As a writer and lecturer on sexuality, consent, and Title IX on college campuses, [Freitas] applies her research skills to her own long-undisclosed story and is unflinching in her examination. It is a harrowing and brilliant personal exploration of consent, shame, and power ... Freitas writes beautifully; she is both a probing academic and a poet ... The title is important. The book is called Consent, not, say, Stalked, or My Creepy Teacher. Consent is the nagging question that runs through the book—when and how or whether consent took place. Freitas does not owe anyone an examination of her role, but she probes it, pokes it, turns it over in her hand, and exposes it to light in a way that is a great gift to her reader ... It is painful to witness. And important and generous, even, of her to do ... In spite of her experience, as both a passionate student and teacher Freitas is quick to defend the sanctity of a bond between teacher and student, and it only underscores how tragic it is when people like Father L. and his brethren violate the pact ... The writing of this book feels like an exorcism of sorts of that residual shame. To expose it to the sunlight, as they say, and kill the germs. The book is important beyond that though. It walks us through why our intuition is worth its weight in gold. And walks us through the complexity of consent, of power dynamics, and of what shame can do to even the brightest. In the end, Freitas comes to her conclusion with humility and honesty. She hasn’t conquered every demon left behind by the experience, but there is a sense of release, and, critically, a voice returned.
In Consent: A Memoir of Unwanted Attention, Freitas recounts with great thoughtfulness how her perception of the power differential between them, as well as her faith in the religious and educational institutions she’d grown up with, lulled her into susceptibility and disbelief ... [The book includes] nuanced explorations of the meaning of 'consent' but also the hurried, underedited quality of a manuscript written on deadline ... Freitas’s [book] would benefit from tightened prose. But these are small complaints given the service...provide[d], which is to show without a shadow of a doubt that sexual harassment is often more terrorizing than many people understand it to be (particularly those lucky enough to have avoided its reach). For that reason, I’m grateful for Freitas’s reclamation of her voice[.]
As an attempt to wrestle with such feelings, Consent is an affecting memoir. Ms. Freitas is a fluid writer, if prone to hyperbole...Excess aside, Ms. Freitas does convey the intensity of her ordeal ... But as a case study for broader claims, Consent is less persuasive. Ms. Freitas spends a lot of time indicting a system that she thinks failed her ... More troublingly, Ms. Freitas conflates her experience with the experience of victims of sexual assault...Given the real physical violence that so many women have suffered, such comparisons feel shockingly tone deaf ... Agency and responsibility are crucial aspects of any discussion of sexual relations. It’s a shame that Ms. Freitas didn’t explore them with the care and nuance they deserve. No one should have to go through what she did as a student, but the conclusions she draws from her experience do little to advance the conversation we should be having about consent.
... an important book because it illustrates how victims blame themselves, and how institutions are eager to maintain their good public image and not help those who have been wronged. It also shows that women who are being harassed are in no position of power and are forced to remain silent --- sometimes forever --- while emphasizing that stalking and harassment must be taken seriously as it can leave deep psychological wounds ... Freitas has written an honest, brutal and raw memoir not only about the unwanted attention she received, but about sexuality, philosophy and feminism. In order not to be written out of her own story, she decided to tell it 20 years later. It is never too late for accounts about violence against women to see the light of day. Consent is a must-read.
...the author provides a harrowing narrative of the detachment and disconnection often felt by harassment survivors. In her painstaking account, imbued throughout with alternating senses of self-awareness and -doubt, Freitas reviews her choices as if constantly scanning for fault or responsibility even as she unfolds the layers of lies that protected an influential professor. Her smooth storytelling skills translate this nightmare to the page with emotionally wrought insights ... As she interrogates womanhood, professional success, and expectations about protection when such behavior is reported, the author’s attention to the institutional response in light of current trends makes this an urgently vital perspective ... A groundbreaking resource for educators, administrators, students, and survivors, the book explores an issue many would prefer to ignore.
Here, [Freitas] shares how she’s inhabited two different worlds—one where she’s successful and strong, another where she feels terrified and alone—for years, and shows how debilitating and shameful the experience can be for a survivor of stalking ... Freitas is incredibly honest and doesn’t shy away from her feelings that she is in some way at fault. She rounds out her memories with details of her family and friends as well as more studious synthesis, and calls for campus reform, adding heft to an already important story.
...a probing and painful account of being stalked ... [Freitas] lays bare in vivid scenes and complex reflections the overriding shame, confusion, and fear she felt as a productive professional relationship turned personal, then to persecution. Freitas’s narrative illustrates how self-doubt, denial, and self-blame can silence victims...and affect them long-term ... Freitas’s delicate study of her torment and its devastating effects, which raises thorny, meaningful questions about how to define consent, is an important testament for the #MeToo era.
