A Qualitative Examination of Withdrawing Sexual Consent, Sexual Compliance, and Young Women’s Role as Sexual Gatekeepers

Abstract

Introduction: Withdrawing consent for sex may be difficult for young women due to gendered sexual scripts and male persistence. Method: 40 students from Canadian universities (31 women; Mean age = 20.20 years; 75% heterosexual) were asked open-ended questions about sexual experiences and consent; data were analyzed using thematic analysis. Results: Women perceived that: (1) women were responsible for communicating consent, (2) they were unaware it was acceptable to withdraw consent or did not know how to, (3) male partners often persisted in response to withdrawal of consent, and (4) these experiences factored into compliance. Conclusion: Sexual consent education, at least in North America, should increase emphasis on withdrawing consent.

Introduction

Withdrawing sexual consent (i.e., rescinding consent after it was implied or given) may be difficult for young women due to gendered sexual scripts (e.g., belief that women must satisfy men’s sexual needs) and persistence on behalf of their male counterparts (Burkett & Hamilton, 2012; Jozkowski & Peterson, 2013; Jozkowski et al., 2017; Osman, 2003). As a consequence, research shows women are up to 25% more likely than men to engage in sexual compliance (i.e., consenting to and engaging in undesired sexual activity), both in samples in North America (Bay-Cheng & Eliseo-Arras, 2008; Katz & Schneider, 2015; Katz & Tirone, 2010; Muehlenhard et al., 2016; Quinn-Nilas & Kennett, 2018; Shotland & Hunter, 1995; Vannier & O’Sullivan, 2010) and around the world (see Impett & Peplau, 2003). Compliance is linked problematically with negative physical (e.g., sexually transmitted infections; Katz & Tirone, 2009) and psychological outcomes (e.g., emotional discomfort; Hartmann & Crockett, 2016; Katz & Tirone, 2009). To better understand circumstances surrounding sexual compliance, it is worth examining the process of consent withdrawal, as this process has received little attention in the literature. The primary goal of this study was to investigate the nuances of sexual consent in a North American sample to inform sexual consent education aimed at reducing sexual compliance among young adults.

Sexual consent

Definitions of sexual consent vary greatly among legal, academic, and popular domains. In North America, legal definitions suggest that any agreement to sex constitutes consent (Beres, 2007, 2014; McGregor, 1996; West, 1996), as long as the individual agreeing to the sexual behavior is capable (e.g., they are sober, conscious, legal age; Crimes Amendment Act, 2005). Within academic and popular realms, some definitions suggest consent encompasses any agreement to engage in sexual activity (Archard, 1998; Beres, 2007, 2014; Dripps, 1992), whereas other definitions suggest consent can only occur in the absence of coercion or force (Beres, 2007, 2014; Hickman & Muehlenhard, 1999; Humphreys, 2005). Taken together, consent is often broadly understood in North America as a “voluntary, sober, and conscious willingness to engage in a particular sexual behavior with a particular person within a particular context” (Willis & Jozkowski, 2019, p. 1723). However, it should be noted that definitions of consent also vary depending on country and jurisdiction (Beres, 2014). Despite increased social-marketing, activism, and education aimed at improving sexual consent knowledge globally (Beres, 2014; Ibarra, 2019), the process of obtaining and providing sexual consent remains ambiguous (Beres, 2014; Muehlenhard et al., 2016).

According to the literature, sexual consent can be conceptualized as an internal and external process (Jozkowski et al., 2014; Walsh et al., 2019). Internal consent represents personal feelings of willingness to engage in a sexual behavior, and external consent represents the outward expression of agreement to engage in a sexual behavior (Jozkowski et al., 2014; Walsh et al., 2019). External consent can be communicated both verbally (e.g., directly telling/asking a partner they want to engage in a sexual behavior) and non-verbally (e.g., pulling partner closer), as well as implicitly (e.g., making sexually suggestive facial expressions/asking partner if they have a condom) and explicitly (e.g., telling partner “I want to have sex”/physically positioning oneself for sexual intercourse; Beres, 2014; Marcantonio et al., 2018; Muehlenhard et al., 2016). Although explicit, verbal communication may be considered ideal for obtaining and providing external consent, research indicates that implicit, non-verbal communication is most often used (Muehlenhard et al., 2016). Furthermore, how consent is communicated can vary based on socio-cultural context and background. For instance, in some cultural contexts, it may be taboo to communicate openly and explicitly about sex or consent (Levand, 2020).

For the purposes of the current study, it is important to highlight that sexual consent is ongoing and can be withdrawn at any point during sexual interaction. While popular definitions and discussions of sexual consent clearly note that consent can be withdrawn (e.g., Rape Abuse and Incest National Network [RAINN], 2022), the concept and experience of withdrawing consent has received little attention in the academic literature.

