Sexual assault survivor Jas Rawlinson on setting consent boundaries early

Sexual assault survivor Jas Rawlinson is on a mission to teach young people about body boundaries. She says it’s never too early to start.

Jas Rawlinson is a sexual abuse survivor.

When Jas Rawlinson was sexually assaulted as a young woman, her assailant took her for “a nice breakfast” the next morning. At the time, she said yes in a haze of confusion.

“I’d wanted to go on a date with him for a few years,” she recalls, speaking from her home in Brisbane almost 20 years later.

“When I’d asked Blake* what happened the night before, he’d become really coy. ‘Oh, you’re so cute, Jas. Can’t you remember?’”

She remembered enough to have a sick feeling in her stomach, but it would take her years of “wrestling with the word rape” to really comprehend it.

“I thought rape happened in a dark alley with a stranger,” says Rawlinson, 39. “I thought rape was always violent. I even thought it had to last a certain length of time. I didn’t understand the nuance.”

Her experience didn’t fit the cliche of sexual assault – and this confusion only added to her trauma.

Her assailant was someone she knew – they had casually dated and kissed before. It happened in his family’s home, quietly without any screaming.

However, every detail of that night was alarming. She could remember meeting Blake in a bar and walking back together. However, by the time they got there, she was “overwhelmingly tired, unable to move my limbs, immobile”.

To this day, she doesn’t know if she was drugged.

Jas Rawlinson is an award-winning domestic violence speaker, survivor & author who specialises in domestic violence awareness, resilience and storytelling. Picture: Louise Wright

Jas shares the moment that led her to feel passionate about boundaries and consent and teachers others. Picture: Louise Wright

Of course. Raised in a Christian family, she had been clear with Blake that she wanted to save herself for marriage or at least a “strong, long-term relationship”. Yet, as she lay there, frozen, she watched Blake move to his dresser drawer and take out a condom.

In a cruel twist, after he sexually assaulted her, Blake was the one to comfort her.

“When I woke up in his bed, I started crying and crying,” recalls Rawlinson. “All I wanted was my dad.” Her father had died two years earlier from suicide.

At the time, she had tried to tell herself that “my kind boyfriend is comforting me”. But the truth was very different: she had lost her virginity, non-consensually. And her rapist was now gas-lighting her into believing he was helping her.

Looking back, there were red flags before that night: “When I’d stay over at his house, he’d undo my pants when I was asleep and laugh the next day, not telling me if anything happened or not. There was boundary-crossing in every way.”

During that unforgettable breakfast, she sent a message to a friend: “I don’t know how to feel, because he took me out for a really nice breakfast afterwards.” Her friend replied, “Jas, I don’t care what he bought you – what he did was wrong.”

Today, she is incredibly grateful for that friend.

“I was ready to sweep it under the rug,” she says. “I’d like to think I wouldn’t have gone back to him, but I do think I’d have minimised it.”

At the time, the understanding of consent within her friendship group was “terrible”. Another girlfriend, who heard about the assault, responded: “Well, you can’t call it rape, Jas, because you’ve known him and dated him, and you’d been drinking.”

This toxic comment was one of the reasons she didn’t press charges.

“I don’t think I even realised it was an option, because I’d dated him and he wasn’t a stranger in an alley,” she adds.

After ignoring Blake’s call for three weeks, she did decide to confront him. “He just looked confused, which made it more aggravating,” she says.

Jas Rawlinson is a sexual abuse survivor. Picture: Supplied

Today, there is no doubt in her mind that what happened was a crime.

“I’ll never forget what he said before I blacked out that night,” she says. “I won’t share it, but it made it extremely clear he knew what he was doing – and didn’t feel badly about it.”

The experience had a lasting impact. It led to panic attacks and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and a temporary “fear of men” that impacted many areas of her life.

However, it also impacted her career in a positive way, shaping her work as an advocate and educator.

