by Dave Wilkinson
My introduction to social nudity was a direct result of the death of my friend and longtime running guide, Jacob Wells, who died during his 153rd marathon in November 2014. Jacob and I were often mistaken for brothers. We had the same build and the same personality. If there was a record for platonic bondage, we would have it for the innumerable miles we ran tethered to each other. We were a fixture in the local running scene for years. His death was incomprehensible. It shattered my world.
I had a job that kept me on the road a vast majority of the time. As a coping mechanism for my grief, I impulsively booked an overnight stay at a clothing-optional resort in Tampa. Social nudity had lived quietly on my bucket list, but I was always too embarrassed to actually follow through. My nerves were already fried from writing Jacob’s eulogy, so why not add public nudity to the emotional chaos?
After checking into the resort, I went to my room, undressed, took a shower, lathered up with sunscreen, took a deep breath and stepped outside. Nothing happened! The Earth continued to spin on its axis. No one cared or probably even noticed that I was naked. In a few minutes it felt normal. Then it just felt luxurious. I stretched out on a lounge chair by the pool and wrote the eulogy for my friend.
Let’s step back and define social nudity. It is the practice of being naked with others in social, non-sexual settings. Social nudists enjoy the human body in its natural state without textile barriers. So in essence, we don’t do anything differently than you do. It just so happens that we’re naked.
After my introduction to social nudity, my experiences quickly expanded to nude or clothing-optional beaches and other resorts. Then I discovered BodyFest, an annual festival outside of Toronto that celebrates the human body in its natural state. This has become an annual event on my calendar.
The BodyFest camping area is a decent walk on a circuitous path from other festival events. I use a Victor Trek to drop electronic breadcrumbs along the way, but I still end up lost more than I’d like to admit. At my first BodyFest I was flustered with how often I needed directions. As the weekend progressed, in spite of my frustration, I began to notice that when I asked for assistance, people did not encroach on my personal space. They asked before touching me. This is no small thing. Often well-meaning people just grab an arm and “steer” me instead of providing actual directions.
In my experience, social nudists make fewer assumptions and ask more questions. Their inquisitiveness narrows the disconnect between us. In a group of naked strangers, I feel like people see a more complete version of me. It has nothing to do with the visibility of my genitalia, or theirs, but instead it is the general environment that exists when people are open to ideas and concepts that reach beyond traditional societal norms.
Random things happen at social nudist gatherings. One time a guy showed up with a unicycle and offered me the chance to ride it. Spoiler alert: it takes a bit of practice to ride these things. I’m not sure why he brought a unicycle to a naturist weekend, but that’s kind of the point. A random unicycle among a bunch of naked people just didn’t feel out of the ordinary.
Social nudity is not a panacea for the world's problems. Naked or covered, we still have war, smog, inflation and a myriad other ills. And social nudity doesn’t eliminate the power imbalance that exists between people with and without vision. Fun fact: I have no idea what a foreskin looks like. I lost access to mine via circumcision a few days after my birth. As a straight guy, my penis is the only one I’ve handled. I can’t just look on the Internet or surreptitiously peek in a locker room to fill in this knowledge gap. I have undoubtedly had interactions with plenty of uncut guys at various nude events. If I had vision, I might have taken note of a foreskin or two just like I’d notice other details such as the shape of a nose. It’s always struck me as weird that I know a whole lot more about nuances in female anatomy than I know about the original configuration of my penis.
So no, social nudity doesn’t provide any solution for the problems of the world or even give answers to basic questions I have about me and my surroundings. But it’s an environment where I feel seen and valued as just another person, and that’s enough to keep me coming back.