Consenting to unwanted sex

Because sexual consent does not necessarily equate with desire but rather an internal willingness to engage in sexual activity, many individuals externally consent to and engage in unwanted and undesired sexual activities (Darden et al., 2019; Katz & Schneider, 2015; Katz & Tirone, 2010; Muehlenhard & Cook, 1988; O’Sullivan & Allgeier, 1998; Peterson & Muehlenhard, 2007). Indeed, sexual compliance is a common experience among sexually active adults in both casual and dating relationships, with prevalence rates typically ranging from 6% to 38% (e.g., Peterson & Muehlenhard, 2007; Shotland & Hunter, 1995). According to a recent study (Katz & Schneider, 2015), 24% of individuals reported consenting to unwanted sexual activities on at least one occasion in a committed relationship, and 31% reported sexual compliance during casual hookups. Although both men and women report engaging in sexual compliance globally (Impett & Peplau, 2003), women in North America appear more likely to engage in sexual compliance compared to male counterparts (Emmers-Sommer, 2016; Impett & Peplau, 2003; O’Sullivan & Allgeier, 1998; Sprecher et al., 1994).

There are several key reasons proposed in North American research for women’s engagement in sexual compliance (Impett & Peplau, 2003; Willis et al., 2022). First, consistent with popular gendered scripts for sexual interactions (Bay-Cheng, 2019; Quinn-Nilas & Kennett, 2018), women may engage in unwanted sexual acts to satisfy their partner because fulfilling the sexual needs of others is frequently understood as a women’s inherent responsibility (Basile, 1999; Bay-Cheng & Eliseo-Arras, 2008; Conroy et al., 2015; Ford, 2021). For example, in sexual interactions between men and women, it is often expected that women will continue with the encounter until their male counterpart achieves sexual climax (Andrejek et al., 2022). In addition to the influence of sexual scripts, many individuals report consenting to unwanted sexual activities to increase partner pleasure and preserve intimacy within their relationships (Conroy et al., 2015; Drouin & Tobin, 2014; Impett & Peplau, 2003; O’Sullivan & Allgeier, 1998; Willis et al., 2022).

Women may also engage in sexual compliance to avoid perceived negative consequences associated with refusal (Ford, 2021; Impett & Peplau, 2003; Pugh & Becker, 2018; Willis et al., 2022). For example, some women comply with sexual activities to avoid upsetting their sexual partner, losing their partner’s interest, or to avoid arguments (Conroy et al., 2015). Furthermore, when an individual experiences sexual coercion in response to their refusal (i.e., persistent verbal or physical pressure to engage in a sexual activity; Pugh & Becker, 2018), they are more likely to comply to bypass negative coercion tactics (e.g., guilt, threat of relationship termination; Katz & Tirone, 2010; Pugh & Becker, 2018). On a related note, given that sexual scripts and popular beliefs purport that men’s sexuality is difficult if not impossible to control (Jeffrey & Barata, 2019), women may believe that any attempts to stop these sexual advances would be futile, thus leading to compliance.

Women as sexual gatekeepers

Sexual script theory posits that people follow internalized “road maps” to guide behaviors within sexual interactions (Gagnon & Simon, 1973; Wiederman, 2005). Sexual scripts specify the qualities, characteristics (e.g., appropriate time, place, sequence of behavior), and objectives of a sexual interaction, thereby reducing anxiety and enhancing predictability within these interactions (Gagnon & Simon, 1973; Wiederman, 2005). Sexual scripts not only inform personal behaviors within sexual interactions but also inform expectations of one’s sexual partner. Although sexual scripts can be considered an overarching guideline for sexual behavior, gender differences in these sexual scripts further inform how men and women behave within sexual interactions (Gagnon & Simon, 1973; Wiederman, 2005)

Women often assume the role of “sexual (consent) gatekeeper” because gendered sexual scripts postulate that men are responsible for pursuing and initiating sexual activity while women are responsible for determining whether sexual activity will actually occur (Edgar & Fitzpatrick, 1993; Hust et al., 2017; Jozkowski & Humphreys, 2014; Jozkowski & Peterson, 2013; Sakaluk et al., 2014). Despite cultural shifts departing from traditional gender roles (Burkett & Hamilton, 2012), traditional sexual scripts remain salient among young adults in North America. Jozkowski and Peterson (2013) found that women indicated they would wait for their male partner to initiate sexual activity before giving indication of their personal level of desire, whereas men indicated they would pursue sexual activity until they perceived outright refusal or a lack of consent from their partner. Jozkowski and colleagues (2017) found additional support for the endorsement of these gendered scripts, such that men were viewed as pursuing and “putting in work” for sex and women were viewed as “owing” sex in return. Overall, women primarily assume the difficult role of refusing unwanted sexual advances from sexual partners (Burkett & Hamilton, 2012; Jozkowski et al., 2017), which may factor into higher rates of sexual compliance (Bay-Cheng & Eliseo-Arras, 2008; Impett & Peplau, 2003; O’Sullivan & Allgeier, 1998; Quinn-Nilas & Kennett, 2018). It is worth noting that traditional gender roles can also emerge in lesbian and gay relationships, albeit not as commonly as in heterosexual relationships (Goldenberg et al., 2016; Marecek et al., 1982). Therefore, although not the focus of the current study, it is possible for gendered sexual scripts to emerge in non-heterosexual relationships, further contributing to experiences of sexual compliance among this population.

Around the world (e.g., Canada, United States, United Kingdom, Australia), gendered sexual scripts are often reinforced in public education campaigns regarding sexual consent (Carmody, 2009). Indeed, sexual consent campaigns frequently emphasize the need for women to be more assertive and concrete in their communication of affirmative consent and non-consent refusals (Beres et al., 2014; Carmody, 2006; Jozkowski & Humphreys, 2014). This approach interestingly reinforces women’s role as sexual consent gatekeeper. Furthermore, it ignores gender imbalances in sexual interactions and assumes women always have the sexual agency and opportunity to voice their consent or non-consent (Burkett & Hamilton, 2012; Fahs et al., 2020; Jozkowski & Peterson, 2013). However, research shows that men sometimes utilize aggressive tactics to indicate personal consent (e.g., pushing their female partner’s head downwards to initiate oral sex; Jozkowski & Peterson, 2013) that are difficult for women to avert (Osman, 2003).

