I hate television. I don’t think I’ve ever owned one that got channels. I have to admit though, occasionally through cultural osmosis a show or a character will capture my attention, and hold the poor hyperactive little thing hostage until it wastes away. They can’t survive in captivity, you know. My favorite shows often are ones where outsiders; whether space-alien, foreigner, android, or just someone neuro-atypical are stuck trying to make sense of our world. Through their clean-slate eyes we’re shown the absurdities of things we’ve been raised to accept. They remind us to question our norms, traditions, taboos, pop-culture, and most importantly, our everything. That childlike questioning is something I try to never let slip away. And so, from this standpoint, I gotta tell ya, clothes don’t always make a whole lotta sense.
Instead of pretending your a new-born alien-android from a dark-matter multiverse let’s try an easier thought experiment. (If you don’t know, thought experiment is what pretentious people call playing make-believe.) Imagine if you met someone who’s chosen a handful of body parts to hide under two layers of tight cloth. Their ears perhaps, because they’re afraid someone’ll judge them on their size. Or maybe they refused to take off a kinda bra-thing from their nose because someone told them it was a dirty, slimy, part. Or their mouth might live under a surgical mask because they’re embarrassed they like to have their lovers fuck them there. It doesn’t matter, the point is they plan to keep them covered just about every moment, of every day, for their entire life.
Admittedly, I’ve never conducted this test, as it’s just a thought experiment, but my thought results have everyone believing that this person is a straight-up nut-job. “It’s silly and unhealthy.” says one thought experimenter. “They should let those things air-out and get a little sun.” said another thought volunteer.
Though I must agree with these imaginary friends of mine, it is kinda amusing to picturing this oddball not wanting to get their face-holes-clothes wet while taking a dip, and having to find a secluded spot to change real quickly into their special wet-getting swimming clothes.
In this country we call swimming without clothes “skinny-dipping.” You know what they call it other places? Swimming. And here, in the Land of the Free, one can’t do that in their own pool, sunbathe on their lawn, or even walk around their house nude without the curtains drawn. I tell ya, the more one travels, the more they realize that this nation that brags so much about freedom, has more rules than a lot that don’t feel the need to. (But that’s a topic for another week.) And there certainly is more to judging a place than by the size of it law books. In fact, technically, right now it’s legal in 33 states for women to go topless any place a man can. But it’s not surprising few take them up on it except in protest. Our norms, traditions, and taboos are far more powerful than any laws. And shame of our bodies is so embedded is our culture that a woman taking her top off can still be considered revolutionary.
It may seem strange to some of us, but right now there are a women all over the world who are fighting for their right to wear the burqa, niqab, or hijab. Why? Because for them it’s about modesty and decency. They say they enjoy saving themselves for only their lover’s eyes. And because they don’t want people gawking at, or objectifying, them… In short, because they’d feel ‘naked’ without them.
It’s not difficult to imagine a Western woman on a beach going off on a woman in a Burqini. (Yes, that’s a thing.) Giving some beautiful, and true, tirade about it, and in the next breath getting indignant when someone suggests she remove her bathing-suit to beat the heat. But hay, I’m no apologist, I agree that it’s an arcane tradition woven into the very fabric of an entire society based on an oppressive and misogynistic religion… Oh wait, which one was I talking about again?
Whether because it’s a sin, or against the law, or just plain wrong we’re taught, almost from birth, that one of our most important jobs in life is to hide our bodies. And when we’re all playing this strange game of hide-and-seek, and only perfectly sculpted celebrities are allowed to play show-and-tell, that can’t help but warp our ideas about how humans are supposed to look. I suspect that in a world where people would be exposed to all different body types they’d be able to feel better about their own uniqueness. But of course that’s just a thought experiment, in our world most have yet to even be comfortable being naked around themselves.
With guarded optimism though, I hope that this information (overload) age we’re exploding into, with its addiction to exposing everything, will be able to bring about the death of shame. I wonder, in a world where everyone has a camera on them at all times, how long can any, even slightly adventurous, soul hold on to their self-consciousness? Growing up, getting fucked up, fucking things up. Parties, skinny-diping, mooning and flashing. Mardi Gras, Burning Man, Woodstock. Every little embarrassing thing caught on film and shown to the world. I can’t see how anyone’ll make it out of college with their modesty in tact. I wouldn’t’ve made it out of high school.
For better or for worse one day no one may have any secrets and that’ll just be the norm, but we’re not there quite yet so we still have to deal with some pretty fucked up shit sometimes. Every so often some peeping-tom/burglar sneaks into a woman’s safest and most secure area to steal her most privet things. Privet photographs of herself that were to be given as a gift to her lover. Unarguably this crime is a violation – unless it’s committed by cyber-lowlifes and the women they steal from chose acting as their careers. Then the discussion becomes whether these woman somehow brought it upon themselves. The correct answer to this question is, of course, “Fuck you!”
“Should these women have the audacity to take photos of their nakedness and give them to other consenting adults?” Fuck you!
Not only is there nothing wrong with someone feeling comfortable enough in their own skin to pose nude, it’s marvelous they’ve found the courage in themselves, and the appreciation in another to give such a gift.
“Do these women have a right to privacy even if they choose to act for a living?” Fuck you!
For some reason we don’t like to think of famous people, as people. We elevate and dehumanize them into strange, unfeeling celebrities. We think because we spend our 15 bucks to see them in a new movie every few years we deserve to know everything about them, even if they have some silly notion of holding on to even the smallest shred of privacy – like naked images of themselves. But hay, they should’ve know better, right? No, Fuck you!
“Should I look at these very privet things that were stolen and distributed against the wishes of the only people who had a right to look at them?” Most people don’t even wonder before sitting down with google and lube. I bet you can guess the correct answer. Fuck you!
Think of it this way, if there was an app that allowed you to peek through a celebrity’s computer into their privet life, when they specifically expressed their displeasure at the idea, would it be ok to look? No, of course not. Any rationalization you can come up with is wrong.
“Was it a mistake for these women to take nude pictures of themselves?” Fuck you.
As comforting at it is to our psyches to blame the victim (a topic for another week) these people, of course, did nothing wrong. Again, I’ve a romanticized view of nudie pictures, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I see them as full of empowerment and strength and trust and all kinds of beauty. And something to be proud of no matter what.