Hello, reader. How are you doing? I’m thinking about consent and power. Also consent and autism, and consent in families.
Consent is sacred. I’m always learning how to be respectful, including better ways to
- ask
- hear real answers
- have boundaries
- understand norms and social rules
- know myself
- spend enough time alone to clear others’ energy
- know my own desires and needs
- check in before, during, and after
- back up
- accept all kinds of no
- find my own no
There’s consent with sex and other touch. But also consent with conversation, taking pictures, sharing info. Consent in families and friendship. Consent at events like a zine fest, radical mental health collective meeting, protest, holiday celebration, party. And consent in community.
bluntness and autism
I have a lot of judgement. Sometimes I want to say a thing, but it can upset people to hear feedback that sounds critical, especially when they didn’t ask for advice.
“Unsolicited advice” is a fascinating concept. Mostly, I’m supposed to be honest. But some ideas and feelings I have will be considered unsolicited advice, which is taboo.
Autism has a reputation for bluntness. A lot of femmes and AFABs with autism mask super hard, avoiding conflict, and moderating our truth for our safety. Once we begin to unmask, to experiment with sharing different parts of ourselves, bluntness gets us into trouble. We’re called rude or worse.
Social interaction is confusing. Autistic ways of relating can throw people off. My deep lack of trust can confuse people, as well as a strange immediate trust in unexpected places.
Autism is its own culture, layered intersectionally with everything else. I’m glad for difference.
consent and race
Was I ever taught consent? Hell no–I’ve had to investigate that out for myself.
Kinda like public school sex ed in the 1990s was inadequate for the queer trans life I would live. Knocking before opening a door is about as far as my consent learning got as a kid. Even then, doors were opened without knocking.
The truth is, I was violenced and violated as a child. It’s amazing I made it to adulthood. When the rules are obviously not applicable to everyone, how do I know what’s right?
Sometimes I can feel “wrong” in my body. That was confusing in workplaces too, when I worked for money; there are official rules, and then the ways people can and cannot get away with breaking them.
Who needs to do consent? We all do. But in some families, workplaces, communities, churches, and other social spaces, the people who have more power consider consent optional. For our safety, the people with less power have to go along with it.
Then someone speaks up and risks their life to tell the truth, protecting other less powerful people, taking a stand for justice. The fallout for that can be disruptive, if not lethal.
Hmm, that is a sad situation. I’m sorry we still need to risk everything, breaking silence. In my art and writing, radical mental health, transqueer fat disabled dance, relationships, and in all the ways I do community, I’m trying to make a world where power is shared and all people matter. Not just men and the people who take power with force.
consent in families with race
Boundaries can seem white. I’ve heard other POC and people from mixed backgrounds mention how POC families have no boundaries. We’re in each other’s business 100%.
That’s a whole other topic– how white people love, as opposed to POC love. I guess we are all on a set of slideys, where 1 is giving total space, and 10 is needing to share all things. What’s comfortable for you?
I remember my mom on her phone, looking at a picture I had sent her. She zoomed in on background details to look for things I was hiding from her.
Oh Mama! I didn’t want to be loved like that. But I remember that moment because I feel guilty that part of her was starving. She was looking for details of my life that I had kept from her, trying to know me. There was a weird push-pull where she was terrified of certain parts of my mental health, relationships, sexuality, moods… Juxtaposed with her terrible hunger to know everything, control me, and be more in my business.
What an awkward place. I was trying to be a good daughter. There was no way. I wanted to love and give, but wow, I was so confused about the line.
love and race
Everyone who tries to love me these days… besides Ming, they are mostly white people. You might have no idea how it feels to come from a Mexican-American mixed family. My bodily understandings of familia, what we share, touch, food, time, loyalty, and love might be totally different from yours.
That affects expectations and how I’m going to get hurt. Not to mention the trauma of actual violence, violation, and harm.
Of course I’m going to get hurt. If you’re not up for hurt and conflict, I’m sorry to bother you. If you want me to be white, abled, self-sufficient, and have no needs, you won’t find that with me. Please move along.
questions for discussion
How was consent in your family of origin?
How was power? Who had it?
Did you have weird push-pulls with your mom?
How does that still affect your life?
What do people need to know, who try to be close to you, that they might not know?
Would you like to form a non-profit with me to study consent in families and facilitate workshops for families who want to change their consent styles?
How much space do you need?
What amount of hurt and conflict do you tolerate in relationships?
What’s your ideal relationship?
How do you need to be loved?