Although sexual consent campaigns emphasize the importance of obtaining and providing clear consent, they often fail to teach effective strategies for seeking or expressing consent (Curtis & Burnett, 2017; Jozkowski & Humphreys, 2014). It is thus not surprising that young adults appear to lack knowledge of how to implement effective consent behaviors (Curtis & Burnett, 2017; Fantasia, 2011; Ortiz, 2019). In addition, these campaigns frequently emphasize initial consent or non-consent, which suggests that consent is static and unchanging (Curtis & Burnett, 2017; Jozkowski & Humphreys, 2014). Indeed, sexually active individuals may not realize consent can be withdrawn after it was implied or given, or they may have limited practical knowledge of effective consent withdrawal behaviors (e.g., communicating personal consent withdrawal or responding to consent withdrawal on behalf of an intimate partner).

Current study

Limited research has closely examined young adults’ negotiations of sexual consent (Burkett & Hamilton, 2012), including conceptualizations, experiences, and practices of withdrawing consent after it was implied or given. Based on the literature, gendered sexual scripts (e.g., men as initiator, women as gatekeeper; Jozkowski et al., 2017), coupled with a lack of general awareness and education regarding consent withdrawal (Curtis & Burnett, 2017; Jozkowski & Humphreys, 2014), may further account for North American women’s higher rates of sexual compliance (Emmers-Sommer, 2016; Impett & Peplau, 2003; O’Sullivan & Allgeier, 1998; Quinn-Nilas & Kennett, 2018; Sprecher et al., 1994). Although previous research has examined generally the role of gendered sexual scripts in initial consent interactions (e.g., Hust et al., 2017), the current study uniquely investigates gendered phenomena regarding consent withdrawal. The current study utilized qualitative interviews with young adults to examine the process of withdrawing sexual consent as it pertained to experiences of sexual compliance in a North American context. In doing so, we also investigated the extent to which gendered sexual scripts were noted in sexual consent experiences.

Method

Participants

Participants included 40 young adults, ages 18–23 years (M_age = 20.20, SD = 1.31) recruited from Eastern Canadian institutions of higher education. The majority of participants identified as women (n = 31), white (77.5%), and heterosexual (75%). Although we were specifically interested in exploring women’s experiences of withdrawing consent and sexual compliance, men (n = 9) were also included in the sample to provide additional contextual information pertaining to gendered sexual scripts and sexual consent experiences. See Table 1 for additional demographic characteristics of the sample. This sample was drawn from a larger sample (N = 520) of participants who were recruited to complete a computerized survey of initial sexual experiences during childhood and adolescence. From the original sample, 255 individuals reported they had engaged in at least one sexual experience prior to the age of 16 (e.g., kissing, hugging, genital touching, oral sex, vaginal/anal sex) and were subsequently invited to participate in an in-person interview regarding their sexual experiences. The age of 16 was used because it is consistent with the average age of initial sexual experiences found in most published studies (e.g., Cavazos-Rehg et al., 2009; Haydon et al., 2012; Magnusson et al., 2015; Ronis & O’Sullivan, 2011; Spriggs & Halpern, 2008) and allowed us to focus on how initial sexual experiences are shaped by conceptualizations of gendered sexual scripts. By examining initial sexual experiences that have yet to be confounded by previous sexual encounters, we can achieve a more precise understanding of the impact of gendered scripts on sexual interactions and subsequent sexual development. The upper age limit of 23 was selected to minimize risk of bias associated with the recall of sexual experiences prior to the age of 16. Of the 255 participants, 194 (86.2%) agreed to participate in an interview and provided their contact information. Forty individuals were randomly selected to participate in the interview process and were contacted between September 2014 and May 2015.

Table 1.

Demographic characteristics.

Characteristics	N	%
Gender
Man	9	22.5
Woman	31	77.5
Race/ethnicity
White/Caucasian	31	77.5
Black/African American	4	10
Asian	1	2.5
Aboriginal/first nations	2	5
Hispanic	1	2.5
East Indian	1	2.5
Sexual orientation
Heterosexual	30	75
Gay/lesbian	2	5
Bisexual	6	15
Unlabelled/questioning/other	2	5

Note. N = 40.

Procedure

Prior to beginning the interview process, research ethics board approval was obtained from the University of New Brunswick (2014-014). Two female Doctoral psychology students, who were thoroughly trained in interviewing skills and ethical procedures, conducted the interviews. The interviewers maintained detailed notes of their progress and met regularly throughout the data collection period to discuss potential concerns and to maintain consistency.

