This is an increasingly popular expression, and it sometimes gets critiqued by arguing: “Consent is what builds trust, and not the other way around.”

And yes, sure enough, consent is one of the components that builds trust. Brené Brown and Charles Feltman (The Thin Book of Trust, 2008) defined trust as: boundaries (stating and respecting), accountability (dealing with hardship), privacy (keeping secrets), integrity (being consistent) and generosity (well-meaning towards each other).

Consent addresses many of Brown and Feltman’s components of trust. But it is not a one-way relationship, that consent builds trust. I think they rather feed each other and I tend to focus on trust first — since one does not replace the other, so I don’t have to pick. But I’d rather spend more time exploring trust than negotiating consent. What I mean is — I explore whether I can trust someone. Consent is a tool for that.

There are also many other tools that build trust. For me community is a big one. To participate in shared experiences, to see how someone plays with others, how they deal with their hardships, how they verbalize their emotions. Of course, I can’t assume that they’ll be the same with me, but it’s a good indication. Community also helps to recommend and vet potential play partners. And to establish shared values. Playing with someone outside my community always feels more risky, and consent doesn’t help much.

It also depends what kind of consent. Sometimes I think the argument is really about informed consent versus trust-based consent. Trust-based in the sense that I trust we can do this together. And that we can establish an embodied or enthusiastic consent. That our bodies can communicate and take care of each other. If I can trust in the relationship or the play between us. Almost as a third entity that we summon together.

And how much do I actually trust myself? In relationship to others. Can I follow my desires and express my rejections while keeping everyone involved safe enough? Of course, this won’t protect me against the truly malicious. But it will help me navigate the sometimes fraught and stormy waters of intimacy.

So when someone tells me that trust is more important for them than consent, I see it as a sign that they also prefer their play slow, intimate and relational. If the first thing a new potential play partner does is present me with their edge play hard limits, like don’t cut my skin, then I get worried that they have strange expectations on what our play will be. If they also give me a long instruction on exactly what modalities they enjoy, then I worry that they are expecting something very transactional. Which I’m rarely interested in. But each to their own right?

Finally, as with all these things, what is more dependable? Both trust and consent are easily broken. Even by the most well-meaning misunderstandings, mistakes, or even the odd happenstances. So maybe, just maybe, what it comes down to when deciding if we should play is how well we speak about these things, and how well our actions match our words. To know, if I want to share something intimate together, or not.

If you want to know even more in-depth how I think about this: Chapter 4: A Longing For Belonging in my book Rituals and Paradoxes from 2024 is a good place to start.