Spurred by the Brock Turner case and Juleyka’s note about “reading the Stanford victim’s statement as a mother of boys,” readers share their own experiences discussing the difficult topics of consent and sexual assault. To join the discussion, drop us a note at hello@theatlantic.com.
Yesterday we heard from a mother of two daughters who worries about the role that alcohol often plays in sexual assaults on campus. A father writes:
I did indeed just drop my daughter off at college last week and had this conversation with her. She didn’t have much exposure to guys or alcohol in high school, and I wanted to give her my opinions on both.
When I was in high school, I said, people focused on the moral dimensions of drinking, as if alcohol was a sinful thing unto itself. It felt great to drink, especially because I was thumbing my nose at the Bible thumpers.
I told my daughter that the issue with drinking isn’t the act; it’s what come next. People treat it as a license for all kinds of bad decisions. The moral rebellion I felt then is now a rebellion of human decency and norms.
On assault, I told her that sex is something she should do 1000% on her terms and no one else’s. Also, sometimes, women are assaulted on campus and then try to hide it because they are afraid of telling their parents that they were drinking or in bed with a boy. I said, no matter what, we’ll support you. Regardless of the circumstances, if she feels assaulted, that’s all that matters to us.
Tough conversation to have, but critical in this day.
His remarks about drinking being a rebellious act made me think of a reader email sent a few months ago by Jack. He essentially argues that there’s a risk in being too alarmist about college drinking and sex—that some young men will blindly rebel against overheated rhetoric and throw sensibility out with the bathwater:
As a kid, I was taught a lot about alcohol, drugs, and sex—insistently and repeatedly—and didn’t listen to much of it. I think it’s worth looking at why.
Have you ever heard of AlcoholEdu? [Sample video above.] It is a common “alcohol education” program for incoming freshmen, and it is the most alarmist, hilariously exaggerated shit of all time. It said having one (1) shot of liquor was “binge drinking” and “extremely dangerous.” I’d had seven beers my first night at college, and woke up feeling great. I used AlcoholEdu’s BAC calculator to see how drunk I’d been. It listed one symptom I should have from drinking that much: death.
Similarly, I got the full experience of the “just say no” era of drug education. I was convinced that weed would kill you, or at least give you profound, permanent brain damage. I had no idea that marijuana was less dangerous than, say, cocaine, until some friends told me. (And people wonder why kids listen to their friends for advice on sex stuff. Sometimes, the friends legitimately give more accurate information! How sad is that?)
Importantly, I’m sure they never said weed would kill you, since it won’t. But they gave us a blizzard of symptoms for a long list of drugs, and death came up multiple times, and it was all scary, and I didn’t know to make negative inferences from omissions. So I came away with that impression.
By college, I saw all of these lessons as adult handwringing about “kids these days.” Drinking and drugs was rebellion against oppressive, restrictive authority that was often wrong anyway. And I probably did more bad stuff than I would have, given non-alarmist information.
And I had similar experiences with sex ed, although more about STDs and hookups than rape. I eventually saw concern for STDs and waiting until you’re in a relationship to have sex in the same way as the drugs and alcohol “education”—because they were taught by the same people, in the same alarmist, overly conservative way, with the same moralizing.
I suspect hookup culture is partially a response to sex ed that says sex without a serious relationship is unusual and morally wrong, that I and presumably others heard.
And I received anti-rape education at various times. I knew people who believed all the “rape myths,” who were walking embodiments of “rape culture.” They saw the anti-rape education the same way they saw the alcohol/drugs education, as get-off-my-lawnism.
I wonder how I would have reacted if told that “Consent is a voluntary, sober, imaginative, enthusiastic, creative, wanted, informed, mutual, honest, and verbal agreement” (that’s real).
There are many unspoken rules for boys about how to pursue girls:
Don’t objectify or be creepy.
Be nice but not a “nice guy.”
Don’t be too upfront, but don’t hide the ball too long, etc.
The way people discuss objectifying in particular bothers me, as people often act like it’s wrong to want to have sex with someone due to physical looks. As if they don’t want that all the time.
We talk about teaching “everyone” consent, but really we view girls as the arbiters of sexual morality, who pronounce the true meaning of an encounter, and the boys as the suspect, just waiting to mess up and meekly walk home—not just rejected, but shamed or possibly punished. This all takes place in a general environment of teenage bewilderment about anything sex related.
And like with drugs, the overall message I got was one not always explicitly told: As a guy, just wanting sex from girls makes you suspect. Predatory. Gross. The problem.
It’s not surprising, then, that red-pillers exist. [Background here] It’s an alternative narrative, that society is wrong. You’re not the problem—the girls are! You’re not a bad guy. Society is already wrong about many other things—stands to reason, this too. If there’s no way to want sex without being immoral, then you either swear off sex, or accept your immorality.
