Everything You Need to Know About Consent, Explained With A Burger

I’d love to share my fries with you, but not my burger

The other day we were eating burgers. My partner leaned over and snatched a fry from my daughter’s plate.

She immediately protested. “That’s mine!”

He dismissed her complaint with the typical, “It’s just one fry,” but I wasn’t about to let this opportunity go. Now that she’s in daycare in the mornings, I’m not there to oversee what other people teach her about consent.

“Daddy should not have taken your fry without asking,” I agreed, giving him a pointed look.

Kudos to him — he got the message. “Mom’s right. I’m sorry. I’ll ask you if I want any more.”

Most of us don’t run through food courts grabbing burgers out of the hands of strangers. There are pretty clear social rules around this.

Sadly, though, many people still seem confused about other people’s bodies — particularly women’s and children’s bodies.

Let me explain using burgers, so we’re all on the same page.

My burger does smell delicious. Oh, it’s making your mouth water? Maybe you should order your own burger.

You’d like a bite of my burger? Sure, you can have one bite. No, you can’t have more. It’s my burger.

You think it’s weird I like my burger with pineapple and jalapenos? That’s nice. You eat your burger the way you like your burger, and I’ll eat mine the way I enjoy it.

You don’t like how I put ketchup all over my fries? That’s weird. They’re my fries, and they have nothing to do with you.

I did take my patty out of the bun. You think it’s ‘immodest’ when you can see my patty? That’s too bad. It’s my burger.

You’re a carnivore and you don’t believe that veggie patties count? Then don’t eat them. I think they’re delicious.

I do have two burgers. No, I’m not giving you one. I ordered two because I wanted two. They’re both mine.

I shared my burger with you last week? That’s true. Last week I felt like sharing. This week I don’t. Step away from my damn burger.

You made me a burger? That’s very thoughtful, but I’m not in the mood for a burger.

Sure, I’d love to share my fries with you, but not my burger.

No, you can’t put mustard on my burger just because I’m sharing a bite with you. I don’t like mustard, and it’s still my burger.

No, it doesn’t matter how hungry you are. Just because you want my burger doesn’t mean you can grab it off my plate. It’s my burger.

Your whining is making me lose my appetite. Go away so I can enjoy my burger in peace.

It doesn’t matter if you’re bigger than me, and your burger didn’t quite fill you up. I still don’t have to share my burger.

I had to go to the bathroom and you ate my burger while I was gone? You’re an asshole. Just because I’m not here doesn’t mean you have permission.

You only took one fry? Why am I making such a big deal out of it? I dunno, how about I take just one of your fingers, and we’ll see how you feel about it.

If it’s not your burger, it’s not your burger.

Nothing ever gives you a right to my burger. Nothing ever ‘excuses’ you from stealing what is mine. It’s obnoxious when you comment on how I like my burger, and it shows me you don’t respect me.

Unsolicited criticisms about my burger are unwelcome. Respectful admiration is ok; lewdly drooling on my burger is not.

Think about how irritating it can be when someone takes just one fry without your consent. Now times that by a million.

If it’s not your body, always. ask. permission.

Danielle Loewen loves to talk about feminism and sex. You can find more of her work here.

If burgers aren’t your thing, here’s a video on consent and tea: