This article contains references to sexual assault.
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Consent means freely and voluntarily saying "yes" to something. We talk about it a lot in relation to sexual activity. Is that where your mind went? Probably with good reason. Sexual activity without ongoing consent is assault. But, you likely aren’t thinking about consent as a positive part of sex. When consent is mentioned, people often think of the legal implications of violating it.
Consent is a good thing, something that keeps us safe and satisfied. And yet, when we hear the word, we cringe and think about the consequences of its absence. We're so uncomfortable with talking about respecting consent that we've normalised violating it. It's been violated on such a large scale that one in five Australian women and one in 16 men have experienced sexual violence.
I have a really clear memory of coming home to Sydney from boarding school in year nine, where my friends were getting ready for a party. "Have you shaved?" they asked me. When I looked confused, I was told to be prepared for boys to grope me. They told me, “that’s just what boys do now".
Back then, while disgusted by what I was told, I’m sure I didn’t think of it as assault. I wasn’t educated enough to recognise it. I was more confused about why we’d welcome a teenage boy’s fingers poking about blindly. It can’t have been enjoyable for the boys either, I thought.
Empathy gap between men and women
A lot of our understanding of consent is innate. As a toddler, I’m sure you remember getting your hand grabbed by a parent, and they’d hold on tighter if you tried to pull away. You’ve probably hugged someone and felt when it was time to let go. Towards the end of COVID-19, we all started asking for permission before shaking each other’s hands. But this instinctive understanding seems to have been forgotten in a sexual context.
We're so uncomfortable with talking about respecting consent that we've normalised violating it.
There are forces at play that have created an empathy gap between men and women, where some people feel entitled to sexual gratification at the expense of another person's comfort, and safety. We can’t rely on non-verbal consent in sexual contexts. We can’t rely on a simple “yes” or “no” either. And more so, we shouldn’t assume it’s a “yes” until someone says “no”, like a person is automatically entitled to another’s body until they are told otherwise.
It’s complex, isn’t it. I might’ve lost your attention. Could it be that we’re focusing on the wrong thing?
Consent is the gateway to pleasure. Communicating with your sexual partner about their desires and what works for them, and importantly, giving yourself permission to ask yourself the same, is how the magic happens.
Reframing how we look at consent
If we spent less time conceptualising consent in its legal context, and more time in its ethical context, maybe we could shift our thinking away from consent as a rigid checklist completed for fear of legal consequence. Consent could instead be framed as an ongoing reflection, or negotiation, of how we want to interact with others.
Some people like to protest that asking for consent ruins the mood. I urge you to ask yourself, who does it ruin the mood for? Is it the person who doesn’t care about your sexual satisfaction or your boundaries? I’m not saying that consent has to be given verbally every minute when engaging in sexual activity with someone regularly. This is silly, there are people who are non-verbal and still engage in safe and enjoyable sex. But only good can come from increasing communication about sex.
I’m a victim of sexual violence. As I said, one in five women are. I’m also a victim of slut shaming and cyberbullying, unrealistic and unsafe standards set by pornography, rape myths, misogyny and internalised misogyny and so on. All of the things that enabled my rapist and had people say to me that they'd "probably still go to his party if they got invited."
There was certainly something in the water at the private schools I grew up surrounded by. Yet my closest friends and I managed to avoid drinking it. How? I think it was an understanding of ethical consent. If both parties can understand the value, and the joy, of reciprocity and empathy when it comes to sex, you won’t cringe at asking for consent. You won’t want to proceed without it.
Sarah is the Director and Co-Founder of, a national resource demystifying the police and legal processes for victims of sexual violence while working to improve them.
If you or someone you know is impacted by sexual assault, call 1800RESPECT on 1800 737 732 or visit. In an emergency, call 000.