I think a solution is education that treats boys with more sympathy, that sees boys not just as potential violators, but as kids trying to figure it out, who themselves can be treated badly while in the role of pursuing and trying to win over girls. We should have conversations that don’t always segue to rape when sex comes up.
The reason I didn’t listen to my alcohol/drug/sex education is because it seemed unrealistic and unfair. If consent education seems unrealistic and unfair, it won’t matter how many times we drill it into boys; they won’t listen. But if it treats boys sympathetically, and isn’t overly alarmist, I think they will.
If you’d like to respond, drop us a note. Here’s one more reader, Steve, who recalls the dark subconscious thoughts of his adolescence with brutal honesty:
Teaching young boys to play nice is good and useful. Modeling behavior toward women is also good and useful. But we need to do much more than that; we need to acknowledge that as these young boys grow into adolescence and early adulthood, they are going to bombarded by a combination of compelling physical urges and physical power while simultaneously achieving broad license to govern their own behavior, and that they must learn to channel and sublimate those things if they are not to harm others and themselves.
Nothing in my childhood prepared me for what happened as I entered puberty, and then physically matured into manhood. My unconscious night dreams went from being about toys and play, with an occasional nightmare about fire or powerlessness, to being violent and aggressive (with me in the central, powerful role) that still, 50 years later, astonishes me.
By the time I was 16, sex joined the nightly parade of dreams, and combined with daytime fantasy that involved more forms of penetration and domination than I could ever have imagined a few short years before. My body and mind seemed to be telling me that I needed sex, and I had everything else I needed to get it.
All of this is true, notwithstanding that I grew up in a home where any kind of disrespect toward girls or women was firmly frowned upon, and without any serious trauma at all in my life. I certainly heard about domestic violence in our neighborhood, but you didn’t see overt sexuality on TV or in print in those days, and there was certainly nothing modeled among the adults around me that would have led to these images; they came to me almost completely out of the blue.
And, when I became old enough to have access to alcohol, I quickly learned the toxic combination of urgency and permissiveness that alcohol fuels.
We need to help young men understand their responsibility to not “be themselves” when the potent combination of sex, power, and diminished social inhibitions come together, and we should start by at least admitting that these things are latent in many, if not most, young males. I could certainly have used some frank assistance with it in my youth.
Nothing about getting older has been more a relief to me than the eventual ascendance of control over the chaos that puberty and its aftermath introduced into my life.
Testosterone, of course, is the crux of what Steve is talking about. One of the best episodes of This American Life was devoted to the male hormone, and the segment featuring Griffin Hansbury was the most fascinating. Hansbury is a trans dude who, before transitioning with hormone therapy, “strongly identified as a woman at the time [attending Bryn Mawr College], as a feminist, and as a dyke.” Here’s a key part of the transcript:
Alex Blumberg: You have the testosterone of two linebackers.
Griffin Hansbury: Exactly. Exactly. That’s a lot. That’s a lot of T. And what’s amazing about it is how instantaneous it is, that it happens within a few days really. The world just changes.
Alex Blumberg: What were some of the changes that you didn't expect?
Griffin Hansbury: The most overwhelming feeling is the incredible increase in libido and change in the way that I perceived women and the way I thought about sex. Before testosterone, I would be riding the subway, which is the traditional hotbed of lust in the city. And I would see a woman on the subway, and I would think, she’s attractive. I’d like to meet her. What’s that book she’s reading? I could talk to her. This is what I would say.
There would be a narrative. There would be this stream of language. It would be very verbal.
After testosterone, there was no narrative. There was no language whatsoever. It was just, I would see a woman who was attractive or not attractive. She might have an attractive quality, nice ankles or something, and the rest of her would be fairly unappealing to me.
But that was enough to basically just flood my mind with aggressive, pornographic images, just one after another. It was like being in a pornographic movie house in my mind. And I couldn’t turn it off. I could not turn it off. Everything I looked at, everything I touched, turned to sex.
Anything you’d like to add this part of our discussion? Let us know and we’ll post.
In an effort to reduce “the high risk of the rapid consumption of hard alcohol,” Stanford University on Monday announced a ban on liquors 40 proof or higher from undergrad parties on campus, while also prohibiting undergrads from having hard-alcohol containers that are 750 milliliters or larger in student residences. One reader suspects that Stanford is just trying to cover its own tail:
This new policy will accomplish virtually nothing. It’s merely a liability reduction program for Stanford. Kids will continue to get shit-faced and young women will continue to be raped, but merely off campus, where Stanford has no jurisdiction, responsibility, or liability.
Another reader agrees, calling the policy “stupid and unenforceable”—and he speaks from experience:
My college banned hard liquor entirely on campus, and it never really stopped anyone. That was at a very small school (1,800-2,000 students) where the chance of enforcement was much higher. [Stanford has about 7,000 undergrads.] Sure, every now and then they’d confiscate some things after searching the dorms, but not enough to make any difference I ever noticed.
