Tell me No
CN: sexual coercion/assault, no graphic details, click here to skip past.
When I was 20, I started dating someone who I had been friends with for a while. We were young and it was fun, even if we knew it was not going to be a long relationship. Although we were compatible in many ways, he had a higher sex drive and wanted it more than me.
As someone who is asexual, this was not surprising to me and I felt comfortable telling him when I didn’t want sex. However, what did surprise me was how irritated he was when I told him no, pushing me to comply. I remember feeling confused because this person was in the same social justice/ anti-violence/ anti-colonialism circles as me. I thought we were on the same page.
As he became increasingly annoyed at me, I remember coming to the realization and expressing to him that it is a good thing I am telling him no because it means I feel comfortable with him. I suppose this explanation was insufficient as he continued to pressure me, the power dynamics became progressively unbalanced, and I forgot the insightful realization. Over time, I became fearful of saying no.
So, I said yes. I said yes to everything. Even when I was scared, even when I was crying, even when I knew I absolutely did not want to, I said yes.
I remember at the time, a local sexual assault centre had a campaign that said, “Yes means yes.” I remember feeling so alone as I tried to convince myself that this was okay, that I am consenting and this is normal. I told myself, people do things that we don’t want to do all the time and I did say yes after all even if that yes was more like an uh, sure, if that means you won’t get upset at me.
In truth, I was afraid of the repercussions of saying no.
Fortunately, with the support of others, I was able to unlearn this fear and regain the confidence in my no. Fortunately, I was able to recall that realization and integrate it back into my life.
(If this story was activating, click here for some resources.)
I love when people tell me no.
As your friend, I am so happy and relieved when you cancel on me if you’re tired or at capacity. Any disappointment I might feel is only fleeting because I know you are actively choosing to care for yourself. Thank you for tending to someone I love so dearly.
As your counsellor, I truly appreciate when you disagree with me or tell me I’m off base. To me, that means you trust me enough to tell me your truth. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to understand you better.
Any time I hear no, I feel glad knowing you feel safe enough with me to say so. A no is an honour. A no is a point of connection. A no is a relationship green flag. I welcome your no with a heart full of gratitude.
I embrace your no because I never want you to feel afraid of or guilty for telling me.
I love a no because when someone says yes, they can mean it.
Tell me yes because you want to
I invite no’s so openly because I want you to feel good when you say yes. I want your yes’s to be enthusiastic and joyful and grounded and nourishing. I want us to celebrate yes’s together. I want our yes’s to be upheld with love and excitement.
That’s a lot more difficult to do if your yes’s are forced. A yes without the option of saying no is not consent.
If you feel comfortable saying no to spending time together, I know that when we do get to connect again, it will be because you want to. And what a gift that is. Knowing you feel at ease telling me no, I don’t take it for granted when you do tell me yes.
Tell me no, because I want you to genuinely mean it when you say yes.
Beyond individual
I would be telling an incomplete story if I merely spoke to interpersonal violence as the root to why saying no can be difficult.
Colonialism, capitalism, and white supremacy rob our ability to say no because the consequence may be death. This struggle is particularly amplified during the pandemic. The systems we live in pressure us to say yes. Yes to worker exploitation, yes to racist institutional demands, yes to disconnection from ourselves and all of life. Even if that yes is more like an uh, sure, if that means I can survive.
The oppressive systems we live in want us to be detached from our bodily yes’s and no’s because it becomes easier to extract from us.
This means the ability and safety to say no isn’t simply an issue between individuals. Rather, it is also a community endeavour to support each others’ no’s. If a community member can’t say no to an extra shift at work because they won’t make rent, how can we hold them up? Collectively, we can participate in material mutual aid, fight for housing security and workers’ rights, and work to dismantle the systems that create such precarious conditions in the first place.
Mia Mingus, disability justice advocate, reminds us of our interdependence, confronting the myth of capitalist individualism by pointing us towards communities of care and liberatory access. That is, accessibility that bolsters justice, love, and meaningful relationships. To me, this includes access to saying no when we mean no and yes when we want to say yes. Disability justice, interdependence, and liberatory access necessarily contribute to our ability to truly say yes or no.
We must also examine how bodily consent, gendered violence, settler colonialism, land extraction, and Indigenous sovereignty are profoundly intertwined. Indigenous land as body and body as land such that the violence and exploitation of one is inseparable from that of the other. Colonizers and capitalists regard and treat both as objects to dominate and resources to extract. (Read more here.)
However, Indigenous Peoples are not passive recipients of colonial subjugation and cruelty, saying no and denying colonial authority since first European contact. For example, Audra Simpson describes the refusal of the Mohawk Nation to heed to the imposition of the settler colonial Canadian state, its borders, and its definitions of community belonging. The Wet'suwet'en reject colonial law and the intrusion of gas pipelines through their sovereign homelands.
These too are no’s we must uplift and support. Particularly for those of us who are settler occupiers, we must uphold Indigenous sovereignty and land defenders. We must support Indigenous liberation.
Thus, no’s are not only individual assertions, but also collective responsibilities.
An offering
As I write this, I feel emotional. I feel tears collecting as I hold (human and nonhuman) people in my heart. People who have been assaulted. People who feel trapped. People who are exploited. People who feel alone or at lost or disappeared. People who are facing violence for maintaining sovereignty. People who struggle to know the difference between their own yes’s and no’s.
To everyone, if you wish to receive, I send out these hopes:
May you have at least one person in your life that you can be honest with your no’s and say your yes’s with their whole self.
May you be upheld as you tell oppressive forces no.
May you lean into your power to support others’ yes’s and no’s.
May you have the opportunity to deeply experience in your body what an authentic, wholehearted yes feels like for you.
May you cradle your yes’s and your no’s, allowing them to develop strength in voice.
May your spirit rejoice when you honour your yes’s and no’s.
Love,
Macayla
Thank you for trusting me with your no.
Vancouver Island Crisis Line
KUU-US Indigenous Crisis Line
Victoria Sexual Assault Centre Service Access Line
WAVAW Rape Crisis Centre
*not a comprehensive list, and BC-based*
