‘They want to leave women alone with their ‘problem,’ says Polish women’s rights defender, Justyna of the ruling ultra-conservative party in Poland.  Justyna, a mother of three, works in an increasingly hostile environment, one in which women’s sexual and reproductive rights (SRHR) are being completely dismantled. Poland has one of the most restrictive abortion laws in Europe, only permitting abortion when the life or health of the pregnant woman is endangered or in the case of rape or incest. On 22 October 2020, the Polish Court went further and ruled that abortions could no longer happen in cases of foetal illness or abnormality. The only way for women who need a safe abortion is to rely on NGOs and women’s rights defenders, like Justyna, who enable self-administrated abortions; a safe and easy way avoid being forced through a pregnancy.

The absence of a ‘no’ is not an implicit yes. This is the overarching principle of a long-fought Swedish ‘consent law’ aimed at dismantling the ‘no means no’ framework; a system rooted in the idea that a person needed to explicitly resist for it to constitute rape. Women’s rights activist Demet Ergun is hopeful the law, which came into force in 2018, will facilitate understanding of consent but adds dryly that ‘People don’t pay enough attention to the fact that sex should be something done ‘with’ someone, not ‘to’ them.’ As President of the women’s rights coalition Fatta, Demet knows all too well the time-worn path to legislative change. It was Fatta that spearheaded the campaign to reform Swedish rape laws. The movement for change was sparked when the acquittal of three 19-year-old men accused of raping a 15-year-old* girl with a glass bottle in 2013 provoked mass protests. From the ashes of this horrifying rape case, feminist resistance rose up. Fed up with having women’s and girls’ experiences of sexual violence minimised by society and courts of law, the founders of what was to become Fatta began to gather together, collecting women’s stories and raising public awareness, before formally establishing the organisation. Under the new law, rape survivors no longer have to prove there was threat, force, or that they were taken advantage of in a vulnerable situation. The law states that consent can never be freely given by people who are intoxicated, incapacitated, under duress, or in a situation of unequal power dynamics or dependency, such as sex between a teacher and their student. After the law was implemented, Sweden saw rape conviction rates rise by 75% between 2019 and 2020. Four years ago, many of these cases wouldn’t legally have constituted rape; a shocking indictment of just how many survivors of sexual violence have never received justice. Gender-based violence expertise or training is still not required to be a juror in a rape trial, which Demet says must change. Sweden’s consent law also introduced a new, lesser offence of ‘negligent rape’ to make it possible to get justice for survivors in cases where courts found that while the intent to knowingly disregard the victim’s lack of consent could not be proven, the perpetrator had failed to clarify whether or not consent was being given, and therefore should have stopped and asked. The law’s acknowledgment that rape can still happen in the absence of force or threat is important to dismantling the myth that most rape is perpetrated by strangers. It also rejects the notion that prior consent is ‘forever’ consent and includes situations in which the victim ‘freezes’ or is taken by surprise and does not have time to react. Demet explains that the presumption of innocence until proven guilty hasn’t been replaced, but now the court has to decide whether or not consent was given: ‘Previously the victim had to prove that there was a strong indication of resistance. Now the accused has to show they received consent and how this was interpreted. A key difference is that physical evidence is no longer required. This is important because of the 'frozen fight' situation; often people can’t fight off perpetrators or control how their body reacts.’ Opponents of the law argue consent can’t be proven, but sexual violence campaigners insist that it can be expressed clearly either verbally or through nonverbal cues, such as positive body language like smiling, maintaining eye contact, and nodding. We have been taught that sex is about setting a silent ambiance and that talking can ‘break the mood’. However, questions can facilitate a positive sexual experience in myriad ways from creating comfort to establishing intimacy.