This next reader, on the other hand, applauds the move from Stanford:
On a dispassionate examination of the variety of factors related to sexual assaults on campus, the primacy of alcohol as a contributing factor cannot be overstated. If this policy is indeed a response to the sexual assault situation (and there are numerous other benefits to reducing the prevalence of consumption of hard liquor on campus), then it should be praised for being a bloody obvious thing to do.
Another reader broaches the context that many believe drove this decision:
I doubt whether this Stanford policy will be very effective at curbing binge drinking among students, but I suppose it probably won’t hurt too much to try. I am looking at it as a general attempt to reduce dangerous binge drinking, rather than as a direct, or particular, response to Brock Turner’s crime. Otherwise it does, indeed, begin to stink of an attempt to cast alcohol as a substance that inspires heinous criminal behavior in and of itself.
All that aside, I understand that “sexual assault” is sometimes a useful euphemism, especially in this age of safe spaces and trigger warnings, but I don’t think we should mince words in this case: Brock Turner raped an unconscious woman. He raped her. It was rape. I believe it’s wrong to neuter the language we use to talk about horrible things like this. It’s important to use plain, unpalatable, uncomfortable terms when discussing the bad things people do, or we risk finding ourselves in a quagmire of waffling equivocations down the line.
Brock Turner, as you probably recall, is the Stanford swimmer who was convicted in June of sexual assault (and using that term isn’t equivocating here; he was specifically convicted of “assault with intent to rape an intoxicated woman, sexually penetrating an intoxicated person with a foreign object, and sexually penetrating an unconscious person with a foreign object,” since prosecutors had dropped the “rape” charges months earlier.) Those foul crimes resulted in just a six-month jail term that effectively ends on September 2—his expected release date—despite a powerful letter read by the rape victim during his sentencing hearing. Turner’s light sentencing set off a firestorm of controversy, including a campaign to recall the judge in the case.
Instead of debating the case, we convened a reader discussion about how parents can talk to their children—from a very young age to their teen years—about rape and sexual assault. To continue that thread, here’s Renie, a long-time reader and mother of two daughters:
I’m about as politically correct a person as you can imagine, but I refuse to pretend that there is nothing a woman can do to make rape less likely. Staying in control of one’s faculties may not prevent all attacks, but it will make them less likely to happen. Rapists choose their victims for their vulnerability, and a woman fully aware of her own surroundings is safer than one who is drunk—not absolutely safe, but certainly safer.
I’ve lived near a major college for a very long time, and there is no question that alcohol abuse is involved in almost every case of campus rape, whether it’s stranger rape or acquaintance rape. [CB note: “almost every case” is very unlikely; “At least 50% of college student sexual assaults are associated with alcohol use,” according to Campus Safety magazine, which provides more data here.] Alcohol also been involved in a number of cases of murder here. Most recently one drunken student stabbed another drunken student to death because of something nasty one said to the other as they left a bar.
That does not mean that I believe that women who are drunk “asked for it” or that drunken rapists are not responsible for their behavior or that the guy who was murdered “asked for it” because he was drunk and said something he shouldn’t have. I am repulsed by the judge in California who apparently believed that the Stanford swimmer was not responsible for committing rape because he was drunk and that an unconscious woman gave consent.
A lot of children begin to drink dangerously long before they go off to college. More begin to do it when they leave home for college or once they are out of high school and working. Too often, I’ve heard other parents talk about their children’s drunken behavior with a rueful sense of inevitability. Don’t laugh about it, and even more importantly, look at your own behavior and the behavior of adults close to you. Children learn from the behavior that is modeled in front of them. Be sure you are a good role model and don’t excuse the behavior of your family and friends. Be honest with your children. Every single adult alcoholic or drug abuser was once a child who learned from the behavior of others. It’s not enough to just say no; you need to make sure you are modeling healthy behavior yourself.
Finally, I’d add to my own children if they were going off to college now: Stay away from large, drunken parties and fraternity houses that are often the site of those parties. Believe it or not, you do not have to participate in the drunken behavior and most students don’t. Even at a large party school, there are many students who don’t spend their time drunk and stoned. Choose friends who don’t drink to get falling-down drunk every weekend. And if you are the person getting drunk all the time, admit that you have a problem that needs to be addressed and either change the behavior. If you can't change the behavior on your own, get help. It is not normal behavior to spend every weekend drunk or stoned.
Renie followed up:
I realize I was writing as a mother of two daughters and left out much of what we must say to our sons. First of all, fathers as well as mothers need to talk to their children about difficult topics. Just as women can talk about a woman’s perspective with more knowledge about women, so can fathers talk better about men and sex.
And both need to talk very frankly with their children that consent is required at any point in a sexual encounter. No consent means: time to stop. It doesn’t matter at what point. And consent requires that a partner be able to consent. If a woman passes out during a sexual encounter, that means stop now. The judge in the Stanford case clearly had not learned that lesson. (Along with that discussion, it’s important to also discuss the role of pornography in normalizing rape.)
