As a young woman and high school student educator, I stood before high school students in Washtenaw County during a sex education presentation, to ask a seemingly simple question: “What does consent mean?” I saw a few students exchanging glances, casting blank stares at the question in big bold letters on the projection screen. Most didn’t answer — the discomfort in the room was palpable. Everyone knew the word, but no one was comfortable speaking about it. Specifically for many young women in the room, silence was learned.
Conversations around sex have long reflected the perspectives of dominant identities, while sidelining the voices of the marginalized: women. Messages embedded in purity culture have expected women, in contrast to men, to be modest and “sexually pure.” This actively discourages conversations about sex and boundaries. In that context, even the act of raising a hand to define “consent” can feel rebellious as a young woman.
Watching the young women in the room hesitate helped me understand that consent isn’t just hard to talk about, but it is also hard to truly understand when you have never been shown what it looks like. Consent is a term so frequently used in today’s culture that it becomes abstract when it comes to applying the term to relationships. It’s one thing to define “consent” in one word or phrase in front of your class. It’s a completely different emotional experience to apply it yourself and say “no” to a loved one, knowing it might hurt them.
This is why, when presenting, I turned to a practical tool that will help in various uncomfortable situations where assertive consent is needed; it is a handy acronym called FRIES. The F is so consent is freely given, as in not a result of peer pressure. The R stands for reversible, as people are entitled to change their mind at any time. It represents the fact that consent should be informed, where all parties involved are aware of what they are agreeing to. The E stands for enthusiastic, meaning that consent should come from genuine excitement.
Lastly, consent must be specific, because saying “yes” to one thing doesn’t mean saying yes to anything else. The S can also stand for “sober,” because having sex with a person who is intoxicated is illegal in our state. Teaching everyone in my classroom these skills prepares them for a plethora of situations, instead of simply telling them “yes means yes and no means no.” When students understand this, they feel well equipped to navigate difficult situations.
Luckily, almost a year before this educational moment, Michigan took a major step forward in terms of consent education. On July 11, 2023, Governor Gretchen Whitmer signed Senate Bill 66, requiring middle and high school students to receive age-appropriate and relevant information about consent and sexual assault as part of core sex education. As a young woman, it is incredibly encouraging to see legislation directly addressing an issue that disproportionately affects us.
I still remember how daunting it was to stand in front of other students and talk about topics like consent, sexual assault and its intersection with gender identity as a teenager myself. Topics like this felt risky to talk about due to societal stigma, but when SB 66 was signed into effect, it felt like validation that our concerns were being taken seriously. It shifted conversations about consent from being awkwardly forced into curricula to being essential and supported.
However, two years after SB 66 in effect, I have seen firsthand how the politics of sex education hinder real progress. This past school year, for the first time since COVID-19, some schools in my area did not schedule a sex ed lesson with their student educators. No one officially explained why, but in today’s political climate, I think that this just became another issue that’s been systematically ignored.
Across our country, we have seen alarming restrictions on reproductive rights. Even the sheer controversy of discussing such matters is distressing. Recently, the viral case of a deceased Georgia woman, Adriana Smith, kept alive against her family’s will to deliver a baby, sparked controversy and outrage. In the same few months, we have witnessed President Donald Trump pardon individuals violating the Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances Act, an act that is supposed to protect reproductive rights for all.
Meanwhile, in Michigan, Planned Parenthood clinics in Jackson, Petoskey and Marquette have closed down, and two Ann Arbor clinics have now consolidated into the only one in Southeast Michigan. These closures have occurred due to cuts in Title X funding.
With all the disheartening political challenges that America faces today, something like consent education may feel small. It feels almost optional, something that we can just brush over because it should be common sense. But the truth is that it’s not. If we can’t even teach young people how to define it, then how can we expect young people to fight for it when it’s taken away? What makes this conversation seem so big is that it pushes all females and female-identifying individuals to challenge the silence that is expected of them.
Silence around consent education just allows sexual assault to continue. To avoid teaching consent means allowing discomfort and political pressures to dictate our priorities. In order to keep young people safe, we need the bravery to stand up when sexual assault prevention is swept under the rug. And in Michigan, we have tools: students who are passionate about sex education, growing awareness and legislation that addresses the issue. We all just need the bravery to use these tools.
Shruti Attili is a senior at Washtenaw International High School in Ypsilanti, Michigan. She can be reached at sattili2@wihi.org.