All interviews were scheduled at the participants’ convenience and conducted in the English language. The interviews lasted approximately 1.5 h and were carried out at a private research laboratory or university counseling center. Participants received $40 in exchange for their time. Each interview began with informed consent, followed by the completion of a background questionnaire about the participants’ family, demographic information, and sexual experiences prior to the age of 16. To promote inclusivity, participants were able to specify their gender identity and sexual orientation using an open-ended question. Next, participants were asked open-ended questions about their reported sexual experiences. Interview questions sought to address how these sexual experiences were perceived to affect the participant’s current identity, and how other developmental factors may have shaped conceptualizations of these experiences as well as their individual and interpersonal adjustment in general (e.g., “How did you feel about what happened?,” and “How has this sexual experience had an impact, if at all, on your relationships with others?”). Although specific questions were utilized to gain understanding of the participants’ initial sexual experiences, participants also had the freedom to discuss recent sexual experiences, as well as related thoughts, feelings, or stories. When mentioned by participants, interviewers inquired about broader themes, including sexual consent, communication with sexual partners, and sexual education. Following the completion of the interview, participants had the opportunity to add anything that was not previously discussed but felt was relevant to understanding their experiences. Although interview questions were initially designed to explore broadly the influence of early sexual experiences on identity development and interpersonal adjustment, the current study focused specifically on discussions about sexual consent.

Data analysis

All interviews were recorded and transcribed verbatim, and any identifying information was removed prior to coding. Thematic analysis was conducted with QSR International’s NVivo 10.0 Software, utilizing several coding cycles. Interviews were thematically organized into broad codes (e.g., consent). Initial codes were developed by three researchers who examined the interviews independently, and then collaborated with each other. Excerpts within these broad codes were organized into more specific sub-codes based on topics that emerged in the interviews (e.g., consensual but less than desired, consent withdrawal). As per grounded theory methodology (Corbin & Strauss, 2015), sub-codes were not determined based on a specific numerical threshold (i.e., number of participants reporting a specific theme). Rather, sub-codes were selected if they demonstrated a meaningful variation within the overarching theme and were associated with illustrative quotes. To develop representative thematic categories, each new code was compared to initial codes from previous interviews in a constant comparison process (Corbin & Strauss, 2015). The authors met routinely to ensure the codes sufficiently illustrated topics that emerged in the interviews, and the constant comparison process was continued until saturation was reached (i.e., no new codes yielded from subsequent interviews). For the purposes of this study, participants were given pseudonyms to ensure anonymity.

Results

Participants discussed early and current conceptualizations of consent as well as their experiences of consent during both initial and current sexual experiences. Participants also discussed how their conceptualizations and experiences of consent were shaped by gendered sexual scripts. Although the major focus of the interviews was on experiences prior to the age of 16, reported experiences after the age of 16 were also included in the results. Three important themes emerged from the interviews: (1) engaging in unwanted sexual activities, (2) women as sexual consent gatekeepers, and (3) withdrawing sexual consent.

Engaging in unwanted sexual activities

Participants reported engaging in sexual activities that were consensual but less than desired. For instance, Rebecca, a 19-year-old, heterosexual woman talked about losing her virginity to a man she had just met at a party and explained: “I was really passive about it, it wasn’t really something I wanted to do but I just kinda went along with it.” Rebecca alluded to further sexual compliance when her sexual partner refused to wear a condom: “After a while, I was just gonna keep insisting but then I just got repetitive and he wasn’t listening, so I was just kind of like, well, okay, fine.” A similar experience was reported by Sara, a 19-year-old, heterosexual woman who discussed her first sexual encounter with a man she had only recently met: “I feel like I was really passive, like it wasn’t anything other than agreeance I suppose.”

Beyond indications of sexual compliance during causal sexual encounters, similar experiences were reported in dating relationships. For example, Carol, a 20-year-old, bisexual woman, expressed that she did not enjoy losing her virginity to her boyfriend: “My thoughts during, it was just like, why am I doing this? I don’t want to do this. Like, I knew at the time I didn’t want to do this.” She went on to say that if she could go back to that experience, she would tell herself: “Just don’t do it…bottom line.” Rachel, a 21-year-old, heterosexual woman reported on a similar experience when losing her virginity to her boyfriend: “I definitely wasn’t ready…I definitely wasn’t forced or anything like that, but just uncomfortable and like, maybe if he waited ‘til I was more comfortable with it, then the actual experience would have been more enjoyable.”

Women as sexual consent gatekeepers

A recurring theme that emerged during most interviews regarding sexual consent was that women felt responsible for providing their consent or non-consent to the sexual advances of their male counterparts. More specifically, there was a common assumption that men were responsible for pursuing women, whereas women were responsible for saying yes or no to their advances. For example, Brook, a 22-year-old, bisexual woman stated: “Boys aren’t taught the same things girls are taught, we’re [girls] taught to be afraid…they’re [boys] taught, go get ‘em tiger, she wants to be touched like that…there’s more responsibility on females to say no.” Rebecca echoed a similar sentiment when discussing a recent experience of trying to end a sexual encounter. She explained that: “[even when you say no,] they’re just trying to convince you but then it comes across sometimes as like really pushy. So, then I feel like it’s up to me. Like, if I really don’t want to, to leave, or like, don’t give them a wishy-washy answer, just a yes or a no.” The experiences of women like Brook and Rebecca demonstrate gendered roles within sexually intimate interactions, such that men are the pursuers of sexual activity and women are the gatekeepers, responsible for deciding whether or not they will consent to the sexual advances of their male partners.