And, finally, for both young men and young women, we need to let them know about the joy of sex in a loving relationship. I’m not saying “no sex before marriage”; what I am saying is that sex between two people who know each other and care for each other and want to please each other and be pleased is so much better than drunken encounters, even if rape is not involved.
Another reader also warns against drunken encounters:
I don’t have kids, but my alma mater is being audited by the Department of Education for its handling of allegations of sexual assault on campus, so I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately. There’s no question that alcohol needs to be addressed in the conversation—not in terms of promiscuity or “hook up culture,” but in terms of rape. Most of the reader comments I’ve read so far focus on building empathy and respect (all well and good), but at some point you have to say, “If you have sex with someone who is intoxicated, you’re committing rape and you should know that you can be prosecuted for that.”
Part of what makes Turner’s case exceptional is that it’s so clear cut, but there are many other cases where there aren’t witnesses or the woman isn’t unconscious. I can’t tell you how often I heard in college some variation of “I hooked up with so-and-so last night when we were so drunk.” I really wish that during college orientation someone had laid out exactly what constituted consent and rape—namely, that someone who is intoxicated can’t consent to sex, and that if you can’t tell if someone is too intoxicated to consent, you shouldn’t have sex with them.
***
A reader recalls a horrible experience:
Almost 15 years ago, when I was a freshman in college, I was raped by a classmate. But unlike the woman in the Stanford case, I didn’t report it.
I had been drinking at a campus-wide party that night and a small group eventually moved to the dorm room of someone everyone knew, someone I trusted. I remember him plying me with shots of expensive vodka: “See, you can’t even taste it!”
And then, suddenly, everyone was gone, and only the two of us remained. He asked if I wanted to watch a movie and I said “sure.” I must have passed out soon after; I couldn’t tell you which movie he selected.
When I regained consciousness, he was having sex with me, without a condom, muttering to himself about how much he liked it. When he went to roll over, I grabbed my things and ran. I crawled into the window of my own dorm room and then collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. My roommate woke up and, not knowing what to do, called another friend. Together they sat with me and comforted me until I was ready to talk.
And eventually I did talk, but only to them. At that time, my understanding was that rape involved force and not just lack of consent. He didn’t hold me down when I tried to run away, I told myself. And maybe I had given him some idea that I was interested. I did stay behind, I agreed to watch a movie. Was this really rape?
If I ever had a case that it was rape, I blew it with my next move: I went on a date with him. He asked me to dinner and I agreed, but the date ended without even a kiss goodnight. My repulsion of him did not ebb over that plate of pasta.
In the years since, I have puzzled over this. Why would I agree to go on a date with this man? What on earth was I thinking?
The best answer I can give is that I didn’t want to be a rape victim. At that time, I had only had sex with one other person. I didn’t want my second sexual encounter to be a rape. I wanted to believe that he cared about me. I wanted it to all be a big misunderstanding.
But it wasn’t a misunderstanding. I learned later that there were other girls—girls that came before me and girls that came after. Yet no one ever said a thing. Our perpetrator kept perpetrating and we kept blaming ourselves.
I am so proud of the brave young woman at the center of the Stanford case, for speaking up and telling her story, for doing what my classmates and I did not have the courage to do 15 years ago.
An earlier reader, who anonymously shared her story, pushes back on the suggestion that karate could offer a solution for sexual assault:
Interesting discussion. Thank you for including a variety of responses. I admire the father’s determination to teach his daughter self defense by sending a painful joint lock lesson in the event someone has trouble respecting his daughter’s “no.” It is very important to teach children to say “no” and have their choices respected. It is important to give our children permission and tips to defend themselves. Loving parents hope their children will be successful in defending themselves.
I truly wish karate and other self defenses (i.e. pepper spray, whistles, or a weapon) were the answer to rape prevention. I also pray his daughter is successful if the time ever comes to use karate. I hope she swings into action like all the tough superheroes on television and in the movies. I cheer her on. And applaud her parents and instructors.
I tried to fight. I didn’t win. I was outnumbered and drugged.
I also hope they wrap her in the courage to know that even if she encounters a bigger, stronger, perhaps karate-trained villain(s) who wound or outnumber her, she is not at fault. It is never the victim's responsibility to prevent rape or any other assault.
It is also important to teach our children that while there may be a time to fight, it is equally important to learn when to run if able, or when to remain still and quiet to survive to tell your story, even if you wished to die during the fight. Those are all equally noble and wise choices.
Victims can’t prevent rape. Part of being a victim is being stripped of choices. Victims and their parents are usually only left with choice in how to respond to—and survive— the reality that they are now part of the unfortunate one-in-six statistic. (And as noted by other readers, the perpetrator isn’t always a stranger.)
And if she is successful, still wrap her in comfort; she'll need it because she is a survivor of attempted rape.
