Yes means Yes

One time it happened in Cuzco, South America at the Loki’s Hostel cerca 2014. This hostel was pretty epic. It had several bunk beds in co-ed dorm style sleeping areas, something like, seven bunks per room. There was a computer area upstairs where anyone could connect to the internet – I actually sent out of my first honest and revealing emails (which turned into the beginning of Calamity Kirstin) from those quarters. The bar/restaurant made fantastic western breakfasts, which we were all missing dearly. The redheaded bartender and I shared a White Russian at some ridiculously breakfast (and not brunch) hour.

My two favorite gals, Hannah and Lucy, who I volunteered in the Jungle with, traveled Cuzco with me for a few days,  and so the three of us resided at this famous hostel*. As the morning led into the evening and the restaurant transitioned into a bar, we each grabbed a cerveza and I found myself in my first ever game of Flip Cup. You’re in a line up of teammates and your job is to drink the beer in your solo cup as fast as you can, turn it up-side-down with its edge off the table and flip the cup back onto its proper side. The teammate in line cannot do this until you’ve successfully completely this. I was surprisingly good at this game, and lets just be clear, I do not play any type of team sports, nor do I do drinking games well, so this was a first. The competition across from me caught my eye. He was an American and he was giving me sass just as well as he was getting it. Truthfully, I can’t even remember his name (note this), but something tells me Hannah could tell you. I do remember The American had olive skin, was well built and had just enough arrogance to catch my attention.

After my team lost the drinking game, The American and I ended up talking about nothing memorable, but with several cervezas and this newfound YOLO mentality taking hold, we were kissing outside, joking about his age (I didn’t believe how old he was) and I suddenly found myself in his private hostel room – it had two beds, which he shared with his travel mate. I didn’t instigate the sexual advances, but I didn’t say no and I responded to his flirtatious responses promptly. I was hesitant when the clothing started coming off, and I think he knew that. But I didn’t say no. I’ll just say what we all know: I had sex with the The American.

Shortly afterwards, his buddy drunkenly hammered on the door of their shared sleeping quarters, insisting that he be let in. I blindly searched for my tossed items and sheepishly locked eyes with his buddy as he entered and I left.  Him and I made eye contact yet again the following morning, but I never spoke to or saw The American again. I shrugged it off and left the story with Hannah and deep within South America.

My Bubbly Work Friend and I often have deep, tangents and hasty and intense conversations at work, and somehow a piece of this story came up. The definition of consensual sex can be so complicated because the omission of the word No doesn’t transition into a Yes. And we all know, from those horrible stories that none of us wants to be involved in, but we all seem to know a friend (or a be the friend) who is a rape victim, and that even when No is said, clearly and repeatedly, that rape still happens. My Bubbly Work Friend's suggestion was, that instead of teaching girls and boy, women and men, that No means No, what should be taught is what consensual sex is a Yes. Consensual sex should be in the form of a question and not simply be a response to an action. “Do you want to continue?”, “Are you sure you are comfortable with this?”, “Do you want to have sex with me?” are some of countless ways to structure that question.

The good news story is that not every girl has rape story that they've painfully endured, survived and have overcome but continue to live with. But I truly believe many, many girls have this story: they were unsure about about having sex with someone, but just sort of, kind of, did it anyway - it was just easier to let happen than say No. I don’t, even with the revelation of that time in Cuzco, at the Loki Hostel, think that I was raped. Thinking back, though, I do believe had The American asked me, as we entered his room and directed me onto his bed, something as simple as “Do we keep going?” I probably would have given it a second though, and truthfully, I believe I would have said no. And perhaps this is something I need to train myself. I too need to take two seconds out of these impulsive, hormone hazy moments and ask my [potential] sexual partner, “Are you comfortable with this?”, as it would provide us both with a moment away from this sex infused air to make a vocalized a consensual decision. Even. At. The. Age. Of. Almost. 30. This hasn't been the only time that just doing it was easier than saying no.

 

I think that both sexes need to not only acknowledge that No means No, but more importantly, both the Male and Female sex need to ask that question to fully understand if both people involved in this want to have sex. Let me reiterate, the absence of no doesn’t indicate consensual sex.

