What is consent?
Sexual consent is the clear agreement we give to a sexual activity: it lies at the heart of any respectful intimacy, and yet we still talk about it far too little. For it to be real, this consent must bring together four qualities. It is free: given without fear, without pressure, without threat or emotional blackmail. It is informed: each person knows what they are saying yes to, with no lies and nothing hidden. It is enthusiastic: the real question is not “did she say no?” but “did she give a genuine yes?”. And it is revocable: you can change your mind at any moment, including in the middle of a sexual encounter, without having to justify yourself.
Sexual consent is also specific: saying yes to one act does not mean saying yes to everything. Accepting a kiss is no commitment to go further; having consented yesterday creates no obligation today. I want to state one thing from the outset: the absence of a “no” is not a yes. Silence, freezing, fear or alcohol are not forms of agreement. A frozen body is not consenting—it is protecting itself. Understanding this already shifts the focus from coercion toward shared desire.
Consent in a relationship is never assumed
This is one of the most persistent myths: that commitment, marriage or love would grant some “right” to another person’s body. Consent in a relationship is never assumed. Being in a partnership, sharing a bed, having already made love a thousand times: none of this amounts to automatic agreement for the next time. Desire is not a tap that is always running, and every moment of intimacy deserves to be freshly desired, by both people.
Over time, what keeps consent alive is dialogue. Being able to say “not tonight,” “I want to, but differently,” “slow down,” without fearing that you will hurt or disappoint, is part of a healthy sexuality. This is exactly the work I explore in communication within a relationship: naming what we feel defuses pressure and guilt. And when desire isn’t there, it is not a rejection of the other person; it is valuable information about what is happening with sexual desire, which ebbs and flows with life, with tiredness, with the seasons of a relationship.
Asking for and expressing sexual consent, in practice
People often tell me that asking for consent would “ruin the mood.” It’s the opposite: checking that the other person wants this is one of the most erotic things there is, because it creates the safety without which pleasure cannot fully unfold. Asking is not reciting a form; it is staying connected. “Do you like this?”, “do you want us to keep going?”, “does this feel good?” are simple phrases that make a big difference.
Read the signals, not only the words
Consent is also expressed through the body: a movement toward the other person, a smile, hands that invite. But beware—and this is an essential point—a body that stiffens, turns away, freezes or goes silent is not a consenting body, even if it does not say “no.” Learning to notice these signs of discomfort, and to stop and check, is the very heart of respectful intimacy. This is precisely what I explore in episode #3, devoted to consent in practice.
When the body says no before the mind does
Sometimes it is our own body that closes off even though “the mind” would like to. An involuntary contraction, pain, tension can be the way the body voices a no that we could not put into words. Vaginismus is a telling example: it reminds us that consent is not only a matter of willpower, but also of deep listening to oneself. Forcing this bodily no leads nowhere; welcoming it gently, on the other hand, opens a path.
When sexual consent has not been respected
When consent is ignored, bypassed or coerced, we enter the realm of sexual violence. It takes many forms—imposed acts, repeated pressure, manipulation, coercion—and it happens everywhere, including, and often, within a relationship or a family. I want to say this clearly: responsibility for an act of violence never lies with the person who endures it. Neither clothing, nor alcohol, nor having said yes “before” justifies anything whatsoever. Nothing makes violence acceptable.
Its effects are real and lasting: anxiety, post-traumatic stress, feelings of shame or misplaced guilt, sleep problems, difficulty feeling safe in one’s own body. These reactions are not weaknesses: they are normal responses to abnormal events. These dynamics can also take hold insidiously within a relationship: I discuss this with Amal Tahir in episode #39 on toxic dynamics, and episode #50 deals specifically with intimate partner violence. Leaving such a relationship is rarely simple; this is also why the betrayal of trust, in all its forms, leaves marks that take time to heal.
Sexuality after trauma
Sexuality after trauma is possible: it is not a page turned for good, but a terrain we reclaim, at our own pace, with no obligation to reach any particular outcome. After experiencing violence, the body has sometimes learned to cut itself off from sensation in order to protect itself. Healing often means relearning safety before pleasure: regaining the right to say stop, to set one’s limits, to rediscover a touch that is chosen rather than endured.
This path has no imposed timetable. Some people need time before any intimate contact; others move forward in their own way. All of it is valid. Specialized support helps to untangle what the trauma has inscribed in the body: this is the subject of my conversation with Caroline Fierens on post-traumatic sexology (episode #27), and of the one with Lyvia Cairo (episode #58) around a more peaceful sexuality and the resolution of trauma. Their message echoes mine: we do not heal by forcing, but by giving the body, step by step, the chance to feel safe again.
Where to find help
If you recognize your own story in these lines, know that you are not alone and that asking for help is an act of strength, never of weakness. In case of immediate danger, call 17 (police) or 112. The 3919, anonymous and free, listens to and guides victims of violence. Trained professionals—sexologists, psychologists, doctors, specialized organizations—can support you, including on the medico-legal side, an aspect I explore with Pauline Jorda in episode #86.
Putting it into words, being believed, being supported: this is often the first step toward healing. Whether you are directly concerned, or you are supporting a loved one, consent is also cultivated through knowledge and dialogue. Learning, talking about it, daring to seek help: all of this contributes to a freer and safer intimacy, for yourself and for others.
Frequently asked questions
What is consent?
Consent is the agreement given to a sexual activity. To be valid, it must be free (without pressure or fear), informed (with full knowledge of the situation), enthusiastic (a genuine yes, not merely the absence of a no) and revocable (you can change your mind at any time). It is also specific: saying yes to one act does not commit you to others.
Is consent necessary within a relationship?
Yes, absolutely. Consent in a relationship is never assumed. Commitment, marriage or a long relationship do not amount to automatic agreement. Every moment of intimacy deserves to be freshly desired by both people, and each person keeps the right to say no.
Does the absence of a “no” count as consent?
No. Silence, passivity, freezing, fear or alcohol are not forms of agreement. A frozen or paralyzed body is protecting itself; it is not consenting. Consent is a clear, free and enthusiastic yes: it is its presence, not the absence of a refusal, that counts.
How do you heal after sexual trauma?
Sexuality after trauma is reclaimed at your own pace, with no obligation to reach a particular outcome. Healing often means regaining safety before pleasure: relearning how to set your limits, to say stop, to choose touch. Specialized support in post-traumatic sexology helps to untangle what the trauma has inscribed in the body.
What should you do if you are a victim of sexual violence?
You are not responsible for what you have endured, and asking for help is a strength. In case of immediate danger, call 17 or 112. The 3919, free and anonymous, listens and guides. Trained professionals—sexologists, psychologists, organizations—can support you step by step.
Does asking for consent ruin the mood?
On the contrary. Checking that the other person wants this creates the safety without which pleasure cannot unfold. Asking “do you like this?” or “do you want us to keep going?” and reading the body’s signals is part of a respectful and, often, more erotic intimacy.