When No Isn’t An Option
No means no. Many of us are taught that from the earliest days of our lives. Anyone who has ever dealt with a toddler during the “No” stage certainly has. “No” helps alert one to a potential danger, a refusal of acceptance, or a denial.
She didn’t say no. How many times have we heard that or read a comment as such? How many times have we (not so) silently thought to ourselves, “… well, I mean, she ... didn’t.” It’s human nature to be inquisitive. Questioning reason or meaning is a natural occurrence of being a person. When we become aware of some titillating gossip or sensational sex story, the water-cooler banter begins, with unaffected bystanders and their woulda, coulda, shoulda’s of what really happened.
But the sad reality is many children are or were never allowed to say “no.” And while some of those children grow into more or less emotionally healthy adults, able to push back in whatever degree, trauma responses are many layered and contain worlds of pain for others.
As a child, my body was violated by an older male relative, a widowed Vietnam veteran, while I was on vacation with my grandmother visiting family. My spirit was violated when I told a trusted adult what happened and I was beaten for “saying such nasty things” and “being a slut with a dirty mind.” I was four.
I would also be sent back summer after summer. Then one day I was told he had passed away. I was silent, but numb. “Don’t you even care?” No. Wrong response. The adult who had informed me of this news was unimpressed with my reaction, so they made sure I mourned appropriately and cried as much as they were. I was ten.
Such traumatic events are more commonplace than most want to admit to themselves. No one wants to present themselves as a victim, or weak, or otherwise unfit for society. No one wants to be or appear sullied or damaged in the eyes of their community. No one wants to have to retraumatize themselves by reliving what they are already mentally reliving in their darkest or happiest moments.
Body cues can be funny. Fight, flight, freeze, or the less discussed, fawn, are all responses to unknown situations we find ourselves in. Sometimes what is being said in our head just does not reach our vocal chords, directives ignored by stiffened limbs. One can be screaming themselves raw “no” internally, body freezing or going limp, as they are being violated externally, silent in their suffering.
But that silence is deafening. Statistically, one in six Utah women has been or will be raped. Child sex abuse crimes have not diminished. Domestic violence and sexual violence and abuse have not diminished. Despite living in the most technologically advanced society, people continue to be violated, having their fundamental bodily autonomy and body integrity taken from them, both illegally and legally.
That data does not account for those who are simply not allowed to say no. Those who are in abusive relationships, those whose belief system operates on antiquated understandings of human maturity, and/or the otherwise coerced. Those who have been previously abused and simply accept their violation. People are threatened into all sorts of situations or scenarios they normally would refuse, particularly when power balance is involved.
And when is it not?
Violation of the mind and body is the most inhumane act one can commit. Who are we, if not our consciousnesses and the bodies we occupy? This is why there is an increased awareness push for “enthusiastic consent.” Clear communication, especially within, but not exclusive to, a sexual relationship, is integral to ensuring all parties consent and that one’s basic human rights remain intact.