The idea that teaching self-defense could somehow shield a woman from sexual assault is a controversial one. And it teeters dangerously close to victim blaming—that is, the implication that it was the victim’s responsibility to prevent the crime (see also: concerns about the victim’s dress or level of alcohol consumption).
In an open letter to the victim in the Stanford case posted by BuzzFeed, Vice President Biden writes, “I join your global chorus of supporters, because we can never say enough to survivors: I believe you. It is not your fault.” He continues:
What you endured is never, never, never, NEVER a woman’s fault. [...]
We will speak to change the culture on our college campuses — a culture that continues to ask the wrong questions: What were you wearing?
Why were you there? What did you say? How much did you drink?
Instead of asking: Why did he think he had license to rape?
In response to our callout, several parents of teenage boys wrote in, sharing their experiences—and offering their best advice for others. Here are three of their stories.
First up is Donald White, the father of two boys, who responds to Juleyka:
Dear Mother of Boys,
I applaud you for your piece in The Atlantic. I chose to share it on Facebook, hoping your modeling suggestions are followed by other parents. I will share aspects of how I parent my sons, ages 19 and 16.
The Stanford rape piece is so very sad. From my point of view, Brock’s father failed as a role model for his son. It seems Brock did not learn to respect and treasure women. His behavior supports this theory.
I believe our children are brilliant and, when helped with effective parental guidance, can make effective, smart choices if and when they face a difficult situation. In life, we all face challenging situations. I talk to my boys candidly about drinking, drunk driving, sex, STDs, unwanted pregnancy, and death resulting from bad choices that could have been prevented. I do not hold back; I use real-life examples to make strong points. I was an RA in college and saw many poor choices regarding alcohol, driving, vandalism, unwanted pregnancy, and more.
Both my boys tell me their friends do not talk to their parents as my boys talk to me. I smile and feel good when I hear this. I have tried to model parenting as you suggest. I talk about integrity and honesty often with my boys. I point out examples of integrity and the lack of integrity in the news. Sadly, integrity is lacking all too often.
I believe our children can handle real, sad, impactful aspects of life most of us face directly or experience via friends along our path. Every time my boys go to a party, even if nearby, I look at them and say, “Be smart.”
I tell my boys I love them often. When our children know they are loved, they are more likely to talk to their parents.
So far, so good …
A few organizations back up his suggestion: “Discussing and listening to teens can build mutual trust,” the Orange County Rape Crisis Center advises parents on talking to teens about sexual violence. The organization offers a list of seven “messages to share with your teens,”broaching everything from dating and sex to consent and sexual assault. Check out their full list here.
Here’s another reader, who also encourages parents to pursue difficult conversations with their teens:
As with so many things, conversations regarding respect for women and girls must be repeated over time. Unfortunately, the news will provide many teachable moments on this subject.
When my son was in middle school, there was a story on the radio about a local woman who was beaten, and I talked to my appalled son about how unacceptable that behavior is. Then, there was the teenage girl who'd been kidnapped for a number of months and was found alive across the street from our home. We discussed the many things that were wrong with that situation as the case went through the courts. It can be difficult to keep these conversations age appropriate, but in general, details aren't necessary.
My son is now 17-year-old gentleman who will enter college a year from now. We have discussed the Stanford case and consent. As he's gotten older, I’ve asked more questions. By his answers, I can tell he really gets it and is fully capable of moral reasoning.
These aren't the easiest conversations, especially the first one, but you can't teach your values without having these conversations.
Another parent of a teenage boy weighs in:
I repeatedly have talks with my 14-year-old son about sex, love and women. I have told him that sex is one of the best parts of life, but that you need to be old enough and ready to bear the responsibilities. I have told him that birth control is his responsibility, no one else’s. I have repeatedly explained that it is the female’s duty to consent. If she doesn’t say yes, she means no. Do not take anything for granted. Be sure that you both want the same things. Try not to get carried away by your emotions and desires. Do not assume anything.
Soon, I will begin to talk to him about alcohol and how it can impair judgment, not that it is in any way an excuse. It, however, bears discussion.
An important note on that reader’s email: It is not always “the female’s duty to consent.” For instance, under California’s new “yes means yes” consent law, that responsibility lies on both participants in the act, regardless of gender. From the Associated Press’s 2015 report on the law:
Under a “yes means yes” standard, sexual activity is considered consensual only when both partners clearly state their willingness to participate through “affirmative, conscious and voluntary agreement” at every stage.
Here’s Stop It Now!, a nonprofit aimed at preventing child sexual abuse, with some advice on talking to teens—male or female—about consent:
Teens need information not only about child sexual abuse but also about the laws of consent in their state. As our judicial system holds more teens responsible as adults, there are significant and long-lasting results for teens who engage in illegal sexual behaviors, even with other teens who are close in age. “I know you and your girlfriend love each other but you are 19 years old and she is 15 and that makes being sexual with each other illegal. If she gets pregnant or her parents press charges, you could have to register as a sex offender for the rest of your life. It is important for both of you to wait until you are older.”
