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I approached another table at the Campus Center — three juniors whose fondness for pickup basketball had brought them together as freshmen. None were aware of the consent decree. With some keyword coaching, Malik Alexander found the policy announcement in his old emails and read it aloud. He had his buddies’ attention.

Mr. Alexander warmed to the idea: “This sounds like something that should be done by everyone in everyday life anyway. I’ve always been more of a consensual sort of guy.”

Kevin Miranda shook his head. “I think that could be difficult in practice,” he said. “Can you at least use body language instead of always having to ask out loud?” Yes. California’s definition and the revised language going into effect in the fall in New York are clear on this point. Body language and physical clues (say, a clear nod) would count, but both warn that consent can be revoked at any time.

“When consent is withdrawn or can no longer be given, sexual activity must stop.”

One student about to graduate with a degree in science, who asked not to be identified given the intimate nature of her story, had read and absorbed New York’s law. She said she had had only one sexual encounter in four years at Albany, with a good friend she had begun dating. She was open to having sex but didn’t know what to expect, and it took awhile to realize when her partner became domineering and aggressive that this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“It wasn’t something we’d agreed upon,” she said. “It wasn’t sexy.” She told him to stop, she said, and tried to push him away, and that’s when “he covered my mouth with his hand” until he was finished.

She never told anyone, not a friend, not a counselor and not her family.

“They’d never look at me the same again.”

Did she think it rose to the level of sexual assault? “Yes it did,” she said.

And had she considered filing a complaint with the police or the SUNY authorities? “I don’t have that kind of courage,” she said, “but I commend all strong women who do.”