Antioch’s “Sexual Offense Policy” was handed down in 1992, but it wasn’t until last fall that the media stumbled upon it and pronounced it a menace to spontaneous sex. The policy reduced foreplay to nine pages that fairly reeked of political correctness: “Asking ‘Do you want to have sex with me?’ is not enough. The request for consent must be specific to each act.” May I kiss you? May I touch you here? May I try to remove your bra with one hand? Heaven help us. The inevitable New Yorker cartoon found Dracula asking his toothsome young victim, “And now may I bite your neck?”
Six months after the policy went public, it hardly seems as apocalyptic as all that. The conduct code is still debated on campus, but few students are letting a war of words stand between them and Saturday night. The policy has made some women breathe easier: “It’s made me feel 100 percent more comfortable, more respected and more empowered,” says junior Clare Mills. But it hasn’t put a dent in Antioch’s hallowed tradition of spontaneous sex. “[Students] may be more aware,” says Greg Powers, a senior, “but they’re still doing it like rabbits.”
If most Antioch students are ignoring the sexual-offense policy, the irony is that they wrote it themselves. Geographically speaking, the college lies nestled in the tiny community of Yellow Springs, Ohio. Politically, it lies to the left of the University of California, Berkeley; Oberlin College in Ohio; Reed College in Oregon, and even the grunge outpost known as Evergreen State College in Washington. (Question: How do you know Santa Claus went to Evergreen? Answer: He has long hair and a beard, he always wears the same clothes and he only works one day a year.) Antioch has just 650 students, nearly 70 percent of whom are female. It has long been a resolutely radical college-a model of self-governance that supports a strong lesbian community, encourages graffiti and discourages letter grades. “This school is made up of really bright kids with little social skills,” says Shayla Hason, a sophomore. “It’s like the weirdest people from all over the country came here. You get the whole spectrum of fringe thought.”
No one denies that the female students run Antioch-both politically and sexually. in 1990, after two rapes were reported on campus, a feminist group called Womyn of Antioch threatened “radical, physical actions” if the college did not institute a sexual-conduct policy. “It was an extremely difficult time,” remembers Antioch president Alan E. Guskin. “The students were yelling and screaming.” The Womyn proposed a judicial model in which the accused would have no right to representation and only a vague understanding of the charges; the accuser’s advocate would serve as judge and jury, and the only possible sentence would be expulsion. The proposal passed. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but they could tinker with it later. Dean of Students Marian Jensen acknowledges that even the much more reasonable code in place today isn’t flawless. But she believes it has sparked an important debate-“You can’t underestimate the lack of knowledge and discourse among young people”-and she’s pleased to report that a coy new come-on is circulating on campus: “Would you like to activate the policy?”
You’d think that all this fuss about empowerment would have polarized the men and women of Antioch. And, in truth, some male students insist they’re the victims of a double standard. Sophomore David McCusker once fell face down on his bed, ill from drink, whereupon a classmate began rubbing the back of his thighs: “Women do stuff on this campus that men would get lynched for.” Freshman Justin Wilks was once writing a term paper when a young woman entered his room, stripped naked and complimented him on his cologne: “I’ve been told by several women that they would like to f-k me. I’m not used to that” and it makes me uncomfortable." Wilks went back to his term paper. The woman left in a huff.
Antioch has its share of hookworms, of course, but many students love nothing so much as a study break. Maybe the moral here is that free love (,an flourish once everybody agrees on the ground rules. Maybe the moral is that Antioch students like to have sex even more than they like to talk about it. “I don’t think anybody is following that policy word for word,” says Greg Powers. “I’m certainly not.” Who was worrying about sexual politics when a performance group came to Antioch a year ago for a “Dionysian Rock Orgy”? Not the men and women of Antioch-they were too busy moshing nude. Who was thinking about propriety when a certain prospective student toured the school with his folks? Not campus legend “Bink”-he was found baking brownies in the buff. And who was playing “Mother, May I?” during all those infamous North Dorm steam baths? Says Wilks, “I’ve seen evidence the day after. I saw liquor bottles, condoms and a whole bunch of hair.”
So the sexual-offense policy is just a big joke? Well, not so fast. Since the policy’s coming-out party in September, only a handful of students have lodged sexual-harassment complaints. All of them have been so tame that Dean Jensen has mediated them herself: a lesbian woman was too aggressive with her lover, a male student who entered a female student’s room uninvited and so on. There has not been a rape reported at Antioch since the Womyn first made their demands three years ago. No one has been expelled. No one has even gone before the hearing board. It may be that, even as students are flouting the letter of the law, they’re remaining true to the spirit of it. It may be that they’ve found a policy to match their youthful appetites. “It is exactly because there is so much sex on campus that this policy is necessary,” says Kristine Herman. a senior. “More sex means more chance of a violation.”
Most of us would prefer to live our lives without ever having to ask May I go for the zipper? But Antioch’s byzantine consent code was never meant to be tested on the nation at large; it was meant to be one experimental policy for one experimental bunch of college kids. You might not like the sound of it, but then you might not like the sound of Foucault or microwavable burritos. President Guskin, for one, is proud of the way his students are grappling with the issues of the day. “The ’90s are a time for searching for new norms of behavior,” he says. “How do we relate? What is the nature of relationships? It’s a much more serious time. Fun and games are not what we’re dealing with.” Says who? Someone ought to invite this guy to a steam bath.
< b>THE OFFICIAL RULES OF THE GAME
Antioch Dean Marian Jensen says students are abiding by the college’s nine-page sexual-conduct code “to the extent that they feel comfortable.” A few excerpts:
If sexual contact and/or conduct is not mutually and simultaneously initiated, then the person who initiates sexual contact/conduct is responsible for getting the verbal consent of the other individuals involved.
Obtaining consent is an on-going process in any sexual interaction. Verbal consent should be obtained with each new level of physical and/or sexual contact/conduct in any given interaction, regardless of who initiates it. Asking “Do you want to have sex with me?” is not enough. The request for consent must be specific to each act.
To knowingly take advantage of someone who is under the influence of alcohol, drugs and/or prescribed medication is not acceptable behavior in the Antioch community.
If someone has initially consented but then stops consenting during a sexual interaction, she/he should communicate withdrawal verbally and/or through physical resistance. The other individual(s) must stop immediately.
