I was painting my nails in my bedroom on Sunday night when my mum came in, insistent that I watch Channel 4’s new drama Consent.
Initially, I was reluctant. It seemed much more severe than my typical choice of TV. But as soon I watched it, I quickly realised how incredibly relevant the show felt to my own experience of being a sixth former in London today — especially in the lead-up to half term, when I’ll be going to parties like the one in the show.
The parallels between the parties I’ve attended in the past and the party depicted in the show were startling: the peer-pressure; the murmuring rude comments made by boys to belitte girls walking past; the porn culture that clouds boys’ minds and leads them to view women as less intelligent and hence take advantage. It was almost too believable — that’s what made it really horrifying. It’s not often as a teenager you see a show that feels that real.
For me, a lot of it was about the characters. The characters in Euphoria and Gossip Girl don’t really feel like the teenagers I see and know, whereas the characters in Consent really did. Particularly troubling for me was the protagonist Archie, a boy who is initially set up as a likeable character — claiming to be different from his misogynistic, arrogant friends; not to like rugby. He appears to us as more genuine. “I would never hurt anyone, ever,” he says.
But the drama shows how even ‘nice guys’ like Archie can fall victim to peer-pressure through things like group chats on WhatsApp (technology means there is no escape these days). In the show, Archie’s lads chat is offensively named #slutsandstuff, with him and his friends tastelessly exchanging pornographic videos and discussing queasy topics like casual rape — a powerful portrayal of how desensitised boys have become.
Obviously, the main focus of the show was the dangers and seriousness of sexual misconduct, but I also think it perfectly portrayed the pressures we face as teenagers today: that boys need to have the confidence to make the first move; and girls need to be attractive enough that boys will make that first move on them. It also accurately shows how many teenagers make decisions based on receiving validation from their friends.
In many ways, these pressures are timeless ones, but the rise of social media, porn culture and toxic misognists like Andrew Tate has only made things worse. You can’t even eat a banana at school these days, it’s become so overtly sexualised. And even if boys don’t believe what they’re saying, snide provoking comments like “she knows what she’s doing” and “girls are so dramatic” and “girls are so sensitive” are common. Boys will say things like: “Sure, the stuff [Andrew Tate] says about women is wrong, but he motivates people to go to the gym, so it’s not all bad”. Obviously it always leads to an argment because girls just tell them to shut up. I find it really unbelievable that people actually take Andrew Tate seriously. He’s so controversial he’s almost cartoonish.
Archie’s denial and self-pity in Consent clearly highlights the lack of sex education surrounding consent in many schools. The phrase “he’s not like that” is a common one among boys accused of committing assaults like the one in the show. I’m fortunate that my school frequently highlights the importance of healthy relationships and the definition of consent. But it’s clear this is not such a common conversation at all schools. According to Ofsted, 59 per cent of girls and young women aged 13-21 say they have experienced sexual harassment at school or college.
So what’s the solution to solving all of this? Greater sex education, definitely. In my experience, there’s still a lack of clarity around the definition of rape so tackling this would certainly help to tackle the problem at its root. A video comparing consenting to sex to consenting to tea has been doing the rounds among my age-group for years, but it’s too light-hearted. Showing films like Consent in schools would definitely be more effective in making the seriousness of the consequences hit home.
Naturally, my mum found the show shocking, but vital. She says it’s helped her to feel she can protect me better as a daughter, and it opened up a conversation between us regarding party culture. It might have been uncomfortable viewing, but it’s certainly helped me to feel free to tell her about any experiences I may have at parties or elsewhere in the future. I’m grateful to the writers for that.
