Last week I went to see my dermatologist for my usual 6-month checkup. A reminder that I grew up under the Florida sun and so I keep her very busy. But it was the first time in my 7 years with her, where, before the exam began, she asked: “May I touch you?” She’s never asked me that before. And then I got it. In a world where there is way too much “bad touch” there is now clear and certain need for consent.
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