“If you were sleeping beauty, what would you do if a prince kissed you to wake you up?”
In my class of 15 fourth graders, very few respond. They want to know why they have to think about this. I remain patient, allowing them to process my question silently.
After all, their parents kiss them when they’re asleep. Many are forced to hug relatives and strangers because saying no is considered rude in our culture. And, very few of us are taught that there are situations where being touched without consent is not okay.
Most children, in fact, are not aware that they can refuse being touched.
Unlike adults, children don’t have the tools or comfort to communicate child sexual abuse (CSA) easily. They give hints, sometimes subtle, sometimes blatant.
I have seen kids dealing with abuse constantly act up in class, for example, or complain about being sick all the time.
Sometimes the hints are so subtle that most teachers don’t realise something is wrong. For example, if a child flinches when touched, that should be seen as a red flag.
Most people assume it’s a one-time reaction, not checking a second time, or not wondering why a child who never minded a pat on the head is suddenly upset by it.
As an educator, I hold myself responsible for teaching children to protect themselves, and in preventing CSA.
Very young children’s minds are tabula rasas, so teaching them about rights, consent and abuse is not a difficult task. Children learn through repetition, and when it comes to complex topics, constant reinforcement is crucial.
But to do so also requires creative thought that goes beyond any set syllabus. Luckily, the school I work in encourages and values creativity in teachers, allowing me to incorporate awareness for children in my lesson plans.
Hence the question about Sleeping Beauty, a problematic fairy-tale children and teenagers are exposed to repeatedly. Its messages regarding consent and gender roles are detrimental to their well-being, unless analysed critically.
Girls are taught to idealise the princess as passive recipients who yearn to be rescued by a prince, thus reinforcing the principles of patriarchal objectification.
Boys are taught that they can violate consent with impunity. The message hurts both genders. Boys can be, and are, victims of child sex abuse.
So, I ask the class to deconstruct the fairy-tale. “What messages do you get from this story?” works well as a prompt.
Their responses are often imaginative; once, a student said the message is about protecting kings from evil fairies.
Other responses are more disturbing, like students who express joy. “I would thank the prince and marry him for rescuing me,” is a common one.
Its underlying implication, however, is that children have not been taught they have rights, or that their body belongs to them alone. That discussions on consent— in the classroom— are sorely needed.
“What would you do?” the students usually want to know.
My reply surprises them, “Look, if anyone dares to touch me without my consent, then I will beat them up and take them to task for it legally.”
Some students laugh, perhaps out of shock; here is a woman pretending to be a weird kind of Sleeping Beauty who beats up her prince, and has him thrown in jail instead of marrying him!
I’m often asked why I would do such a horrible thing. I then show them this image.