I Give You Permission to Go To A Naked Beach...
And Contemplate Your Relationship with Clothing
The boyfriend and I went to a nude beach this past Sunday.
“Oh God, mom,” my daughter said, who attends the nearby college. “You aren’t.”
But she knew I was, and I had no shame about it. I was aligned with my desire to swim in the sea naked, and lay on the blanket with the warm sun making love to all my parts. I was excited to share this with my boyfriend who had never been naked on a beach. Stripping away the clothes that we use to cover us in a society that sells us those very clothes to make us beautiful is permission to be in your original stripped down self. Literally.
The climb down to the beach was a series of long twists and turns, the cliffs rising all around us as hang gliders practiced their descent onto the sand. The beach patrons were a mix of older couples, duos of couples, thruples (perhaps or just friends?), single men and single women, and one bad ass naked surfer chick who sat on her board like a vision in the sea. We also saw black dolphins cavorting.
Lying on our blanket naked brought a sense of tranquility and freedom as we snacked on a veggie roll. As I looked around at the peaceful nudity, I questioned the farcity of beach wear. I mean, girls on beaches in LA wear dental floss thongs, and tops barely covering their nipples, posing for photo shoots in the surf’s froth. They might as well be naked, but they can’t because we live in a repressed beach culture. In fact, one wonders if we all looked at bit looser at nudity in general, we wouldn’t have so many porn addictions in increasingly younger people. In Europe, on the beach you go topless. It’s just chill. Here, at this beach in San Diego, Black Beach, we were able to go full monty, and nothing felt more connected to nature and our origin than walking into that cool translucent water stark naked.
After our lovely experience on the tranquil beach with no trash or noise pollution (just the lulling waves), I came home and wrote about my relationship with nudity. I have been connected to the ocean nude since I was 13 years old. A friend lived in a condo on a beach in Bristol, RI and we couldn’t get our clothes off fast enough to swim in the Bay. The purity of nudity was part of my rite of passage of teen-dom. In my junior year in high school, my friend Wendy’s parents flew us in a private plane to Cat Island in the Bahamas that was basically deserted all but locals. She and I quickly found a strip of beach void of other humans and off came our clothes. Apparently drug dealers used the island to traffic, and so when a dust cloud revealed itself to be a military Jeep of armed forces racing down the beach, we ran in our naked splendor into the ocean to hide under the water.
Any time the East Coast weather showed any sign of warmth, I found a deck with a high enough wall, or a covered patio for sunbathing and my clothes came off.
Then I moved into more of an urban life. New York City didn’t allow for many opportunities of sunbathing nudity, and travel to the Netherlands in the winter did not bode well for naked sunbathing. I went through a long spell of dreaming of nudity. In fact, when my daughters were born, I loved nothing more than being naked with them, breastfeeding, their warm little bodies pressed against mine in motherly love.
When I first got sober, in 2014, I took a trip to Big Sur, and discovered that at Esalen Institute, they had a co-ed bathing area. I felt completely sick thinking about taking my clothes off in front of strange men (which is hysterical if you think about the one night stands of the early 90’s… I mean, come on…) I almost aborted the idea to go, but saw I had forgotten how to relax into my body. I needed to overcome this fear for me; shut down and barely aware of who I was. I had forgotten the skinny dipping girl who loved her nudity and closed myself into a world where I stopped giving myself permission for freedom and expression. I didn’t know my place anymore. I took off my clothes and with courage, strode onto the big open deck with hot tubs and massage tables to lay on while listening to the surf crash against the craggy rocks. While I felt a little objectified by a few men there this was my own self-censorship. No one was gawking at me. I felt the vastness of my nudity and allowed myself to lay there in the sun while the seals barked.
In 2017 I went to Barcelona, and discovered the topless etiquette on the beaches, and much to my daughters’ horror, took off my top. They relaxed into it as long as I didn’t stand up or walk to the water’s edge. The sun’s warmth on my chest reminded me of how much I loved the freedom of nudity. I was continuing to regain a long lost part of me - a permission for self expression and to be the adventuresome wanderer that lived dormant inside me.
Incidentally, just a few weekends ago, I was in Joshua Tree back country camping and since there is literally no one around at night or in the morning, I got nude and stayed nude for hours until the temperature dipped. Being naked on the rocks eating breakfast and watching the sun rise brought me to my primal self.
I wish that more of a lax point of view about being nude on the beaches in the US would remove the whole culture of thirst bait on social with scantily clad people. We have this pathological knee jerk conditioning in this country for “what’s under the clothes” and while I know strip tease and burlesque is in itself an art of taking clothes off, we should be able to be naked more often in more places in this country. It would normalize the experience with the naked body. We would be communing with nature, the ocean, the sun, and gathering in a way that says that we are all bodies but we are not our bodies. Our sexuality is so much deeper than just our external selves and how big our breasts are, or whether we have a shaved bush or hairy legs. Whether we have a sagging ass or firm thighs.
I recall nudist colonies being a thing when I was in my teens and grossed out. Why would people want to walk around seeing each other’s partners naked. I can’t say I am in love with group nudity on any level. I have some of my hang ups there, but I do think that spending some time with yourself or your partner in nature naked reconnects you to your essence, and removes all the layers of protection we carry around. The shielding of our human suit.
I give you permission, in any way you can, even if it is walking around your house, or sunbathing on your deck, to get naked. Lean into the deepest most sensual parts of you.
LA SUBSCRIBERS! Last chance to sign up for my permission panel this Saturday 4-6 PM in Woodland Hills (and if you live here you know that is the valley so yes, a schlep but so worth it!) Check out the lineup here - we are almost sold out.