Well, America, THANKS. Thanks ever so much for having your act together to the point that I've had to have lengthy conversations about consent with my 12-year old. I was pretty excited about that, let me tell you. I was especially excited because you, America, have given her the impression that consent isn't important. Making sure boys aren't wrongly accused of something SUPER is, though. Why is their reputation more important than her safety? HELL IF I KNOW.
By the way, she wasn't willing to accept that as an answer. She had MORE questions.
So, there's two things that I ended up saying. Take it or leave it, America, because it's the best I've got right now.
1. Drunk people can't consent. Ever. EVER EVER EVER. So, like if one of your friends is drunk, you are obligated to step in and help becauase ain't no way we can trust a boy to make that determination. And if he's drunk? ALSO UNABLE TO CONSENT.
This realization has led me to feel like a poopsicle about some things that happened when I was in high school, for the record. Alexis heard all about how there was this girl who everyone knew would "consent" just as long as she was drunk enough. She was such a whore ... except, NOT! Because it's not consent! If I knew how to get in touch with her, I would probably apologize because I've now realized I participated in rape culture by calling her a whore and blaming her for the fact that guys were perfectly happy to shove alcohol down her throat so they could chase her inhibitions away.
Jerks.
If they didn't want accused of being jerks, maybe the guys shouldn't have been at parties handing out drinks. Ahem.
2. No is a really powerful word and you're going to have to use it very bluntly. Silence is apparently to be considered "consent," so you can't be quiet. You have to scream, "NO!" at the top of your lungs. If he doesn't stop when the magic word is screamed, then by all means, my girls have permission to go all Lorena Bobbitt on the situation. This strategy may not work in the long-term, but for as long as they're minors, I'll figure out how to help them. Boys, be warned. You can never be sure if pulling your little friend out is going to be met with a knife.
Consent to that, jerks.
(I seriously don't know how to talk to my girls about all of this. DAMMIT, AMERICA.)