Withdrawing sexual consent

Women’s experiences of withdrawing sexual consent

Several women’s consent experiences suggest they may not have known it was acceptable to withdraw consent or that they lacked the confidence and skills to effectively withdraw their consent after it was implied or given. For example, when Carol described the experience of losing her virginity to her boyfriend she stated: “I was just like, ‘I don’t want to do this anymore. Can we stop?’… but I never said it vocally.” Rachel reported on a similar experience of losing her virginity that suggests she did not have the confidence to withdraw her previously implied consent: “I know we talked about it before [having sex] ‘cause he was kind of pressuring me into it ‘cause he had sex before…I came up with a compromise of waiting until my 14th birthday.” Despite no longer wanting to have sex when the time came, Rachel engaged in the activity with her boyfriend on the agreed upon day. When the interviewer asked Rachel whether she felt the experience was consensual, Rachel explained: “I think no and yes. I think it was consensual in the sense that, like, he didn’t force himself on me…I was kind of uncomfortable with it but then it built up to that point…that compromise.” When asked if there was anything she would want to change about the experience, Rachel noted she would have liked to “find the confidence to stand up for [herself],” stating, “to me now, consent is being able to say yes or no.” Rachel’s reported experience suggests that the process of withdrawing consent can occur as part of a long-term pattern of interactions with a sexual partner and may not always be confined to one particular interaction.

Similar to the experiences of Carol and Rachel, Heather, a 20-year-old, heterosexual woman, explained that she did not know how to stop an undesired sexual encounter with her boyfriend after she had already consented: “The opportunity had come up that…he was [going to] finger me…I said it was okay…I just remember leaving and feeling gross.” When asked what Heather would tell a younger version of herself about that experience she stated: “If you don’t feel comfortable, then you’re allowed to pull his hand down and say stop. I think one of the things that made me so uncomfortable was that like, I wasn’t enjoying it, I didn’t like it at the time, but I just let it keep going…because I like, didn’t know how to say no.”

Amber, a 20-year-old, heterosexual woman discussed her lack of confidence in withdrawing sexual consent when she invited a man over to her house and he made a sexual advance: “I didn’t know it was okay to be like, ‘No, I don’t want to do that’…I felt so strange standing up for myself.” As a result of this experience, Amber explained that she now felt it was important to give a “heads-up” about what sexual behaviors she is willing to engage in prior to the initiation of a sexual encounter: “I don’t like that feeling of ‘oh my gosh, how do I stop this?’.” Amber implied that this heads-up approach has the potential to reduce experiences of sexual compliance that may result from not knowing how to say no after a sexual activity was initiated: “I think sometimes if something got started you might either be freaked out or just be like, you know what – maybe it will just be easier to just do it, and then I don’t have to worry about saying no.” Rebecca reflected on a similar lack of confidence in withdrawing consent that resulted in continued engagement in an unwanted sexual activity: “When I think back…I should have been more like serious about [saying no]. Like if I really didn’t want to, just said like ‘no’ and got up and left. But usually if I would say ‘no’ I would always still be like, lying there saying no. I should have got up and started putting my clothes on and just like – left.”

Men’s reactions to women’s sexual consent withdrawal

Although women reported personal difficulty withdrawing sexual consent, an additional challenge of withdrawing consent often emerged from a male partner’s persistence to continue engaging in the sexual behavior. For example, Jenna, an 18-year-old, heterosexual woman, explained: “I feel like that’s something that some [boys] don’t understand…like, if they say no in the middle then that’s taking away consent.” Jenna illustrated this statement by reporting on an experience of one of her female friends: “Her boyfriend was having sex with her and then she said like, that she wanted to just stop or whatever, and he didn’t stop cause I mean, once you say no then there’s no more consent…but that’s something that I feel young people might not understand.”

In addition to direct persistence, men’s belief about women’s sexual role (i.e., fulfilling their sexual needs) appeared to further complicate women’s consent withdrawal experiences. Brook stated that “a lot of boys [she’s] dated [didn’t] understand consent,” explaining that her male partners often assumed they could touch her in whatever way they wanted. When Lindsay, a 19-year-old, bisexual woman, discussed an experience of withdrawing consent a similar sentiment emerged: “I was 16 and he was 18 and we were just kissing on a bed or something in his room and he took my hand and just put my hand on his crotch…I pulled my hand away so fast that I fell off the bed!…His reaction was like, ‘what’s wrong, what’s the big deal?’ I ended up leaving his house not long after that just because I got the feeling like…he was put out.” Lindsay noted that his reaction made her “feel like a tease.”

Some male participants endorsed conceptualizations of consent that suggested they were less familiar with the concept of withdrawing sexual consent. For example, when Kyle, a 20-year-old, bisexual man, was asked how he envisioned the process of consent he responded: “We talked about like, we’re gonna have sex, it is going to happen. After you know ‘x’ criteria has been met, thus we both know we seem on board, yes? And maybe like, conversations don’t need to be had, like, in the moment.” This statement suggests that Kyle views consent as an initial discussion, and once the discussion is had, consent does not need to be revisited. Unfortunately, this conceptualization of consent does not acknowledge that a sexual partner can change their mind and withdraw consent during a sexual encounter.

