The sexual consent guide for dummies

Chanel Contos. When she was just 13, she was sexually assaulted by someone, who a year later, assaulted her friend. None of them knew squat about sexual assault. Later in high school, Contos and three friends went to a party, where at some point in the night, they realized that one of them was missing.

A quick look around discovered their friend, unconscious and barely clothed, with a boy on top of her. As you would expect of such scenes, there was commotion, loud cheers and boos; and the four girls – not the perpetrator – were thrown out of the party. They carried their unconscious friend and left, embarrassed, feeling angry at what had happened but somewhat powerless; and oblivious still, that what had happened amounted to sexual assault.

This year, a 23-year-old university student, she sat with one of those friends, reflecting on their years as teenagers. Older and more knowledgeable, they were able to process what had happened and the gravity of the effect it had had on them and their friends. They knew is that throughout their lives, they had been touched, talked to or treated in ways that they hadn’t liked; ways that they hadn’t even invited it on themselves. They also knew that those actions had altered how they had and would live their lives, and make choices thereafter. They knew that it wasn’t just them, that it was virtually every woman; and wondered whether their aggressors even knew the damage that they had caused.

The thing about sexual assault and harassment, the thing that women tend to notice but men don’t, is that whereas every woman has been or knows another that has been sexually assaulted, men very rarely – or claim not to – know any assaulters. 
That’s why this week’s passing of the Sexual Offences Bill, by the Parliament of Uganda, is hardly surprising. If you consider that majority of those who voted yes to deleting the clause on sexual consent are most likely to be perpetrators and/or already guilty of the offense – at least from their own submissions – then you know why for women, the law is not the answer.

“Explain it like you are talking to a five-year-old.” That’s a phrase you often hear repeated, to emphasize the need to breakdown complexities. You might also have noticed that complex theories have guides for beginners and dummies. So, let’s assume that we are writing a Dummies’ guide on sexual consent for our Members of Parliament – who clearly don’t get it.

We’ll use a political analogy because every dum-dum in politics gets that, yeah? The President has ultimate authority and power to appoint or disappoint – without seeking your permission or waiting for the appointee to finish. The appointing authority doesn’t force you to take up the position, right? It’s sensible to only agree have you have been given all the information you require to say yes, right? Your yes has got to be emphatic, so that there is no confusion as to whether you agreed or didn’t, yeah? Your job description has to be specific, so that you don’t overstep your mandate – appointment as UEGCL boss doesn’t give you any claims to UETCL, you get?

Sexual consent pretty much works like that. If it is forced or coerced, it is rape. It has to be emphatic and specific so that there is no second-guessing what has been agreed to; it can be reversed or taken back by its giver at any time. Not hard, yeah, dunderhead!? We didn’t even need examples from Uganda to prove that men – powerful or not – feel entitled to women. Some might fight back or ignore it, but what happens to all the little girls for whom even a law that doesn’t work is all there is for protection?

Mr Rukwengye is the founder, Boundless Minds. [email protected]