‘Everyone has the right to live without violence. You can have sex without love, but always with care’. This is the message Filomena Ruggiero wants people to take away. For her, broadening the concept of violence and placing the focus on ‘yes’ contributes to a better understanding about sex as an encounter that is wanted and not one of obligation. A long-time women’s rights champion, Filomena, who is policy adviser and advocacy lead at SEDRA-Spanish Federation for Family Planning (SEDRA-FPFE), says the collective trauma resulting from a shocking rape case in 2016 was the catalyst for change and provoked a wave of feminist action across the country. Spain’s ‘yes means yes’ consent law, which came into effect in October 2022, was sparked by the acquittal of five men who raped an 18-year-old woman during the 2016 Pamplona bull-running festival. Dubbed ‘the wolf pack’ case, there was widespread outrage after the court argued footage showing the woman motionless with her eyes closed, was proof of consent. Again, four years after the rape in Pamplona, a group of men who gang raped a 14-year-old girl in Catalonia were convicted of the lesser charge of sexual abuse, this time because the victim was intoxicated. Both cases highlighted the abject inadequacy of Spanish rape legislation, which previously stated violence or coercion had to be present for it to be considered rape. Relics of a patriarchal system, previous rape laws in Spain were steeped in sexist assumptions about consent and so-called ‘acceptable’ behaviour. Cases so often hinged on the behaviour of the victim, as if this had somehow contributed to or excused rape. What the survivor was wearing, drinking or doing at the time was put under the spotlight, and not the actions of the accused.  The legal changes mean victims will no longer have to provide proof of violence or threat of violence, coercion or resistance against their attacker(s) in court. Plying someone with drugs or alcohol to coerce them into sex is a criminal offence, and digital violence, such as threats or non-consensual sharing of images, has also been criminalised. The new law maintains the presumption that the accused is innocent until proven guilty. But going forward it is the defendant who will have to prove there was consent and the victim will have to prove there was no consent. The law also aims to avoid secondary victimisation that results when institutions and individuals acting on their behalf, for example lawyers, the judiciary and the public prosecutor’s office, seek to discredit the victim by asking unnecessary and intrusive questions about her private life that are rooted in gender stereotypes and prejudices. An alliance of feminist organisations, which included SEDRA-FPFE, played an integral part in drafting the new law. They ensured the introduction of 50 crisis centres and 24-hour support for victims, as well as financial support. But Filomena says the issue now lies in resources. The national law needs to be implemented at the regional level, which means its application will be unequal. Nevertheless, the law reform sends a very clear message: nobody is entitled to your body, and consent is never given through coercion, intimidation, violence or incapacitation. Consent must now be freely given and expressed. If it is not, this is rape. Encouraging men to step up Street harassment – the provocative comments, whistling or gestures women are so often subjected to – is now also a criminal offence. This marks a paradigm shift to seeing sexual harassment as an issue of social justice. Despite this, the public outcry has galvanised the extreme right who view the reform as a threat to their regressive anti-feminist agenda. Opponents of the new law claim street harassment is part of Latin culture and something to be celebrated. Filomena rebuffs this arguing it defines women as sexual objects: ‘Catcalling is often viewed by men as something positive in Spain but the comments are of a sexual nature, which provokes insecurity and fear. It can limit women’s freedom in their choice of clothing, how they act or behave.’ Filomena believes men need to do more to end violence: ‘Social norms don’t change through laws alone but are constructed through a long cultural process. Boys and men are also victims of macho social norms. We must encourage men to stop other men from doing this and raise awareness.’ Filomena is adamant the role of men as peer educators is fundamental to the law: ‘We need to have a reflection in society on gender roles, and we cannot let macho groups distort and weaponize the debate. There is a lot of misinformation around the legislation. Male influencers should tackle this by speaking out about how this is really about putting desire at the centre, about sex being wanted and enjoyed. This would contribute to a better understanding of the law and of its consequences, which are very positive for men.’  

