Content warning: This article contains details and accounts of sexual assault.
What did your first lesson on consent and sex look like? Perhaps you were taught in pre-or primary school that your body belongs to you, and if you were feeling uncomfortable or unsafe, a simple “no, thank you” would restore a safe barrier and protect you from unwanted interactions with other children. Chances are your main form of sex education came in high school, with the classic condom-on-a-banana lesson accompanied by awkward giggles and inappropriate jokes.
I remember sitting with the rest of the year 11 girls in my co-ed school’s drama room, aged 16, being captivated by a charismatic ex-cop’s presentation on “consent”. We were taken through a list of what counts as assault, told that “date rape” is the most common form of assault, and listened carefully as he comedically demonstrated how to escape a situation. I walked away thinking how great it was that we were now equipped with the tools to avoid date rape — telling our “date” that we have to freshen up (because, according to the speaker, that’s what all men think women do before sex) then locking ourselves in the bathroom before calling for help or climbing out the window to escape.
As it turns out, this same presentation (albeit a few years later) enlightened Chanel Contos to the