The U.S. Department of Health & Human Services offers a state-by-state breakdown of “age of consent laws.”
We previously heard from readers and experts about how to talk to very young children about consent as a foundation for more explicit discussions about rape and sexual assault when they’re older and more mature—and far more likely to encounter such dangers. But this next reader, based on personal experience, warns against assault occurring when those kids are still so young:
Thank you and Caroline for hosting a sane discussion on sexual safety. I’d prefer to remain anonymous on this; I don’t want to attract unwanted attention.
I was truly bothered by [the reader note from a parent] teaching a 5-year-old girl karate so that she could someday defend herself from rape. Not that I’m against teaching 5-year olds karate; it’s a great way for children to learn self discipline and focus, and it builds habits that will benefit a person throughout their life.
The thing that got me here was the false sense of security, particularly when it comes to a child’s safety from sexual predators—because the most likely predator for that girl, until she begins developing secondary sexual traits, is a friend or family member who actively cultivates her love, someone who grooms her. And no amount of physical self defense will help her through the violation of trust she’ll experience.
Perhaps that’s a different discussion, but the threat to that girl isn’t date rape or violent “forced rape” (all rape is forced); it’s the friend or family member who’s potentially already on the inside of her parent’s circle of trust.
I say this as both a victim of a pedophile and a victim of a rape. Looking back, I see that the arc of the pedophile to the date rapist could almost be predicted. My pedophile destroyed my trust and replaced the concept that I had a right to consent with risky sexual behavior as a way of reclaiming my sexuality from him. It took me a very long time to work it out.
I don’t have an answer to teaching consent, other than to say that setting an example of consent and respect is the best way to teach consent and respect.
The writer, Patty Onderko, backs up our reader’s assertion about the most common source of sexual abuse: “80 to 90 percent of abuse is committed not by strangers but by someone the child knows well—and possibly loves.” Here’s some expert advice via Onderko:
Don’t keep secrets.
Sex abusers almost always manipulate the children they molest through secrets. They’ll tell kids, “This is our secret. You can’t tell your mom because she’ll be very mad at you.” Remind your child frequently that no adult should ever ask her to keep secrets. And that includes you. “If you keep a secret with your child, it confuses the message that it’s not okay for other grown-ups to do,” says [Char Rivette, executive director of the Chicago Children’s Advocacy Center].
Continued here. If you have any insight into this particular kind of abuse, please let us know. Update from reader Jennifer:
It talks about talking to your children in age appropriate ways as an important first step. Yes, talk to your kids about not keeping secrets. But also talk to them about bodily autonomy. Things that may seem innocuous (tickling a child when he says stop, hugging a child when she doesn’t want to) sends the message that they don’t have control over their bodies. Respect those boundaries.
The training also talks about minimizing opportunities and best practices for schools and churches to utilize to prevent opportunities for sexual abuse to occur (e.g. minimizing the amount of time where one adult is alone with one child). I've taken the training and I can’t recommend it enough for anyone who has children in their lives.
Another reader, Jack, recommends a children’s book called Sex is a Funny Word: “It’s an excellent sex-ed book for kids written by Cory Silverberg with a really powerful chapter about Secret Touch.”
Yesterday, Caroline composed an excellent roundup of advice from parents on how to counsel very young children on the basics of consent to prep them for the more explicit talks about sex, partying, and rape when they’re older. Another email we received from a parent particularly struck me, however, because its self-defense theme overlaps with a note from an adult discussion of rape we had back in October, specifically from a woman who underscored “the historical significance of self defense in feminism from the ‘70s and ‘80s.” Here’s our note from Mike:
Thank you to Juleyka and her husband for the way they’re raising their sons and the important lessons they’re teaching them about consent. As the father of a daughter, though, I feel there is more to be done than just teaching boys to be better to women. From Brock Turner’s actions, to the statements from his father, and the horrific sentencing, it’s obvious to me that all men and boys are not being taught the same things about how we should value women and girls in our society.
That’s why my wife and I have had our daughter studying Karate since the age of 5.
Actually, we all study Karate together. The dojo is run by a very strong woman, who teaches us all about how we carry ourselves, awareness of our surroundings, and mild/medium/hot responses to threats.
This is not about hating men, or instilling fear in our daughter. It’s about how we need to be aware that there are dangers out there, and we need to be prepared for them. It’s the same reason she is learning how to swim.
I don’t feel a gun would be the answer for her future safety. A gun can be taken from you. What my daughter is learning can’t be taken from her.
The power of NO is something both genders need to learn and respect. But, we are also teaching our daughter that if NO isn’t sufficient, then NO and a good joint lock probably will be.
When she is old enough we will then talk about the role of drugs and alcohol in safety. But since she’s only ten, neither my wife or I are ready for that can of worms as yet.
