setting where love, connection and networking were the goals.

Maybe in hindsight, I should've said no. But in perspective, is it even fair that he asked?

Recently, I've now dealt with two similar situations and they've brought up some things for me to examine...

First, of course, there's the personal accountability— Where in me was that kneejerk reaction to say yes? And what does it say about my relationship with my body?

But also— Where in the greater collective is consent considered a green light to act on self-serving impulses?

Asking for consent can be a way to progress intimacy when it's not already progressing for a reason.

Then if there are mixed or uncomfortable feelings after, the onus is on the person who said 'yes', not on the person who was forward.

A verbal yes is a signed contract in a society where people— especially women— are conditioned to say yes when we mean no. And when that happens, our 'yes' becomes the weapon we're left to beat ourselves with.

We aren't always saying yes to being touched. Sometimes we're saying yes to a frictionless interaction, to a non-disruptive social experience, to the benefit of the doubt, to being chill, being able to move on with our day.

I know that people aren't mind readers and it's not anyone's job to determine what a person is really saying 'yes' to.

That's why I challenge consent-seekers to ask themselves why they want the touch they're asking for.

Because if that reason only goes as deep as 'It would feel good for me', then maybe the touch can wait until a more familiar relationship is established.

Maybe it would be more appropriate to mirror the other person's boundaries instead of pulling on them by asking for consent.

There was a long period in my life where an uncomfortable thigh touch would be just another Tuesday. But screw it. I'm not letting this shit just sit in my body anymore.