Men’s persistence and women’s sexual compliance

It can be difficult for women to overcome partners’ persistence when attempting to withdraw their consent. For example, Rebecca described a typical sexual consent experience: “Well, the guy usually wouldn’t ask, but if she said no then mostly that would be a no. There are situations where the guy would just keep saying ‘come on, come on’, and eventually they’d say yes.” In a similar vein, Sara stated: “I just feel like that’s what happens! Whether or not you’re strong headed enough to agree or disagree is the difference.” When women are faced with this persistence, they are likely to have greater difficulty withdrawing their consent. As a result, they may be more likely to engage in sexual compliance. To highlight this pattern of persistence and compliance, Rebecca was asked whether she ever had an experience where she initially consented to a sexual activity but later attempted to withdraw that consent, only to be met with persistence from her partner. In response, Rebecca confirmed such experiences, stating: “Most of like, my first experiences were mostly me saying no and then saying yes at the end or saying yes and then saying no and it still happening.”

Discussion

The purpose of this study was to investigate women’s sexual consent experiences, specifically focusing on sexual consent withdrawal and sexual compliance. Consistent with previous research (e.g., Muehlenhard & Cook, 1988; O’Sullivan & Allgeier, 1998), we found many young adults, particularly young women, describe that their initial and current sexual experiences involved compliance, perhaps resulting from traditional North American society’s gendered sexual scripts on sexual consent negotiations (Burkett & Hamilton, 2012; Quinn-Nilas & Kennett, 2018).

Gendered sexual scripts and sexual consent withdrawal

Implicit societal pressures from reinforcement of gendered sexual scripts appear to complicate consent negotiation experiences. Both women and men in the current sample consistently endorsed traditional sexual scripts, which characterizes men as initiators of sex and women as gatekeepers (Hust et al., 2017; Sakaluk et al., 2014). Furthermore, consistent with heteronormative scripts (Holland et al., 1998), women reported consenting to and engaging in unwanted sexual activities because of a perceived belief that women are responsible for fulfilling men’s sexual needs at the expense of their own. These sexual scripts, often internalized by young women, suggest that if a woman elicits a man’s sexual interest, she must “follow through” and satisfy that interest (Burkett & Hamilton, 2012; Gavey, 2005; Phillips, 2000). These sexual scripts positively regard women who are sexually accommodating (Ford, 2021; Phillips, 2000), especially if they are perceived as sexually suggestive (Burkett & Hamilton, 2012; Gavey, 2005). Women, in turn, may not feel comfortable withdrawing their consent and instead comply with unwanted sexual activities, as these scripts communicate that they should never have started something they were not “willing to finish” (Burkett & Hamilton, 2012; Ford, 2021; Phillips, 2000).

Women who do not want to fulfill so-called prescribed sexual responsibilities risk being viewed negatively. For example, consistent with previous findings (e.g., Meston & O’Sullivan, 2007), women in the current study often reported believing they would be perceived as a sexual “tease” if they prematurely ended a sexual interaction. This belief would further complicate consent withdrawal, as women may fear receiving negative labels for not “following through.” Thus, they may comply with undesired sexual activities to avoid experiencing greater personal conflict associated with prematurely terminating the behavior (Quinn-Nilas & Kennett, 2018).

Men also experience implicit societal pressures to engage in frequent sexual behavior to obtain and preserve their masculine image (Murray, 2018; Sweeney, 2014). Gendered sexual scripts portray men as always interested in and ready for sex (with multiple partners), and their sexual performance is believed to be evidence of their masculinity (Muehlenhard et al., 2016). Men who do not demonstrate and act on this sexual interest risk having their masculinity questioned (Pascoe, 2007; Sweeney, 2014; Wiederman, 2005). The salience of this gendered script was demonstrated in the current study, with both men and women emphasizing men’s role as sexual pursuer who is always “ready for sex.” Unfortunately, men’s drive to achieve a masculine image may lead them to pursue sexual activity when it is undesired by an intimate partner.

Women in the current study noted that, despite attempts to withdraw consent, men would often persist with sexual advances. Because gendered sexual scripts postulate that women must accommodate men’s sexual needs (Ford, 2021; Holland et al., 1998), men may have felt justified to continue with their sexual advances (Jozkowski & Peterson, 2013), even when these women attempted to withdraw their consent. Male partners were reported to either ignore women’s attempts to withdraw consent and physically continue with the sexual behavior or engaged in verbal pressure (e.g., make them feel “guilty”) to continue in sexual acts. Unfortunately, these direct behavioral pressures facilitated women’s engagement in unwanted sex.

Knowledge about sexual consent withdrawal

Results from the current study suggest there is a general lack of knowledge among men and women regarding sexual consent withdrawal. Given recent criticisms that sexual consent education focuses predominantly on initial consent negotiations (Curtis & Burnett, 2017; Jozkowski & Humphreys, 2014), these results are not surprising. Because women are often considered primarily responsible for communicating their consent or non-consent (Carmody, 2006), this lack of knowledge likely factors into experiences of sexual compliance. Specifically, women may continue with unwanted sex as they believe their initial consent is static and unchanging, or they may not know how to effectively withdraw their consent after it was given. Although this lack of knowledge was evident during women’s initial sexual experiences, it also continued into adulthood. For example, Amber explained that even by the time she was 20 years old, she was always on edge during sexual encounters, wondering: “Is this gonna’ go somewhere I don’t want it to? Like, I don’t know how to stop this – I don’t know that it’s okay to say no.”