The Stanford case left many feeling horrified—not least among them parents, who struggled to grasp the reality of “that could’ve been my kid.” A viral letter from Brock Turner’s father to the judge quickly brought parenting into the controversy. “Brock is not the victim here,” one North Carolina father shot back, according to The Washington Post. “His victim is the victim.”
The high-profile case sparked a discussion in Notes: How should parents talk about rape and consent with their kids? First, Juleyka shared her story. “My sons are still very young, but when the time comes, we’ll have many conversations with them—about their bodies, about attraction, about permission and consent, about building love from friendship, and about accountability,” she wrote, inviting other parents to write in.
Many readers—including some parents of kids under 5—responded to her callout. “I’ve been thinking about this topic since my son’s birth two years ago,” writes one primary school teacher and mother. She continues:
Consent has as much to do with setting personal boundaries—for yourself and others—as it does with preventing sexual assault. Explaining consent to small children has little to do with sex, although it does help prevent sexual assault as well as giving children a voice if they are threatened by or actually assaulted at any age.
Learning consent for small children means if you are tickling your best friend and she says to stop then you stop—even though you personally think tickles are the best. Consent means that when you're wrestling with your friend and you can tell he doesn't want to anymore, you stop—even if you love rough-housing and could wrestle forever.
Understanding consent at a young age is formative for all kinds of adult relationships: For example, if a friend wants to quit a game because he's losing or is being a poor sport that's fine, but you tell him that you don't like the way he quit and next time you won't play that game with him again.
These are basic yet very important social skills that are the building blocks of developing empathy and self-worth. This is teaching children to have boundaries and stand up for themselves and others. In the pre-teen and teen years it's important to explicitly explain how this pertains to sex, yet the main idea remains the same.
Here’s another parent of young daughter:
We have a 4-year-old and have taught her the following (applicable to any sort of situation): “Just because you ask nicely doesn't mean the person has to say yes, and just because someone asks you nicely doesn't mean you have to say yes.”
Right now, that mainly covers sharing toys, having cookies and screen time, and not going to bed, but our hope is that, by the time she is old enough for sexual consent to be an issue, she will have internalized that she doesn't have to feel pressured by polite-but-entitled boys (or girls).
In an interview with my colleague Adrienne LaFrance, Scott Berkowitz—the founder and president of RAINN—offered the following advice: “When speaking to a national audience or the general public, we strongly encourage parents to have those conversations starting at the age when their kids are starting to spend more time with friends out of the home, and start to be in social situations that could turn dangerous... even if it’s before the parents think [it’s appropriate for their child to be sexually active].” (Adrienne spoke with Berkowitz for her piece on what happens when people stop talking about the Stanford rape case.) RAINN’s guide on talking to kids about sexual assault recommends that parents “teach young children the language they need to talk about their bodies and information about boundaries to help them understand what is allowed and what is inappropriate.”
Another good resource is The Huffington Post's "list of parenting action items" for talking about consent, including kids under 5. Have other recommendations of resources for teaching consent specifically? Let us know.
Crystal Holsinger, the mother of two daughters under age 4, says she started teaching consent to her girls “from the day they were born”:
While I do think it is important to address sexual assault and rape at a certain point with children and young adults, I believe that teaching consent starts at birth. An example would be when a person asks me to hold our baby. It may seem silly, but I say, “Ask her.” If they do, and she reaches out for them, great. If they try to and she is upset, then she stays with me. A person’s body is theirs, at one day old or 50 years old.
Another example is with our 3-year-old. We never force physical affection. If she doesn't want to hug her grandparents, uncle, or whomever, then we respect that. We also teach (demonstrate) for her that if another person doesn't want to hug, hold hands, or high five, then it's their choice. Their body, their choice.
We have had friends who try to force our child to hug theirs (often a boy) because they think it's cute. We have to reaffirm that no one ever should feel pressured into that.
Before our girls were born, I taught middle-school sexual health education and wove consent into the discussion every day. What does consent look like, sound like, feel like? I took a more direct approach with the 7th and 8th grade years, and went into how drinking and drugs come into play.
Have you talked to your preteen about consent? Have thoughts about how consent should be taught in schools? Drop us a note.
I was raped while I was in college, so I'm 1 in 6. I didn’t report it, and I washed all the evidence down the drain.
I have a 25-year-old son and a 19-year-old daughter. We live in Maryland, my daughter goes to college in Los Angeles, and I fear my daughter becoming another statistic. We have discussed Brock Turner’s victim’s letter to the judge, the father’s letter, the friend’s letter, the hero’s action, and the judge’s poor sentencing. I hope the rape culture will change for them and all other women and men.
