Betty Martin has made a name for herself internationally teaching a framework she calls The Wheel of Consent. Lord knows, the world needs this teaching. Consent would seem to be a simple proposition, right? Ask for permission, wait for an enthusiastic yes, be willing to take no for an answer. Any mature adult should be able to follow those simple instructions. But as we know, that’s easier said than done. Consent and boundaries can get murky really fast, if we’re not willing to be honest with ourselves about what we really want or if we’re not careful listeners or if we’re so sure we know what someone else wants or needs that we don’t even bother to stop and ask.
Martin originally got her inspiration from “The Three-Minute Game” devised by Harry Faddis, a faculty member for the Body Electric School. Intended to give people practice at establishing boundaries and obtaining consent, it operates on the simple premise of taking turns. I ask, “How would you like me to touch you for three minutes for your pleasure?” and “How would you like to touch me for three minutes for your please?” Then it’s your turn to ask me those simple questions. The limited duration is extremely important; set a timer! “For your pleasure” is also essential. What could go wrong?
Ha! Lots! As Martin set about analyzing the three-minute game and devising The Wheel of Consent, she accumulated enough nuance to fill a 400-page book called The Art of Receiving and Giving. Her analysis takes into account some unexamined assumptions we have about consent and boundaries, especially in the realm of sex, relationships, and erotic play. We are largely socialized to consider that ideally sex is a magical merging of souls where mutual reciprocal pleasure emerges from the sheer joy of being together in love or lust. Once upon a time “simultaneous orgasm” was seen not only as a goal but as a measurement of good sex or true connection. For the most part we’ve put that myth to rest, but there is still a persistent sense that 1) talking about sex spoils it and 2) taking turns is a boring, mechanical substitute for shared erotic ecstasy.
But in my experience and observation, not talking is a recipe for unsatisfying sex. We go into encounters expecting our partners to know what we want and vice versa, and/or we assume that everybody wants the same thing. So we spend a lot of time trying to read each other’s minds, which is exhausting and frustrating. And then I’m so busy giving you what I imagine you want, and you’re so busy giving me what you imagine I want, that nobody is actually receiving much of what’s being offered.
Martin’s Wheel of Consent breaks the whole concept of giving and receiving into four quadrants to clarify who is doing what and for whose benefit.
At any given moment, you are either doing or being done-to, and you’re either giving or receiving. Martin’s astute innovation is to distinguish giving and receiving from taking and allowing. When you respond to something someone specifically asks for and for their benefit, you are giving; if you’re doing something to or with them for your own benefit, you are taking. This wording is somewhat controversial – again, we are socialized to believe that “taking” is bad, it's theft. Martin provides a different perspective that is at the heart of consent – taking is fine if there is consent; otherwise, it is tantamount to stealing (or abuse). But consent does not mean giving someone anything they ask for, and that’s where other unexamined social constraints factor in. Many of us – not just women, but I will say especially women – are trained that it’s bad to say no, it’s ungenerous, it’s unkind, it’s rejecting. So we often go along with things we don’t really want, in order to be polite. It’s easy to ask for what we think we can get, or what we sense someone else wants to give, and it’s also easy to fall into the habit of giving what WE want to give rather than asking, lest they ask for something we don’t want to give, which then turns into an awkward negotiation.
One of the best things about Martin’s teaching is her relentless encouragement…not just encouragement, instruction to determine what you would like, as specifically and honestly as possible. As she puts it, “As we learn to notice what we want, to trust it, value it and communicate it, the experience of receiving opens up into a rich, deep, gorgeous landscape. Not because we get better at going along but because we get better at requesting exactly what we want. This taught me that receiving is inherently wonderful. If it’s not wonderful, it’s not because you’re not a ‘good receiver.’ It’s because it’s not the thing you want.”
I confess that I found reading the book challenging at times because of the sheer amount of repetition of the same words and phrases – taking, allowing, receiving, accepting, quadrants this and quadrants that. BUT it is an instruction manual that breaks down each concept into incremental parts so there is necessarily a lot of repetition. And as Martin says, the understanding comes not from reading about the theory but by practice. And I can testify that that’s true. My husband and I have been together for 14 years, and yet even the first couple of times I tried out Martin’s method of carefully separating “what would you like?” and “who is this for?” I discovered that I don’t instinctively know everything he wants. I got some requests that surprised me and that delighted both of us to fulfill.
I’ve come to believe that the model that Martin outlines in The Art of Receiving and Giving is nothing less than a new paradigm for sex, one that prioritizes respect, playfulness, courage, and pleasure. “Consent” is a funny word – it has a legalistic ring to it, and it can seem dry and binary. With great patience and clarity, Martin turns it into a rich and nuanced landscape beyond simple yes and no. She mentions in passing that ultimately the work is about agreement, and she wishes that she had called it The Wheel of Agreement.
As she summarizes, “Based on working with the Wheel of Consent, I have come to see consent skills as:
· Noticing what you want, asking for it, and abiding by the answer
· Noticing the difference between what you want and what you are willing to give and communicating that
· Finding out what the other person wants and what the other person is okay with and distinguishing between those two
· Abiding by your agreement even when things move quickly or get exciting
· Being able to abide by someone’s no or limits
· Being able to change your mind and make room for the other person to change theirs.”
Martin’s book and her teachings about consent, boundaries, and agreement don’t just apply to intimate erotic encounters. There are wider spiritual implications:
“Receiving (both Accepting and taking) teaches us that we humans need each other, that we are not self-sufficient. It tends to crack our hearts open and teaches us we are worth as we are.
Giving (both Serving and Allowing) teaches us how to set aside what we want, which is part of maturity. It tends to be both humbling and affirming.
The Taking Quadrant teaches us to take responsibility for what we want to do, and that leads to integrity.
The Allowing Quadrant teaches us to take responsibility for our limits, teaches us that we ourselves can be the gift, and gives us a taste of surrender.
The Accepting Quadrant gives us a physical experience of our own worthiness and engenders gratitude.
The Serving Quadrant teaches us generosity, how to take action for the benefit of others, and to respect their choices about how they use our gifts.”
I’m giving you the TL/DR digest of The Art of Receiving and Giving, but touch professionals will find this to be a valuable reference volume, as would anyone hungry for tools to create better, more satisfying, consensual relationships.