I think about my rape that I endured at 20 years old, and one thing stands out clearly to me: no one ever talked to me in depth about rape before that age.

And honestly, that is a problem.

Because by 20, many people are already dating seriously, some are married, and others are making long-term decisions about relationships and intimacy. That means the conversation about sexual violence, consent, and boundaries cannot wait until adulthood—it needs to happen long before.

If I had been married or in a serious relationship at 20, I still could have experienced rape. But without proper education, I might not have even had the language to recognize it. I might have questioned myself. I might have minimized it. I might have thought it was normal, expected, or something I had to accept.

That is the danger of silence.

When children and teens are not taught words like consent, coercion, date rape, or marital rape, they are left without the tools to understand their own experiences. And when someone doesn’t have language for something, they often don’t have clarity about it either.

Instead of recognizing harm, they may feel confusion. Instead of naming violation, they may feel guilt. Instead of seeking help, they may stay silent.

This is especially important because rape is not limited to strangers. It can happen in dating relationships. It can happen in marriages. It can happen with people who are trusted or loved. And if someone has never been taught that “no” still matters in those contexts, they may not recognize what is happening to them as wrong.

Consent is not something that begins at adulthood. It is a concept that should grow with a child’s understanding of relationships, respect, and boundaries. By the time someone is 16, 18, or 20, they are already navigating real relationships—so the education should already be in place.

What I’ve realized is this: language is protection.

When people have language, they can identify harm. They can trust their instincts. They can name what happened. And they can seek help without feeling like they have to justify or minimize their experience.

Without language, many people are left trying to interpret trauma in real time without any framework for understanding it.

Looking back, I didn’t just need awareness—I needed words. I needed to know that what violates consent is not confusion or misunderstanding, but harm. I needed to know that I had the right to define my own experience clearly, without shame or hesitation.

That is why these conversations matter so much earlier in life.

Because by the time someone is an adult, they should not be learning the language of consent for the first time—they should already know how to use it.