Rethinking Repression: How Silence and Speech Shape Sexual Histories

Rethinking Repression: How Silence and Speech Shape Sexual Histories

For decades, we’ve been told that breaking the silence around sex-especially sexual violence-is the path to justice. But what if silence wasn’t just oppression? What if it was also a survival tactic, a shield, even a form of resistance? The truth is, sexual history isn’t written only in loud confessions. It’s written in the pauses, the metaphors, the half-sentences, and the words never spoken aloud.

The Myth of the Silent Victim

The idea that victims of sexual violence were completely silent before the 1970s is a myth. Women didn’t just sit quietly. They talked-but not the way we expect. They said things like, "I was able to handle it," or "That was just how things were back then." These weren’t denials. They were coded messages. A 2022 Stanford study of over 2,300 oral history interviews from 1938 to 1975 found that nearly 27% contained clear references to sexual harassment or assault-even though only 5% used the word "rape" or "assault." The rest used indirect language: "He made me uncomfortable," "I had to be careful," "It wasn’t what I signed up for." This wasn’t ignorance. It was strategy. Women knew that saying "no" outright could get them fired, labeled a troublemaker, or worse. So they spoke in whispers wrapped in polite language. Their silence wasn’t empty. It was full of meaning.

When Saying "No" Doesn’t Work

Philosopher Mary Kate McGowan’s 2005 work on speech act theory changed how we understand sexual refusal. She showed that saying "no" isn’t enough. For a refusal to count as a real speech act, someone has to hear it-and accept it as valid. In many cases, especially when pornography shaped cultural expectations, "no" was ignored. Men didn’t hear it as refusal. They heard it as part of the script. The speech act failed-not because the woman didn’t speak, but because the context poisoned her words.

This isn’t just about the past. It’s still happening today. A 2023 study in the Journal of Sexual Medicine found that 68% of cervical cancer patients avoided talking about sex with their doctors because they feared being seen as "inappropriate" during illness. Even in medical settings, where trust should be high, silence wins. Why? Because the system hasn’t changed. The words are there. The willingness to speak might even be growing. But the listening? Still broken.

A woman's whispered 'no' dissolves into ghostly fragments, failing to reach a shadowy figure, surrounded by faint, unsaid phrases in the air.

Silence as Resistance

Not all silence is forced. Sometimes, it’s chosen. In 2018, 14 women from the Democratic Republic of Congo refused to testify at the International Criminal Court about sexual violence. Their representative said: "Speaking within your framework would make our truth smaller than our silence." This wasn’t defeat. It was defiance. They knew the court would reduce their experiences to legal categories that didn’t fit. They refused to let their pain become a political tool.

This is what scholar Maria Todorova calls "strategic silence." It’s not passive. It’s active. People choose silence when speaking would reinforce stereotypes, be twisted by institutions, or serve someone else’s agenda. In a 2021 study published in the Leiden Journal of International Law, 73% of cases where survivors declined to testify involved this exact concern: that their story would be used to justify wars, policies, or narratives they never agreed with.

In communities where non-heteronormative sexuality is stigmatized, silence works the same way. A 2008 study of 87 people practicing consensual non-monogamy found that 74% altered their stories when talking to doctors. 63% left out key details from family histories. They weren’t hiding because they were ashamed. They were protecting themselves from being labeled as sick, broken, or immoral.

The Grammar of Silence

Stanford researchers didn’t just collect stories. They built a tool to decode them. The Sexual Violence Linguistic Marker (SVLM) system identifies 47 specific phrases that signal sexual violence-phrases that traditional keyword searches miss. "He didn’t ask," "I didn’t know how to say no," "I just went along with it." These aren’t cries for help. They’re quiet admissions. And they’re everywhere.

The SVLM system found that 31% of interviews previously labeled "no relevant content" actually contained references to sexual violence. Traditional methods failed because they looked for keywords. The new method looked for patterns-the rhythm of hesitation, the tone of normalization, the weight of a pause. This is the grammar of silence. It’s not about what’s said. It’s about how it’s said, and what’s left unsaid.

Fourteen women sit in silent unity on the earth, invisible legal structures crumbling around them as a single feather floats upward.

Who Gets to Speak, and Who Gets Heard?

Silence isn’t the same for everyone. Regional and class differences matter. Women in the American South were 22% less likely to use direct language about harassment than women in the Northeast. Working-class women were 37% more likely to use metaphors than college-educated women. Why? Because power shapes language. If you’re poor, Black, or from a rural area, speaking up can cost you more. Your words won’t be believed. They’ll be dismissed as exaggeration, hysteria, or lies.

Even today, in healthcare, the same patterns hold. A 2023 study showed that 57% of patients first experienced sexual concerns at diagnosis-but 84% waited until after treatment to bring them up. They didn’t want to burden their doctors. They didn’t want to be seen as a problem. They didn’t want to be told it wasn’t important. So they waited. And in that waiting, relationships fractured, depression rose, and quality of life dropped.

The data is clear: people who avoid sexual conversations with partners or providers have 2.3 times higher rates of relationship breakdown and 1.8 times higher depression scores. Silence doesn’t protect you. It isolates you.

What Does This Mean for Us Now?

We can’t just demand more speaking. We need to rebuild how we listen. If someone says, "I was just trying to get through it," that’s not a weak story. That’s a real one. If someone avoids eye contact when talking about sex, that’s not shyness. That’s survival.

We need to stop treating silence as a failure. It’s a language. And like any language, it has rules, context, and meaning. The women in those 1950s interviews didn’t fail to speak. They spoke in a way that kept them alive. The men who ignored "no" didn’t just misunderstand. They were trained to. The doctors who didn’t ask about sex didn’t just forget. They were never taught to.

The future of sexual history isn’t about louder voices. It’s about deeper listening. It’s about recognizing that the most powerful truths are often hidden in the spaces between words. That the silence isn’t empty. It’s full of everything we’ve been too afraid-or too blind-to hear.

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