Kirstin

It was as if she really was speaking for every woman. And that’s profoundly sad. - Lavanya Ramanathan

*this hostel is mentioned in the book, The Lost Girls. Parts of that book resided with me to such an extent that my heart hurt through the duration of many of those chapters.

The . Taboo

My most memorable Period story took place a few years ago, and it was actually a result of a forgotten O.B tampon. I knew I was nearing the end of my Period, but due to the fear of spotting through my jeans and absolutely hating the feeling of the diaper-like pad on my rear (I swear I even walk bull legged when I wear one), I threw in a tampon so I could just forget about it. It seems I took that literally, because it was during a very intimate moment, and I mean intimate, that my partner mentioned that he could feel something up there. I freaked out. After a four in the morning visit to Emerge where a nurse calmed me down promised that this happens regularly and that no, I do not in fact have Toxic Shot Syndrome, the doc found my tampon quite a ways up, around a corner. My sister insisted that was the best sex story she ever did hear. 

For years afterwards, I still continued to use O.B tampons until the very end of my Period, because, despite being quite embarrassed having to confess to the nurse about the lost and then stuck tampon, not to mention possible physical issues that could have resulted, still it would have been simply mortifying to have an Period ‘accident’ in public. 

Why are Periods so taboo? Why is a natural part of a woman’s menstrual cycle such an embarrassment? In many religions and cultures throughout the world women can’t participate in religious practices or even everyday customs if they are menstruating. In rural parts of India, women cannot cook when they have their Period because its considered unclean. When I was in Southeast Asia in Thailand I was unable to enter into Temple if I was on my Period. There were even signs posted. In Canada, we may not be told that we can't participate in everyday activities if we have our Period, but we are told to be discrete about it. Every advertisement tells us to keep our Period secret, it's common knowledge that conversations about your Period while being around a male, is uncomfortable and even rude, and that's not even directly discussing it with them. So we invest in expensive and often harmful products (ever question what putting a beached tampon into your down stairs is doing to you in the long run?) to hide our natural cycle when menstruating like a dirty little secret.

I don’t keep track of my cycle. I’ve been alive for twenty-nine years, a good number of those years I’ve been menstruating, and I have no idea if I’m regular not. Now, due to being a long distance runner and having an IUD, I rarely get my Period. Typically I just spot when I do a long, hard run. But, when I was regularly menstruating, I hated having sex during that time of the month. My constant partner(s) insisted they didn’t mind, but I sure did. I just didn’t feel attractive. I felt gross, even. I’m ashamed of my Period. It would be horrific to get it in public. And I think most women would agree with this fear. I know the stigma around my menstruation cycle is bullock which makes it even worse that I participate in ways that keep this stigma going. I like O.B tampons because they’re discrete both in and outside of my body.

Menstruating is very much a natural part of being a woman. Your Period is simply the egg and the lining of your uterus coming out of your vagina. This happens to almost every woman in the world, so why are we so ashamed of a little blood?  If a woman shows a slight more emotions than usual, or even voices her opinion with a less than level tone, then this vocal outrage, this dramatic expression is simply a result of  her PMSing. "Are you on your period, you're being very emotional?" How typical. How insulting. How infuriating. I’m just going to say it and feel free to put me in my place (feminist pun intended), but I don’t think being emotional is a Premenstrual Symptom, I think it’s just an excuse for society to take something directly and distinctly female and actually quite remarkable and twist it into something negative.

In 2015, Kiran Gandhi ran a marathon in London while she was on her Period without using any type of sanitary supplies. She knowingly did this as a way to break the negative stigma around women’s menstruation cycle. When you live with a group of females, their menstruation cycles actually syncs up, which think is actually kind of empowering. If you spend enough time outside, your cycle can sync to the cycle of moon, which is actually kind of beautiful. I know that a woman getting her Period is a very physical demonstration of womanhood, which is actually even more ironic that it’s so shamed; or perhaps given societal views on women and patriarchy, it almost makes sense that there’s so much humiliation when it comes to menstruating. I’m working on being okay with my Period. I'm working on celebrating my cycle rather than shaming it, despite what society is telling me. I think this post is just one more step forward.

Graciously,

Kirstin

 I need feminism because no, I'm not on my period just because I voiced my opinion.