Why do some women struggle to say no to unwanted touch? My reflections on a lifetime of boundary violations – from forced childhood hugs to ignored sexual boundaries – and how early experiences teach us our bodies aren’t our own. If you’ve ever felt unable to protect your boundaries, you’re not alone.

There’s a world of difference between wanted and unwanted touch. I know what consensual touch feels like. His penis was resting gently on top of my labia. My vulva was throbbing as his belly touched mine. Our breathing synced. He leaned in to kiss me and asked softly, “You okay?” I responded YES, then he slowly penetrated me. That was consent. Simple, direct, and clear.

Consent has a feeling. So does violation. I’ve also lived through the other side, moments when my body became someone else’s playground without my permission. Like when I was in doggy style with my boyfriend. What started as consensual intimacy shifted when he started doing things I hadn’t agreed to. In that moment, I verbally said NO and pulled my body away. I felt the familiar knot in my stomach, the recognition that my boundaries had been crossed. 

Then there was another boyfriend who showed me how consent can disappear mid-intimacy. He outright ignored my requests to be gentle with my breasts. He insisted on pinching and grabbing despite my protests, dismissing me with “You’re fine. I’m barely touching you.” When I told him it hurt, he insisted he wasn’t touching hard or that I was “too sensitive.” We dated for a few years and, eventually, I asked him to stop touching my breasts entirely. During intimacy, I would physically hold them so he couldn’t reach them. My body became a fortress protecting itself. In hindsight, I see how my body started shutting down because I rarely felt safe that he would respect my boundaries. I was performing pleasure (mostly to please him) while my nervous system screamed danger.

American Culture Normalizes Violation 

These personal experiences didn’t happen in a vacuum. Watching the Epstein files unfold recently made me think about how these violations connect to something much bigger.

When I see men like Bill Clinton, Clarence Thomas, Donald Trump, and Epstein—what do they have in common? Using and violating women. Powerful men establish this pattern, which seeps into society. Through their role modeling, non-consensual touch gets normalized. Sadly, despite their violations, these men still rose to positions of power and fame, discarding their victims along the way. How can we live in a society that responds with “well, that’s just how it is“? 

The devastating reality is that women have to bear, to varying degrees, becoming victims of non-consensual touching and/or gawking. Women are shamed to accept unwanted stares and touch. Then, non-consensual touch becomes normalized, thereby creating murky waters for women of all ages to navigate. Women suffer. Rape culture becomes normalized. 

This cultural backdrop explains why I learned to override my body’s signals so early. Looking back over my life, I can trace exactly when I started tolerating violations. I was trained to override my body to give others what they wanted. What would happen if I stopped doing that? There’s a lot to be revealed when I examine how my needs went unmet because I was constantly tending to everyone else’s comfort.

Looking Back: When the Violations Began

Age 5: “Go hug your great uncle. Give neighbor Brenda a kiss.”  I was repeatedly forced to hug and kiss people I didn’t know or like—such an “innocent” but all too common scenario.

Age 10: I got what they called spankings, but honestly, they were beatings. My skin turned black and blue. I don’t even remember why I got “spankings,” but my body learned early that others had the right to inflict pain on me if I didn’t follow their rules. Now it makes sense why I ultimately became the agreeable, people-pleasing, good girl.

Age 12: I was wearing my favorite red pants with a thin pinstripe. I was in my grandparents’ room, leaning on the bed on my knees, when my grandfather put his hand between my legs. I remember the confusion and the unwanted excitement of that moment. To this day, I have to fight the twisted logic I learned as a child, that somehow I was responsible for an adult’s choice to violate me.

For years, I carried the shame of that moment, convinced somehow that my 12-year-old self had invited violation. It’s taken decades to understand that children cannot consent to sexual touch, period. The confusion I felt was normal; the guilt was learned.

​​Not everyone experiences sexual abuse, but most women experience some form of boundary violation that reinforces and teaches the lesson that your comfort doesn’t matter.

Age 8-47: People have loved my hair and always felt inclined to touch it without asking. They just lunge forward, drawn to its texture and beauty.  I grew up in predominantly white environments, so starting in second grade, girls touched my hair barrettes and ribbons. In middle school and high school, people marveled at my hair. My college friends would run their fingers through my hair. Even in professional settings, the theme carried as colleagues always commented on my hairstyles and walked close to inspect my hairstyles. 

I focus on hair touching because it shows how violation gets normalized in ‘innocent’ ways. If strangers feel entitled to touch your hair, imagine what they feel entitled to in more intimate settings.

One day in Mexico, a woman approached me, marveling, “Is your hair real? It’s so beautiful!” Then she reached out. I said, “No, thank you, but you can look at it.” Another time, as I was walking out of the ocean, a woman was so amazed by my wet hair that she reached out to touch it. “Please don’t touch my hair,” I said firmly. 

What I’d Tell My Younger Self

Each non-consensual touch (sexual or not) disconnected me further from my body and my power. A lifetime of unwanted touches reinforced the message that my body was public property. That my “NO” was a suggestion, not a boundary. I was made to feel like my body didn’t belong to me, that others had priority to touch, treat, and interact with my body however they wanted. Over time, I began to disconnect from and disapprove of myself. I never really felt at home in my body until very recently.

Learning to reclaim my body and say no to unwanted touch taught me to say no in other areas of life. For example, NO to working late when I needed rest, to taking on everyone else’s emotional labor, to performing pleasure I didn’t feel.

What I know now that I wish I could tell my younger self:

1. Your body belongs to YOU. Not to relatives who think family means unlimited access. Not to partners who believe desire gives them the right to ignore your boundaries. Not to strangers who feel entitled to touch any part of you because it’s fascinating.
2. You have the right to say NO and you don’t have to explain yourself. Every NO is a reclamation of your body and your power. Every time I said no to unwanted hair touching, I was practicing sovereignty. When I pulled away during sex that turned non-consensual, I was honoring my body’s wisdom. When I protected my breasts from rough hands, I was learning that my comfort matters more than someone else’s pleasure and satisfaction.
3. Trust that feeling in your stomach when someone crosses a line. Your body is always telling you the truth, even when your mind tries to rationalize the violation away. Your boundaries aren’t suggestions. They’re requirements. Anyone who argues with them, minimizes them, or tries to negotiate them is showing you exactly who they are. Believe yourself.

Learning these lessons transformed my relationship with pleasure. When I stopped overriding my body’s signals about unwanted touch, I could finally hear what it wanted.

If you’re reading this feeling disconnected from your body or your pleasure, reflect on where in your life you are still saying yes when your body wants to say no. Tuning into your body’s NO could also be your roadmap back to authentic desire.

Reclaiming My Body, Reclaiming My Power

Learning to say NO has been my path back to my body. Every boundary I enforce teaches my nervous system that I can be trusted to protect myself. Every time I choose my comfort over someone else’s convenience, I practice radical self-love.

In a culture that normalizes violation from the highest levels of power down to everyday interactions, reclaiming your body is a revolutionary act. Every NO counts. Boundaries aren’t negotiable. Your body is yours. And you get to decide who touches it, how, and when — every single time.

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