Rape at its core is about boundaries, so I intentionally began my discussion with my children about rape and assault when they were toddlers. They learned the proper words for their body parts. We also taught them that it is never too late to change their mind and to respect their friend’s choices. Safety was an important word and one of the first assessments we taught our children to do. I didn’t use the words assault or rape until they were entering middle school. However, I used every teachable moment to begin teaching them the value of their bodies, respect and compassion for others, responsibility for their actions, accountability, admitting hurt, and seeking help.
Their interactions with other children, adults, and authority figures provided lots of opportunities to discuss power and control, bullies, and consent. Having this type of dialogue with them when they were very young kept the discussion open for them to discuss relationships, things they saw on television, heard or saw their friends do, or even things they said or did. My husband and I taught them empathy and the value of others.
Their lives offered many teachable moments to talk about sex, love, assault, rape. And we taught them how to de-escalate situations, as well as the importance of intervention if a situation wasn’t safe or someone was in danger of hurting themselves or others.
When my son was a sophomore in college, it became important to share my own experience with him after someone he knew at his college was accused of raping another student. He was trying to process who he believed, and—despite all our teaching—I heard him practically recite every rape myth about drinking: The guy was a good guy, well liked, the girl messed up the guy's life, it was consensual … and the belief that he needed to judge the truth.
It became important for me to share my own story with my daughter before she went to college last year because, quite frankly, I was a mess and needed to explain what appeared to be very irrational behavior. However, my daughter had already read on my blog that I had been raped, so it went much smoother than my discussion with my son.
I believe we have made it clear to them that, while we would support them no matter what they have done, they will be encouraged to tell the truth. We won’t lie for them. They should expect consequences for their behavior and understand the importance of apologizing to the satisfaction of the harmed. They should seek forgiveness but can’t force forgiveness.
The first time I read the statement from the victim in the Stanford rape case, I was alone at my dining table, after my children had gone to sleep and my husband retired to our room to watch a basketball game. I swallowed hard as I took in the many ways the woman’s body and self-worth were ravaged by her attacker. My body recoiled at some of the graphic descriptions of what he did to her behind a dumpster. But it was my mother’s instinct that sent my mind reeling as I thought about my two sons—ages four and six—ever finding themselves in such a gruesome situation. I finished reading it and walked toward my room, my laptop shaking in my hands.
I asked my husband to turn the game off, as I had something to read to him. (I often read things aloud to him, something we discovered we both enjoyed while dating ten years ago.) We sat up against the cushioned headboard and I began to read. At first, my husband was silent and still. As I read further, he began to respond physically, adjusting his sitting position, folding and unfolding his arms, moving his legs to one side and back again. I could tell he was captivated and revolted by the intimate and painful testimony. I could also tell that he was already thinking about our sons. His glance wandered toward our open bedroom door and across to their room’s closed one.
As I read, I took deep breaths because my voice started to shake and my eyes began to water. When I came to the end, I closed my laptop slowly and turned to my husband.
“We can never let this happen to the guys. We cannot allow them to grow up thinking this is okay.”
“It won’t. They won’t.”
We sat in silence for a few seconds. I felt tears forming in my eyes from the fear welling up inside me.
My husband, who is gentler and kinder in ways I can only imitate, recited all the ways we have already taught our sons to respect other people, especially women. He reassured me about the closeness that binds our family of four, a bond that makes our little tribe the safest place for our children and for us. I nodded along as a headache inched its way from the recesses of my brain.
I could only manage to repeat, “We have to show them. We can’t just tell them.” It is a mantra my husband and I often say to one another as we navigate the maze that is modern parenting. With our oldest son we learned early that every expectation has to be modeled, not just stated. If you want him to clear his plate, he has to see you clear your plate. If you want him to say please and thank you, he must first hear you say those words. It is with this knowledge that we have also learned to respect the boundaries, especially physical ones, that our toddlers sometimes set.
Maybe one of us has tickled someone too much. Maybe the little one wants to stretch on the couch without contact from anyone else. Maybe the wrestling game between the two of them lasted a little too long and someone wants to end it. We have all learned to express and respect those limits in our house (even when mom wants just one more snuggle in the morning). I have seen how much receiving such respect from my husband and me has helped them give it to one another and to others. At the same time, I’m fully aware that the measure of independence we’re trying to instill in them as we raise them will lead them to make choices that lead to rewards and consequences. My hope is that the seeds I plant will grow as they do.
My sons are still very young, but when the time comes, we’ll have many conversations with them—about their bodies, about attraction, about permission and consent, about building love from friendship, and about accountability. Some of those may come much sooner than we expect. Many others will hopefully be initiated by our sons, and we’ll be eager and equipped to listen and share. Until then, my husband and I plan to model and repeat the expectations we’ve set for our family.
We’d love to hear from you: How did you talk about this at home, with your family? Do you have any advice for other parents about how to broach the subject of consent and sexual assault? Send us a note at hello@theatlantic.com.
(In case it warrants clarifying, this is a personal note about one person’s reaction to the statement, not a political treatise on parenting or rape culture. I’m talking to you, trolls.)
