Consent is Sexy

We are taking an infant massage class right now, taught by my doula who also happens to be a massage therapist. (...I know, right?! Best occupation combo ever. Even better than millionaire/superhero in my books). The first thing we learnt before even touching our babies is to ask whether it's okay to touch. You know, that whole consent thing. She discussed it for a few brief minutes, highlighting the importance of asking permission and setting that precedent for our little ones: it's their body, it's their choice who if anyone gets to touch it. And while it may seem silly to some and may sound funny to say out loud, establishing early the (radical?) idea that they are the ones in control of their own bodies is definitely important.

And while I'm not at all surprised that my doula incorporated this into her lesson planning (keeping in character with the awesome person she is), it is still a bit surprising to hear it talked about at all. And this surprises *ME*, who taught consent to teens on a daily and weekly basis for a year and a half. It's surprising because it still really isn't talked about often- with kids, or adults.

When I was 15, I was asked out on my first ever date. Being the naive and very boy-inexperienced girl I was, I had no idea what the protocol was, and I was so shocked that instead of answering, I just rambled on about school schedules. But later I tried to "decide" what to do about it with my friends. Even though I wasn't remotely attracted to this boy's personality or physical looks, I didn't really feel like there was any decision to be made other than "yes". After all, I'd never had a boyfriend or received any male attention before. As crazy as it sounds, I seriously didn't think I was allowed to say no. Eventually (like, a few weeks later and after one very awkward date that I insisted was not a date), I "broke it off" in true middle-school fashion: I got my friend to tell his friend that we were not dating and never really were. Classy, I know.

But, had that "relationship" continued, I really think that I would not have felt the ability and permission to say no to other things that I didn't really want- more dates, kissing, sexual activity.... Maybe I would have found my voice ad issued a firm "no" to these things, but maybe not. And that's to things that concern my very own body. The one I live in and you know... OWN. I think part of that was immaturity, but I'm sure another part had to do with upbringing. Stuff like consent was never enforced or even articulated for me by my parents or teachers. Sure, I got the 'stranger danger' talk multiple times, but even that always left me feeling like the powerless, not able to take charge or impart any locus of control of my own fate- "watch out for creeps, they're everywhere and they can rape you and kill you in a second!". And etc. etc.

So, I'm really pleased when I hear the topic of consent discussed openly- with or about children, as in massage class, or with adults- kudos to my feminist social service friends who have hosted "Consent is Sexy" dance parties.

My daughter is just short of 6 months old, and when I imagine her entering the world of dating, I still haven't felt that urge to scream "no dating until she's 30!!!!". (maybe that instinct will kick in, or maybe my liberal leanings have pushed it far down into the depths, I don't know). But I hope, dream, and pray that she will be well informed about consent and feel real power over her body, throughout her whole life and whenever she chooses to start dating. And I really, really hope that whether she dates a boy, a girl, both, or neither, that she feels like she is in control of making that decision and can indeed say "no" if she wants to, and know that it's the right decision for her when to say "yes" as well. Because a couple years later, when I was 17, much more the myself that I am now, and began dating her father, I felt empowered when saying "yes", and got to feel the thrill and joy of what that meant for me. It's absolutely true- consent is sexy.

I'm really, really super beautiful... ya dig?

I know, I haven't blogged in a while. I've been A. busy with life, and B. haven't had much inspiration for anything remotely clever lately (unless having to call a plumber to unclog the roots in my drain sounds like a particularly regaling tale).

I just read this article on Offbeat Mama, called "I've started telling my daughters I'm beautiful".

I think it's a must-read, but if you don't have time for it now, the gist is that your kids think you're beautiful, and as well they should.

Even if you aren't in agreement, "fake it 'til you make it, baby"... use your voice and tell them:
"I love this dress and I love this colour on me"
"My hair is fabulous today"
"Look at how big and beautiful you're making Momma smile right now! Isn't that pretty?"

Or, you know, whatever works. The point is: they think you're a lovely goddess. Don't say anything to counter that perception. And when I say goddess, I don't mean because of your most recent manicure, because you just got back from the hair salon, or because you lost all that baby weight. You're beautiful because you're you.

And, if you're not a Momma, you're still beautiful because you're you. Think about it... why do you love your friends? Your family? Do your love your Mom because of that makeover? Your sister because of her new hair style? Your best friend because she's lost all that baby (or other) weight?

No. You don't. You love them because of who they are, because of what they bring to your life and the gifts they share. Their love, generosity, kindness... their beauty.

So, before the world has a chance to beat the living crap out of their wonderful (and actually, perfectly correct) notions of beauty... before they get that first crushing blow that makes them think twice about their own beautiful bodies... tell them you're beautiful. Tell your Mom you love your eyes- after all, you got them from her. Tell your sister you love the body shape you both share. Tell your best friend that you think your matching sense of style is damn fine.

Don't. Stop. Telling them.