I agreed to the Man Who Assaulted Me, but I Never Truly Consented
The past few years have been challenging for survivors like myself, deeply affected by the revelations of misconduct and harassment by numerous Hollywood figures, both men and women.
It all began with the explosive 2017 exposé by The New York Times, exposing producer Harvey Weinstein’s decades-long history of escort service in Noida.
Buoyed by the strength of numbers, other individuals, regardless of gender identity, began coming forward with their own accounts of assaults by Hollywood A-listers. It feels like you could randomly pick a name from a list of these stars, and chances are their past actions are now coming back to haunt them.
Let’s be clear: it’s never acceptable for anyone, regardless of gender, to accept assault, harassment, or ‘misconduct’ as something they must endure.
In The New York Times article exposing Louis C.K.’s alleged misconduct, an anonymous woman states that when C.K. asked if he could perform a lewd act in front of her, she reluctantly said yes. She reflects, “I knew it was wrong… I think the main reason I said yes was because of the culture… he abused his power.”
Some might argue, “Well, she said yes, so she consented, and he’s in the clear.” However, this line of reasoning is a treacherous slope that we, as a society, need to scrutinize and Aerocity Escort Service.
To begin, let’s define “consent.” According to Merriam-Webster, it means giving assent or approval.
Now, let’s examine the term “duress”: compulsion by threat or force; coercion; constraint.
If I were to refuse my boss, even when I know his request is inappropriate, would he decide not to promote me? Would he fire me?
These individuals in the entertainment industry didn’t wake up one day and think, “I’m going to grab a coffee and watch Louis C.K. expose himself.” or “I wish Harvey Weinstein would assault me and threaten my dreams.”
However, some still wonder if merely being in the room (and sometimes, reluctantly going along with these powerful figures’ actions) makes these women complicit in some way.
I understand this sentiment because I’ve spent every day of my life questioning if I gave consent to the man who assaulted me.
He didn’t have the power to derail my career, but he did possess the physical power to harm or kill me. When I found myself in his car (I berated myself for allowing such a situation), he demanded intimacy.
I initially refused and explained that I wasn’t in the mood. Then, he reminded me that he was physically stronger than me (once again, I blame myself) and revealed a knife in his glove compartment (I knew it was there and still allowed myself to be alone with him). After about 30 agonizing seconds, fearing for my life, I reluctantly agreed to let him touch my body.
So… was that assault? I didn’t realize it at the time, not until I confided in some girlfriends who stood by me, raised their voices with me, and supported me as I confronted the reality of being assaulted.
But I did say yes.
(Here’s that slippery slope I mentioned earlier.)
Would you blame me for what transpired? Did I somehow invite it by spending time with the man I was seeing and saying yes after being threatened with a knife?
If you wouldn’t blame me, then you can’t blame the men and women who are now stepping forward with allegations against powerful figures.
I was terrified of the repercussions, just as I’m certain many other women and men who’ve come forward were.
So, can a yes sometimes be a no?
Yes.
I said yes to a man who threatened my life, but genuine consent was never given.
He assaulted me, and until more people take the time to understand what individuals in these situations go through, and stop placing blame on the victims rather than the perpetrators, we’re essentially giving the green light for more people to harass and assault those like me who were too afraid to say no.
Sexual abuse is alarmingly common.
RAINN reports that every 68 seconds, an American becomes a victim of sexual violence. The majority of victims are women, and adult victims are women in 90% of cases. This is especially prevalent among female college students, who face a risk three times higher than the average.
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