Sexual consent is often intended as straightforward and dichotomous, legally and ethically, a clear “yes” or “no” , a boundary that should be easy to communicate, understand, and respect. Yet, reality can be more nuanced and complicated than that. As discussed by Beres (Beres, 2014), dominant models of consent increasingly emphasize explicit and verbal agreement, often framing consent as something that should be clearly articulated. The idea of “affirmative consent” (Anyadike-Danes et al. 2023), and the consequent expectation that consent should be explicit, verbal, and enthusiastic has therefore become increasingly prominent. While this model plays an important role in promoting safer interactions, it does not fully reflect how people actually experience consent in their everyday lives.

One of the reasons consent is so difficult to navigate is that it is not a single, clearly defined concept. Research identifies multiple ways of understanding consent, including affirmative consent (explicit verbal agreement), behavioral consent (based on actions), and internal willingness (how a person actually feels) (Anyadike-Danes et al. 2023). It is important to note that these dimensions do not always align. A person may outwardly agree while internally feeling unsure, pressured, or unwilling. This highlights how consent is inherently multidimensional and cannot be reduced to a simple yes/no binary (Anyadike-Danes et al. 2023). Earlier work has also emphasized that consent should not be understood as a one-time event, but as an ongoing process, shaped by context and interaction (Alderson and Goodey, 1998).

As part of my internship, I conducted a small qualitative research project exploring how university students in the Netherlands interpret and communicate consent in their everyday dating experiences. The study was based on five semi-structured interviews with participants aged between 22 and 29. Most were Dutch students enrolled in Master’s programs, with one international student and one undergraduate participant. All participants are studying in the Netherlands. Many identified as queer, and all participants were relatively open and comfortable discussing intimacy and personal experiences.

In addition to exploring how consent is communicated and perceived, the research also examined participants’ experiences with sexuality education, whether they felt prepared to navigate intimate relationships with the knowledge they received during school, and what role universities should play in preventing sexual misconduct.

Following feminist research approaches such as those described by Hesse-Biber (Hesse-Biber, 2006), the interviews focused on lived experience and subjective meaning, rather than treating consent as a fixed or purely measurable concept. In particular, the research aimed to explore aspects of participants’ lived experiences that often remain unspoken or under-articulated. In line with this perspective, reflexivity was incorporated into the research process through an awareness of positionality, the power dynamics inherent in the interview setting, and the ways in which the researcher’s presence, assumptions, and framing of questions may have shaped participants’ responses. Rather than aiming for complete objectivity, the research understands knowledge as co-constructed and situated within the interaction between researcher and participant (Hesse-Biber 2006). At the same time, scholars such as Pillow (Pillow, 2003) have critically questioned the role of reflexivity in qualitative research, arguing that it should not be seen as a straightforward solution to issues of bias or power. This highlights the broader methodological debate surrounding reflexivity and its limitations.

One of the most striking findings was that experiences of sexual misconduct were not isolated within the sample. Among the five participants, three women and one LGBTQ+ participant reported direct experiences of sexual misconduct, while another participant shared that their partner had gone through a similar experience. While this is a small and non-representative sample, the recurrence of these experiences within the interviews is noteworthy. Rather than indicating prevalence, it highlights how situations in which consent is not fully respected can be part of individuals’ lived realities.

This also reflects what Walker (Walker, 1997) has argued: consent can sometimes function as a strategy to navigate uncomfortable or difficult situations, rather than a fully free and autonomous choice. In such cases, saying “yes” may be about avoiding conflict, managing expectations, or responding to social pressure rather than expressing a genuine desire. This challenges simplified understandings of consent and highlights the importance of looking beyond verbal agreement alone. Walker (Walker, 1997) therefore addresses a phenomenon that is analytically distinct from sexual assault or rape: consent to unwanted sex. This concept refers to situations in which sexual activity is not genuinely desired by one partner, yet still occurs for reasons such as the desire to please the other person or due to external circumstances that make refusal feel difficult or not possible. Rather than reflecting a lack of ability to say no, these situations often emerge from relational and contextual dynamics in which individuals perceive that refusing is not a viable option: for example, when a partner is already highly aroused or when stopping the interaction feels socially or emotionally constrained. As a consequence, consent may also be interpreted through a gendered lens. As argued by Walker (Walker, 1997), women in particular may consent to unwanted sexual activity due to social pressure, fear of conflict, or internalized expectations to accommodate others. This suggests that consent cannot be understood as a purely individual and neutral act, but must be situated within gendered power relations that shape how comfortable individuals feel expressing or enforcing their boundaries. This also highlights how the ability to give or refuse consent is unevenly distributed, depending on one’s social position and identity. 

It is also interesting to note how, for all participants, these experiences became turning points — moments that reshaped how they understood consent and how they communicated it in future interactions. 

Another key finding was that none of the participants felt they had received sufficient sexuality education to navigate their intimate lives. Sexuality education in Dutch secondary schools was described as primarily focused on biology and reproduction, centered on preventing pregnancy, and sexual consent was not included in their education. No participant reported having received meaningful education on how to communicate consent in practice. In some cases, sexual education was also described as heteronormative, offering limited recognition of diverse identities and experiences.