‘Rape isn’t always something that happens when you are dragged into an alleyway’, says Heleen Heysse, Policy Officer at Sensoa, the Flemish centre of expertise on sexual health. ‘The subtle ways in which coercion can take place, as well as the many ways consent can be freely given, is within this law. It recognises people’s experiences and their trauma’. Heleen says the consent law which came into effect in June 2022 in Belgium is a victory for survivors and campaigners. The legislation unequivocally states: non-consensual sex is rape. Rape cases will now no longer hinge on whether a survivor said ‘no’ or fought back. Instead, it is an offence when consent is lacking, withdrawn or when advantage is taken of a victim’s vulnerable state. The consent-based definition also applies to other forms of sexual violence.   Sensoa has been at the forefront of campaigning for reform of the outdated sexual criminal law for many years. They say that within the new law, the absence of struggle or reaction can no longer be taken as implicit consent as it takes into account the freeze response – when a person is unable to react. Heleen stresses the presumption of innocence until proven guilty remains one of the core tenets of the Belgian justice system and investigations are just as rigorous. This, she says, contradicts the myth spread by opponents of consent-based legislation that women will use the law to falsely report rape; complaints of which are grossly overestimated. Previously, an assault could only be legally considered rape if coercion, physical force or verbal threats took place, or a person was unable to defend themselves. Like in many countries across the EU, rape victims had to prove that there had been violence or that they had explicitly said ‘no.’ Alongside this law, Belgium has also become the first country in Europe to decriminalise sex work, which Heleen and her colleague Julia Day say makes it easier for sex workers to report sexual violence. Training prevents victim blaming Up to 90% of rape cases in Belgium go unreported and only 4% of people file a complaint with the police. Julia and Heleen say this is due to the hurdles survivors face when reporting sexual violence, not to mention the trauma associated with interrogations and pervasive victim blaming. Julia says adequate training is essential: ‘It’s important police know and understand the law so when conducting an interview, they have guidelines on questioning to establish whether the victim consented freely.’ Reporting a rape is a big ordeal. Victims of sexual violence often blame themselves and are afraid they won’t be believed. Even under the new law, in Belgium, when someone reports a rape to the police, the legal process is kickstarted immediately. This can discourage people from reporting sexual crimes. Fortunately, the introduction of Sexual Assault Centres has vastly reduced reporting obstacles; 68% of survivors who came to a centre went on to file a complaint, significantly higher than the national average. This is largely because the support offered at the centres is focused on providing confidential care to survivors and helping them to rebuild their lives; it includes forensic analysis, trauma care, specially trained inspectors, psychologists and case managers in one place. It also enables marginalised groups, such as transgender people and sex workers to report rape in a safer environment. Currently, there are seven centres across Belgium and Julia says they hope to have one in every province: ‘Five years ago, we had nothing. It’s a good step forward. There’s a lot that needs to be in place to open a centre. They must be linked to other hospital services, there needs to be an HIV clinic and counselling as well.’ As regards the reporting process, the centres support survivors in a way that is sensitive to the extreme stress they are experiencing, and the impact it has on the ability to process information and form memories. Victims are filmed telling their stories and can decide later on if they want to press charges or not.   Heleen believes filming is vital to avoid retraumatisation: ‘It minimises how many times questions are asked, which reduces the emotional burden of the process.’ For Julia, it gives rape survivors a sense of control: ‘You get lost in the legal system with no idea what to expect and that’s scary, especially when the control has already been taken from you. When you have to repeat your story, it’s normal that it changes, and this can be used against you. Filming limits victim-blaming and puts them in a more powerful position.’

We spoke to young people from the Western Balkans about how their access to sexual and reproductive health and rights was affected by the COVID pandemic, and asked them about their vision for re-designing a more youth-friendly future in which young people can flourish.  Yellow is a 22-year-old student from Skopje, North Macedonia.   Yellow, describe your experience of access to SRHR* education, information and care before and during COVID.    During the beginning of the pandemic, my access (as a student) to health services was limited due to bureaucratic obstacles to enjoying the right to free health care. Sexual and reproductive health, as well as non-COVID services, were deprioritized, hence access to them was difficult. Since COVID, things are slowly starting to return to normal, but due to the global economic situation, some of the services offered by the NGO sector are being cut and we are working strictly with certain groups of individuals who are being targeted at the moment. I have witnessed young people being turned away from accessing SRHR-related services because they do not belong to a certain group.   Did anything change for the better for you during the pandemic in terms of access to SRHR? Has this continued since COVID is no longer an urgent crisis? What has improved is access to SHRH education, due to the expansion of availability with new digital tools. But many of these alternatives, which were of great importance in the time of COVID, have been cut off by the easing of restrictions.   