The belief that consent is a one-time negotiation may further account for men’s persistence in response to women’s attempts to withdraw consent. For example, men may interpret women’s attempt to withdraw consent as an act of token resistance (i.e., saying no but intending to engage in the behavior; Muehlenhard & Rodgers, 1998) and continue with the sexual advance, or they may not afford women an opportunity to revisit consent during the sexual interaction (e.g., fail to “check-in” with sexual partner; Muehlenhard et al., 2016). This is in line with previous research suggesting that men are more likely to consider consent as a one-time event rather than a process that is negotiated throughout a sexual encounter (Jozkowski et al., 2018). It is worth noting that men’s conquest to obtain sex may become more important than obtaining consent (Jozkowski et al., 2017). Thus, some men may understand that consent can be withdrawn, but their conquest overrides their willingness to acknowledge and respect their partner’s withdrawal of consent. These behaviors are problematic for women, as sexual consent campaigns place responsibility on women to be more explicit in their consent communication but fail to acknowledge that women are not always afforded the sexual agency or opportunity to voice consent or non-consent (Burkett & Hamilton, 2012; Carmody, 2006, 2009; Jozkowski & Humphreys, 2014).

Communication style and sexual consent withdrawal

Results illustrate the use of various communication strategies when attempting to withdraw consent. Although women in the current study utilized both verbal and non-verbal communication strategies, neither individually were reported to be effective for withdrawing consent. However, our findings suggest a combination of communication strategies are effective when engaging in consent withdrawal (e.g., verbal explicit/non-verbal explicit). This conclusion is in line with previous research showing that women reported greater levels of internal consent when they or their partner utilized a combination of external consent communication strategies (Willis et al., 2019). Further, recent literature suggests there are gender differences in how men and women communicate and interpret consent (Beres, 2014; Jozkowski et al., 2014; Willis, Hunt et al., 2019). Therefore, men may be attending to incorrect consent withdrawal cues from women, and women may not realize their consent withdrawal cues are going unrecognized by their male partner. Consent withdrawal communication style consequently may factor into experiences of sexual compliance.

Sexual compliance or non-consensual sex?

In some instances, women’s experiences of consenting to unwanted sex occurred in the context of internal and/or external pressure to continue engaging in sexual activities. According to some definitions (e.g., Beres, 2007, 2014), sexual consent cannot occur in the presence of coercion or force. As such, it is possible that some of the experiences described by participants fall within the realm of non-consensual sex. Although participants did not explicitly conceptualize these experiences as non-consensual, it is worth noting that difficulty withdrawing sexual consent due to pressure from a sexual partner has potential implications for non-consensual sex, in addition to sexual compliance. Indeed, persistence in response to consent withdrawal may result in the perpetration of non-consensual sexual acts (e.g., sexual assault).

Implications

Sexual consent education and campaigns often reinforce gendered sexual scripts and place responsibility on women to communicate explicit consent or non-consent (Carmody, 2006; Curtis & Burnett, 2017; Jozkowski & Humphreys, 2014). Consent education should avoid reinforcing these gendered sexual scripts, as they fail to acknowledge gender imbalances in sexual interactions and assume women have the sexual agency to communicate their consent or non-consent (Burkett & Hamilton, 2012; Curtis & Burnett, 2017; Fahs et al., 2020). Consent education could instead emphasize diffusing responsibility among sexual partners, in which each person is expected to engage actively in consent communication (e.g., ask for consent, “check-in”). Diffusion of responsibility may help to attenuate gender imbalances during sexual interactions by affording women the opportunity to communicate their desires and have those desires respected. In turn, this may increase women’s ability to withdraw consent and help reduce experiences of sexual compliance.

Consent education often focuses predominantly on initial consent communication (i.e., obtaining and providing consent at the onset of a sexual interaction). Youth in particular may view consent as a one-time event (Beres, 2014), in which consent withdrawal is an unacceptable behavior. Furthermore, given that education often focuses on initial consent communication, young women and men are not taught communication strategies and behaviors aimed at enacting or responding to consent withdrawal. Overall, sexual consent education should place greater emphasis on the process of withdrawing sexual consent to ensure a mutual understanding between partners that consent can be withdrawn (Curtis & Burnett, 2017). It can be difficult and awkward to prematurely end a conversation or leave a social engagement in general social interactions, let alone sexual interactions. Therefore, in the same way that young adults should be taught how to overtly navigate these general social interactions, they should also be taught how to withdraw personal consent and respond to consent withdrawal from an intimate partner during sexual interactions. Increased knowledge and education regarding consent withdrawal may help decrease sexual compliance.

Recent literature has discussed the importance of including sexual pleasure in comprehensive sexual education (e.g., Mark et al., 2021). By emphasizing pleasure as a sexual right (Coleman et al., 2021), adolescents may be more likely to engage in healthy sexual communication to promote and foster enhanced pleasure in their relationships. Furthermore, integration of sexual pleasure in education may help to attenuate gender imbalances in sexual relationships by promoting gender equality in pleasure (Rollston et al., 2020). This gender equality promotion is especially important because it may empower women to exercise more sexual agency in the pursuit of sexual pleasure, through sexual assertiveness and explicit communication of consent, non-consent, or consent withdrawal (Reis et al., 2021). Although it is possible that women’s assertions of sexual agency threaten men’s sense of masculinity leading to additional coercion and violence, it can be argued that instilling beliefs of gender equality in early childhood sexual education would attenuate these feelings of threat among men in adulthood. In sum, although sexual communication in general can enhance sexual pleasure and emotional intimacy between partners (Mallory et al., 2019; Wilson et al., 2020), communication of sexual consent withdrawal could also be discussed as enhancing or signifying healthy sexual relationships and sexual pleasure. This study offers further support for the inclusion of sexual pleasure in education as a way of promoting ongoing consent communication during sexual encounters.