As a result, participants reported learning about consent through personal experiences, peer conversations, and online platforms. This suggests that consent is something people are expected to navigate without being properly equipped to do so. This finding can be understood in light of existing literature, which highlights that consent is a complex and multidimensional concept encompassing verbal, behavioral, and internal dimensions (Anyadike-Danes et al. 2023). Moreover, consent has been described as an ongoing process rather than a one-time event (Alderson and Goodey 1998), which makes it difficult to address through traditional models of sexual education focused primarily on biological knowledge. At the same time, dominant frameworks of consent do not always reflect how it is experienced in practice, often overlooking its implicit, relational, and context-dependent nature (Beres 2014).

The interviews also revealed that consent is not communicated in the same way across all situations, but is deeply shaped by the type of relationship between individuals. In long-term relationships, participants often described relying more on implicit communication, where consent is understood through familiarity, shared routines, and contextual cues. In more casual encounters, some participants reported relying more on explicit communication due to the lack of shared context. However, this pattern was not consistent. Other participants described the opposite dynamic: in casual encounters, consent was sometimes communicated more implicitly due to discomfort or uncertainty, while long-term relationships were described as spaces where consent could become an explicit and ongoing topic of conversation. Some participants also noted that explicit verbal consent could feel not only natural, but even “nice” or “sexy” within intimate interactions.

These findings resonate with the work of Beres (Beres, 2014), who critiques the idea that consent must always be explicit and verbal to be valid. Consent is often communicated through non-verbal, contextual, and relational cues, and focusing exclusively on explicit verbal consent risks overlooking how people actually navigate intimacy. At the same time, the interviews highlight an important tension: implicit consent can be mutual and meaningful, but explicit refusal can still be ignored, pressured, or negotiated. This reinforces the idea that consent is not simply about how it is communicated, but about whether it is recognized and respected.

The way consent is discussed also varies across social environments. Participants in queer and LGBTQ+ spaces reported more open and explicit conversations about consent, often extending the concept beyond sexual interactions to include touch, boundaries, and even platonic relationships. By contrast, one participant in a heterosexual, all-male friend group described conversations about consent as indirect, implicit, or framed through humor. This suggests that peer culture plays a significant role in shaping how comfortable people feel discussing and practicing consent.

Participants also identified specific environments, such as student associations, sororities, and party settings, where navigating consent becomes more difficult, particularly in the presence of alcohol and strong social dynamics. While most participants felt that sexual education should happen earlier, at the level of secondary school, they also agreed that universities have a responsibility to ensure student safety. However, almost none of them were aware of existing consent-related initiatives within their institutions, highlighting a gap not only in education, but also in communication and visibility.

One of the key insights emerging from this research is that consent should not be understood simply as a rule or a concept, but as a set of interpersonal and relational skills. Practicing consent involves communication, emotional awareness, the ability to navigate ambiguity, and confidence in expressing boundaries. These dimensions reflect the complexity of consent as described in existing literature, which conceptualizes it as a multidimensional construct encompassing internal willingness, behavioral cues, and explicit communication (Anyadike-Danes et al. 2023). Moreover, consent has been described as an ongoing and negotiated process rather than a single, clearly defined moment (Alderson and Goodey 1998). As highlighted by Beres (2014), consent is often communicated through implicit, contextual, and non-verbal cues, further emphasizing the need for skills such as attentiveness and sensitivity to others’ signals. Despite this complexity, such skills are rarely explicitly taught, leaving individuals to develop them informally through experience.

Consent is not as simple as we often assume. It is multidimensional, contextual, and shaped by relationships, social norms, and lived experiences. It is not always explicit, not always clear, and not always easy. Recognizing this complexity does not make consent less important, but it makes it more urgent to understand and teach it properly. Because if consent is a skill, then it is one we need to learn and practice together.

References 

Alderson, Priscilla, and Charles Goodey. 1998. “Theories of Consent.” BMJ 317 (7168): 1313–15. https://doi.org/10.1136/bmj.317.7168.1313.

Anyadike-Danes, N., M. Reynolds, C. Armour, and S. Lagdon. 2023. “Defining and Measuring Sexual Consent within the Context of University Students’ Unwanted and Nonconsensual Sexual Experiences: A Systematic Literature Review.” Trauma, Violence, & Abuse. https://doi.org/10.1177/152483802311XXXX.

Beres, Melanie A. 2014. “‘Spontaneous’ Sexual Consent: An Analysis of Sexual Consent Literature.” Feminism & Psychology 24 (1): 93–108. https://doi.org/10.1177/0959353513507142.

Hesse-Biber, Sharlene Nagy. 2006. Feminist Research Practice: A Primer. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Pillow, Wanda S. 2003. “Confession, Catharsis, or Cure? Rethinking the Uses of Reflexivity as Methodological Power in Qualitative Research.” International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education 16 (2): 175–196.

Walker, Shannon J. 1997. “When ‘No’ Becomes ‘Yes’: Why Girls and Women Consent to Unwanted Sex.” Applied & Preventive Psychology 6 (3): 157–166. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0962-1849(05)80003-0.