No.

By Mallory McPherson-Wehan

Late in my freshman year, I was at a fraternity party on a random Friday night. I spent the good part of an hour talking to a boy my age who was friendly and engaging but who I had little intention of going home with. I wasn’t drinking because I had work early in the morning, and while he was drinking, it didn’t seem to be hindering our conversation. After an hour or so, I told him that I was heading home because I had an opening shift at work in the morning. When he offered to walk me home, I didn’t think much of it. The walk was less than 8 minutes, but somehow in that time he invited me back to his dorm multiple times. I kept changing the topic or ignoring his invitations, but I never explicitly said no. He said he had leftover banana bread in his room, that he wanted to show me a poster on his wall, that he wanted to get to know me better, all things I knew were not his real intentions. Even though I knew this night would probably not end with me eating banana bread, admiring a poster or telling him more about myself, I gave in to his pestering and started walking with him to his dorm. When we got there, he didn’t have any banana bread (surprise!) and I don’t even remember if there were posters on the wall. My freshman brain thought that the only way for me to get out of this situation, one that I definitely got myself into, was to sleep with him. So that’s exactly what I did. We had sex, something that I honestly don’t think he was even expecting from me, and then I got dressed and ran back to my dorm, feeling dirty and drained.

What really got me thinking about this experience was an article in the New York Times written by Jessica Bennett called “When Saying ‘Yes’ is Easier than Saying ‘No.’” In her article, she writes that “for years, my female friends and I have spoken, with knowing nods, about a sexual interaction we call ‘the place of no return.’ It is a kind of sexual nuance that most women instinctively understand: the situation you thought you wanted, or maybe you actually never wanted, but somehow here you are and it’s happening and you desperately want out, but you know that at this point exiting the situation would be more difficult than simply lying there and waiting for it to be over. In other words: saying yes when we really mean no.” Bennett’s article reminded me of this unpleasant freshman year experience. Until recently, I hadn’t thought about that night. It was consensual by conventional terminology and as far as I could tell, this guy had little reason to think I wasn’t into it to at least to some degree, apart from my less-than-enthusiastic responses on the walk home. In retrospect, it strikes me how many clear opportunities I had to say no to this guy, to have the night I wanted. I could have said no when he offered to walk me home. I could have said no to his persistent invitations to go home with him. I could have said no when we got back to his dorm. I could have said no to every physical advance and I could have said no, especially, to sex. There were five clear opportunities, plus a million more, where I could have said no. Why didn’t I say no?

This question haunts me. It wasn’t the specific event that traumatized me. I was never concerned about assault with this guy, though maybe that was naive. I gave him what he wanted, so I didn’t feel like I had to worry. The part that haunts me is not the experience itself, even though it was unpleasant, but the fact that I didn’t want to do it yet let it happen anyway. I keep asking myself what stopped me from saying no. Was it feeling like I owed him something for walking me home? Did I want to avoid disappointing him? Did some part of me want the affirmation that he was into me?

It pains me to write in such passive terms about myself, as if I was just a bystander watching my night get ruined. I could have said something. I could have done something. But I didn’t. My discomfort and passivity were self-imposed. How can I be such a strong, independent, outspoken woman in every other part of my life but incapable of telling one guy, whom I had never met before, that I didn’t want to go back to his dorm?

When I told my mom about this situation a few weeks ago, she brought up how women are socialized to keep the peace and avoid conflict, to not disappoint others. We are enculturated to deal with pain and discomfort privately rather than burden others with our feelings. Too often the result of this socialization is women internalizing their feelings or needs to avoid inconveniencing others. The wants and needs of others are put before our own. Unfortunately, this is not always exclusive to our sex lives but pervades our jobs and friendships as well. She observed from my story that I probably went along with everything so I wouldn’t create conflict, resulting in less social discomfort. I definitely think there is an element of truth to that. I remember thinking on the walk to my dorm that it would be so much easier to just have sex with him than to say no. The idea that walking back to his dorm to have unpleasant sex is worth avoiding the few seconds of possibly uncomfortable conversation is unbelievable. I remember thinking that I can deal with the emotional part of it later if I can just get through the physical part.

I’ve told this story to multiple women over the last few weeks because I wanted to see if my actions were unique. Turns out they aren’t. Almost every person I’ve talked to has told me a similar story of going through an unpleasant or unwanted encounter to avoid creating conflict or saying no. So what’s the answer? How do we help women understand that creating conflict, upsetting the peace and, most importantly, advocating for themselves are vital elements of being an autonomous human being?

I wish I could go back and tell freshman-year Mallory that she doesn’t have to have sex with a guy to avoid an unpleasant situation. I wish I could tell her that saying no is okay. As a recent college graduate, I’ve been contemplating how to make an impact on all of these young girls who go into college completely unaware of the culture and pressure on them, especially freshman year when the world already feels so lonely yet they’re trying to act so grown-up. It is crazy how one word could have changed my whole night, but I was too afraid, too uncomfortable, too worried to say it. It’s easy to tell women to advocate for themselves or just say no, but how do you really get them to feel that power and use it, with confidence? I still haven’t found a solution to this problem and am unsure if there is a simple one. My mother’s first reaction upon hearing this story was that I needed to share it as widely as possible so others could learn from me. But I’m not sure that is enough. I think we need to talk about why we don’t say no and the consequences that result from men not learning what our silence means. This article by Jaclyn Friedman is a great start. She talks about the importance of comprehensive sexual education, affirmative and enthusiastic consent, and teaching girls that sex is supposed to be pleasurable. Those are all great resources and tools we can use to help equip the next generation of girls with the power to advocate for themselves. This article by Peggy Orenstein is also an eye-opening look into affirmative consent and how boys are taught that aggression and strength is what girls want. The fascinating book Missoula, by Jon Krakauer, describes many incidents where women might have said no but chose to “get through it” and then escape the situation to deal with the pain on their own.

I debated whether or not to write this piece for a long time because it is really personal and I felt there were already so many similar stories out there. I didn’t want to add to the noise. But the more I talked to other women, the more I realized that solidarity and progress come from sharing our stories, realizing none of us is alone. There are many inspirational quotes and girl-power mantras I would love to end with, but I think the solution is less motivational and more practical. We need to talk about sex, pleasure, consent, and discomfort. We need to have raw, uncomfortable, vulnerable conversations to help create a world where my story would be a rarity.