Limitations and future research

Findings from this study should be considered in light of its limitations. First, because data were not collected with a primary goal of examining sexual consent withdrawal, we may be missing important details regarding these experiences, including the role of gendered sexual scripts, knowledge regarding consent withdrawal, and communication strategies. Indeed, conducting a study that directly examines consent withdrawal may allow for improved depth of understanding of the phenomena of interest. Although interviews did not focus on consent withdrawal in particular, results pertaining to consent withdrawal were prominent, which highlights the need for additional research aimed at examining these experiences. Although “withdrawal” was not always explicitly reported, participants often alluded to situations describing withdrawal of consent. The limited use of the withdrawal label may highlight both a lack of knowledge regarding consent withdrawal among individuals and a need for more research and knowledge translation on this topic. Focusing specifically on withdrawal of consent will allow researchers to gather additional information required to improve sexual consent education. For example, research should seek to focus on the role of communication style in consent withdrawal, as this will inform education aimed at teaching young adults how to engage in effective communication.

Second, various social movements aimed at improving women’s sexual agency (e.g., “#MeToo” movement) were not captured in the current study. Although it is unlikely there has been notable impacts on gendered sexual scripts (Klein et al., 2019), it would be valuable to conduct a study utilizing more recent data, as this could help shed light on possible shifts in education and knowledge regarding consent withdrawal. For example, sexually active individuals may now be more willing to conceptualize consent as a continuous process. In light of social movements like #MeToo, it would be interesting to examine the impact of these movements on consent processes in different socio-cultural contexts, as there are global variations in the adoption and diffusion of such movements (Ibarra, 2019). Furthermore, it would be worthwhile to investigate whether women conceptualize experiences of consent withdrawal as an act of sexual agency and power in sexual relationships, and whether or not there are socio-cultural variations in such conceptualizations.

Third, nuances of the sample may limit generalizability of results. For example, despite the inclusion of sexual minority participants, consent experiences were primarily reported in the context of heterosexual, opposite-sex interactions. Although this further highlights the role of gendered sexual scripts in consent withdrawal and compliance, it should be noted that our findings may not generalize to non-heterosexual partners. Future research should seek to directly examine sexual consent withdrawal and compliance among individuals who identify as sexual minorities to identify potentially unique experiences.

Relatedly, participants may be considered early sexual starters, thus limiting generalizability of findings to those who experience later onset of sexual initiation (e.g., after the age of 16). Moreover, most participants identified as White, and all resided in North America. Although the findings pertaining to sexual consent withdrawal may not generalize to other socio-cultural contexts, rates of sexual compliance globally suggest that this phenomenon likely exists, and would be worth examining, in other socio-cultural contexts. Overall, future research should seek to recruit a more diverse sample with regard to race/ethnicity, geography, and age of sexual initiation to enhance the generalizability of results.

Finally, it is worth acknowledging that both interviewers for this study were female. It is possible that having female interviewers made women more comfortable to discuss their experiences of consent and compliance. It is also possible, however, that men in the sample may have felt less comfortable to discuss their personal experiences of consent, compliance, and/or coercion tactics utilized in sexual interactions for fear of judgment by the female interviewers. Despite this, most of the sample was represented by women, so it is unlikely that the sex and gender identity of the interviewers had notable impact on the data collected in the interviews. Furthermore, a small number of male participants discussed their own personal experiences of non-consensual sex, suggesting there was a level of comfort among male participants that was sufficient for sharing this vulnerable information, despite possible participant-interviewer gender interactions.

Conclusion

Results from the current study highlight the role of gendered sexual scripts in experiences of sexual consent withdrawal and subsequent compliance. In addition, limited knowledge regarding consent withdrawal further accounted for experiences of compliance. This study revealed potential gaps and areas for future directions in sexual consent education, such as a need for greater emphasis on minimizing gendered sexual scripts, consent as an ongoing process, and placing mutual responsibility on multiple partners in negotiating sexual consent. Resulting changes in sexual education may reduce experiences of sexual compliance among adolescents and young adults.

Funding Statement

This manuscript describes original work funded by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada [Grant No. 435-2012-0628].

Ethical approval

Research ethics board approval was obtained from the University of New Brunswick (2014-014). The research presented in this manuscript was conducted in accordance with the ethical guidelines.

IRB statement

This study has been conducted in an ethical and responsible manner and is in full compliance with all relevant codes of experimentation and legislation, including the principles stated in the Declaration of Helsinki. Ethical approval was obtained from the appropriate Institutional Review Board (University of New Brunswick) and written informed consent was obtained from all participants prior to commencement of the study.

Disclosure statement

The authors have no relevant financial or non-financial interests to disclose. The authors have no conflicts of interest to declare that are relevant to the content of this article. All authors certify that they have no affiliations with or involvement in any organization or entity with any financial interest or non-financial interest in the subject matter or materials discussed in this manuscript. The authors have no financial or proprietary interests in any material discussed in this article.