When I said No

In a previous post, I shared how I found the strength to say no during a retreat. Today, I want to share the story behind that moment—because it changed something in me. And maybe, it will speak to something in you too.

I was attending a one-week tantra retreat abroad. It was my third retreat with the same group, so by now, we all felt at ease with each other. We’d practiced together, laughed, cried together, shared deeply personal stories. There was trust, comfort, and a beautiful sense of community.

One afternoon, after the lunch break, we gathered again in the practice hall. The facilitator introduced the next ritual—one I recognised. I had done it before, both in group settings and during private tantra sessions.

Here’s how it works:

You pair up with someone, and one by one, you name something you’re ready to let go of—something that no longer serves you. It could be fear of being judged, negative self-talk, shame, guilt… anything. And with each release, you symbolically remove an item of clothing. The process continues until you are completely naked. That’s when the ritual ends—when you’re stripped down, exposed, and free.

As the rules were explained and people began pairing up, I felt a slight discomfort rising in my body… like a gentle resistance, a whisper that said: not today, not here. So I paused. I took a moment to check in with myself.

It wasn’t that I had a problem being naked. I am naked during my sessions with people I had just met. I did this practice on another retreat before. But that day, something in me didn’t want to do it. It just didn’t feel right.

So I chose to honour that.

I paired with someone and began slowly. I removed an earring. Then the other. My necklace. A hair pin. Another hair pin. My hair bubble. My socks. One item at a time, letting go of things that no longer served me. Each one carried meaning. Each one was intentional.

And then—I stopped.

I felt complete.

By this point, most people were already naked or nearly there. The facilitator glanced over and made a subtle motion for me to keep going. I shook my head. I’m done, I said.

He smiled politely, but insisted I wasn’t. That the practice wasn’t finished until everyone was naked. That we all needed to be equal.

His tone was gentle—but firm. And I began to feel something tighten inside me.

I could sense everyone’s eyes on me. Waiting.

In that moment, it would’ve been easier—so much easier—to just go along with it. To take off my clothes and melt into the group. But every cell in my body said no.

I stayed with myself.

I repeated: I’m done.

The facilitator tried again—more pushy this time. Encouraging, yes, but also dismissive. I could feel my heart beating fast. I was confused. We were at a tantra retreat where consent was meant to be honoured. And yet, my clear no was being challenged.

Eventually, he backed off.

The group moved into a big closing hug—nearly 30 people, all naked… except me.

And there I was.

Not fully part of the group.

But fully part of myself.

I felt proud. I also felt separate. Like I had broken an unspoken rule.

But I also felt grounded. Rooted. Like I belonged—at the very least—to me.

After the practice, three people came to speak with me privately.

One said they’d felt uncomfortable watching the facilitator push me.

Another said she admired me—she hadn’t wanted to undress either, but she went along because she felt she had to.

And the third, a man, told me—quite casually—that some of the men in the room were hoping to see me naked.

Hearing those different reflections was fascinating.

That experience was pivotal for me. It showed me how easy it is to override ourselves, even in “conscious” spaces. How subtle the pressure can be—even when it's wrapped in spiritual language or group energy.

It reminded me that consent isn’t just about saying yes or no to someone else.

It’s about knowing what you actually feel and want.

It’s about checking in, listening, and having the courage to honour what you hear.

It’s about recognising that your body doesn’t owe anyone anything—not your nudity, not your performance, not your compliance.

That day I honoured my ‘no’—and in doing so, I reclaimed a deeper sense of self-trust.

It made me wonder:

How many times before had I said yes when I meant no?

How often had I betrayed myself in the name of being agreeable, liked, or accepted? Or out of desire to belong to a certain group.

There were more moments like that in my life. Ones I’m still unpacking.

And I’ll be sharing one of those in my next post.

But for now, I want to offer you this:

• What does consent mean to you—not just in s*ex, but in everything?

• Can you feel when something is a full yes… and when it’s not?

• Can you stay with yourself, even when others want you to move differently?

You don’t have to say yes to feel that you belong.

And you don’t have to say no to make a point.

You only need to be honest. And honour what’s true.

Love,

Rosie x