Today, Rawlinson is an award-winning motivational speaker who tours organisations and schools talking about boundary setting and how to recognise the “red flags” of coercive relationships.

And there is no better time of year to be talking about the risks of sexual misconduct.

According to research from Macquarie University, incidents of sexual violence increase in the summertime as temperatures rise. The reasons are complex, according to the researchers, but include “behaviour changes associated with warmer weather”.

For instance, people are more likely to socialise and drink alcohol, which “may create more opportunities and motivation to act aggressively”.

This is not an adult-only problem.

In 2024, the Sexual Harassment of Teachers Report found 80 per cent of teachers reported a rise of “harmful sexual behaviours in their schools”. A total of 66.6 per cent of survey respondents reported witnessing the sexual harassment of a student by another student.

So, is enough being done to teach young people about consent, both at home and in our school systems?

“I find that a lot of schools still have trepidation about talking about sexual violence,” says Rawlinson.

Jas gives talks around Australia and in schools about consent. Picture: Supplied

Jas’ book The Stories We carry. Picture: Supplied

Her course Red Flags 101, designed for young people and communities, includes a module on How to say no and hold your boundaries (without over-explaining or being mean.)

For young people, learning to set boundaries within a friendship or a safe family environment can be good practice, before navigating more difficult scenarios like sexual encounters.

“I really wanted to make sure that was part of the course,” she says. “Boundary setting is such a big one, especially for women and girls, or people who have experienced trauma. We can be so conditioned to people-please and avoid conflict.”

As a survivor, Rawlinson admits, becoming a mother felt triggering. In many ways, she was relieved to have a son.

“I had this internalised thinking that, if I had a boy, this journey would be easier,” she says. “I was so afraid of this happening to my daughter, even though research shows one in six boys experience sexual assault before they’re adults.”

As a mother to a seven-year-old boy, she believes it’s never too early to start teaching kids about consent in an age-appropriate way.

“My husband and I talk a lot about ‘body boundaries’ with my son,” she says. “If he’s in the bathroom having a shower and I’ve got to go in with his towels, he’ll say, ‘Mum, don’t look at me.’ He’s really strong with his boundaries and we encourage that.”

It’s also about promoting body autonomy – like not forcing your child or teen to kiss grandma goodbye.

“With our son, we give him different options, so he never feels internal pressure,” Rawlinson says. “Do you want to give a hug or a fist bump, or just wave goodbye? It’s about giving our kids the agency to choose their comfort levels.”

As children get older, there are different challenges, especially with the influence of social media, dating apps and adult content online.

In September 2024, Tinder launched a “consent course”, developed in collaboration with Chanel Contos, founder of Teach Us Consent and NGO partner, WESNET.

According to Tinder’s data, 28 per cent of users say they know “something” about consent. Worryingly, 17 per cent admit they know “little or nothing” about consent. Almost 80 per cent have felt pressure to conform to a partner’s intimate interests, with 18 per cent stating they “often” feel this pressure.

In the last few years, the technology sector has tried to find a solution to the cloudiness of consent. The rise of “consent apps” has been widely criticised – where a person signs an online contract before being intimate.

“There’s something so strange about that,” says Rawlinson. “Just because you’ve ticked a box, it doesn’t mean you consent the entire time.”

Instead, she encourages young people to realise that consent is not a “one and done” event.

“I am seeing much more focus now on encouraging people to ask their partner – and to check in with them again and again,” she adds.

With high-profile sexual assault cases in the news, she urges parents to be aware of the subliminal messaging being absorbed by young people when celebrities are involved and fans seek to “justify” their behaviour.

In touring schools and speaking to students across the country, Rawlinson is hopeful. She says young people do want to discuss boundaries and are eager to learn tools to have healthier, respectful relationships.

“My hope for all young people is, they are able to explore authentic, intimate relationships where both parties feel respected,” she says. “And that any decisions are not made out of fear or coercion. That’s what I want to teach my son too.”

* name has been changed