What was the biggest obstacle to your SRHR during the pandemic? How could decision-makers/medical professionals have removed this obstacle?   The main obstacle during the pandemic was the complete deprioritization of all health care at the expense of COVID. Due to the novelty of dealing with a pandemic, the government and institutions had difficulties in managing things. Additionally, I believe that gender blindness in making these decisions was shown by curtailing the freedom and movement of people who were most in need of SRH services. This could have been prevented by including the perspective of different marginalised groups in the creation of recommendations and protocols to deal with the pandemic.     What lessons do you think governments and professionals working with young people should learn from the COVID experience about how to look after young people’s health and well-being in a crisis?  I don't think any new lessons were learned, unfortunately. I hope that the experience of this pandemic will help in creating programs and protocols that will prevent similar situations like this. In a number of states, states of emergency have been misused to push political agendas. Additionally young people were again placed at the bottom of the list for maintaining their well-being, reinforcing the stereotype that health care should not be a priority for young people because of their 'youth/age'.     What is your number 1 recommendation on what is needed to make services more youth-friendly? What difference would this make in the life of a young person like you or your friends? Very easy: ask and listen to young people. High quality, youth-friendly services should be available and accessible to young people in appropriate locations. Employees need to be motivated and ready to adapt to work with young people. Perhaps an additional piece of advice would be to invest in young people who can be professionally involved in these institutions.   * SRHR = sexual and reproductive health and rights Interview conducted by Anamarija Danevska, a member of the regional youth group of the IPPF EN project Youth Voices, Youth Choices, funded by MSD for Mothers  

We spoke to young people from the Western Balkans about how their access to sexual and reproductive health and rights was affected by the COVID pandemic, and asked them about their vision for re-designing a more youth-friendly future in which young people can flourish.  Erblin Berisha is a 21-year-old from Prishtina, Kosovo. He is studying web development.    Describe your experience of access to SRHR* education, information and care before and during COVID. COVID limited our access to SRHR because of measures like we had to wear masks and could go out for just two hours a day with our ID cards. Information was less accessible because NGOs couldn’t hold their activities. If we were interested, we could Google a topic - I did this. But before the pandemic there were activities that were a good way to let everyone know about sexual health risks. Here in Kosovo it’s kind of difficult for SRHR to be taken seriously because there’s an old mentality of not talking about sexual health. Now, that we are out of the pandemic I suppose information is more accessible – thank god, because it is really important.   Do you think anything changed for the better during COVID? Not, really no. I think a lot of things improved digitally during the pandemic, but not access to SRHR information. It was kind of like a forgotten subject, so the only information people got was how to deal with COVID-19, but they never really talked about sexual health.   What was the biggest obstacle to your SRHR during the pandemic? How could decision-makers/medical professionals have removed this obstacle?   The people who provide information on SRHR are already doing their best by building young people’s awareness and developing activities. I’m not sure if this did happen, but it would have been helpful during the pandemic to hold online meetings on SRHR, to give people knowledge about how to keep themselves safe.   What lessons do you think that governments and professionals like doctors should take from COVID about how to look after young people health? I don`t think they learned any lessons, because after the pandemic everyone acted like COVID was gone and there were no improvements, like people forgot about sexual health actually.   What is your number one recommendation of what is needed to make services youth-friendly? I would say probably make people aware of these issues from an early age. One problem is that teachers don’t want to talk about this stuff because it’s embarrassing; that happened to me at school, when sex was mentioned, the kids all started laughing and didn’t care about the lesson, and the teacher got embarrassed and just told us to read the materials at home, which probably nobody did. It would better to actually talk about this earlier on.   What difference would this make in your life, or your friends' lives? Having more knowledge about SRHR would help us to be prepared and able to take care of ourselves.   So, I guess you took part in SRHR activities, right? What helped you to become engaged as an educator? Yes. Honestly, there were a lot of benefits. Even though I started when I was at university, I still learned a lot of stuff that I didn`t know before. At first I didn’t care so much about some of the issues, I just thought they were interesting and it would probably be useful to know more. But when I started being a part of a group, it was about gender equality and other SRHR issues, and it was good to learn more about something that you need in your life.    * SRHR = sexual and reproductive health and rights Interview conducted by Elionita Rexhepaj and Elsa Rexhepaj, members of the regional youth group of the IPPF EN project Youth Voices, Youth Choices, funded by MSD for Mothers