NEKKIT

I have to start this out with a story about self-confidence.

A couple of years ago, when I first started going to the gym, I was showering after my workout at about the same time a shriek of girls were at the pool for their swimming lessons. As is the case with most change rooms, the showers are closest to the pool doors, and the little critters all piled into the shower area like so many new ducklings trying to cross the street. They saw me showering, and one little girl held her hands up to her mouth and screamed – at the tops of her lungs, like the shower scene in Psycho. She kept screaming until her teacher shooed her out of the shower. I’m surprised she didn’t also point at me while she was screaming.

Now that sort of thing can shake a person’s self-confidence.

I laugh when I think about this all the time. In fact, at the *time* I found it pretty funny. I assumed that the girl was from one of those families who just were never…naked in front of each other. Or anyone else.

It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly when I was faced with the idea that my own body was somehow dirty. That no matter how much I bathed, the fact that underneath my clothes, I was naked, and naked was somehow bad. I know, I know. We can add all kinds of things in here about weird ideas that the dominant religion taught us, and the fact that women have been demonized since the beginning of time – the discussion about women being feared, and subsequently subjugated and controlled because of our strength can probably wait for another time. I remember being in a similar change room after swimming lessons and peeling off my bathing suit to shower.

The friend I was with shrieked in a similar way to Cherub the Screamer, and that time she *did* point at me. She screamed, “what are you doing? Oh my God, put on your clothes!”

I was mystified. Why would I put on my chloriney bathing suit just after I’d showered. My friend said something about being dirty, and I was all, wait, what? I just got *clean*, for crap’s sake. It did not compute.

So I know that when I was a kid, I had – let’s call them normal – ideas about my body, about all bodies. When did that change? Or perhaps a better question is, DID it change?

A few years later, I was at the beach with some friends – at their beach cottage, and one of them demonstrated how she could change into her bathing suit without having to take off her clothes first. We were probably 11 or 12, and the other girls were suitably impressed. I was very confused… I proceeded to ask why you’d ever need to use that particular skill.

I don’t know how often you’ve asked something or said something and the room goes absolutely silent, but it’s a regular occurrence in my life. From the time I asked in Sunday school why Jesus wanted to be a woman (he always wore a dress) to the time I announced to my best friend’s parents that I wanted to be a sex symbol when I grew up, to the time I told a room full of people that hand sanitizer is great for jello shooters if you can’t get booze, this is something that just…happens around me. This was one of those times.

My friends stared at me, horrified. “So that nobody will see your bum,” one of them said.

“What’s wrong with seeing my bum?” I asked.

“It’s DIRTY,” someone said.

“Pffft,” I scoffed. “No it isn’t. Unless you don’t wipe properly. Then it’s dirty.”

[Note: there’s a good chance we had very different definitions of ‘dirty’.]

I proceeded to strip down, put on my bathing suit, and ended with a little pirouette and a “ta daaaa!” I was not invited back to that cottage.

In junior high school, none of the girls wanted to shower after gym. If you’ve just come by the centre of the universe today and haven’t read yesterday’s post, let me tell you I sweat like a corpulent landowner in the deep south. The very best thing about working up a sweat is getting to have a cool shower afterwards. I was barely in the change room before I was ripping off my grotty gym clothes and heading for the showers. I didn’t care that other girls could see my breasts, my naked thighs, my butt. I cared that I wasn’t going to smell like my gym locker for the rest of the day.

I am not making value judgments about people who are uncomfortable with nudity. I’m saying I don’t get it. It’s fine for me not to get it; if you’re not comfortable being nude, keep those duds on! Cover up! What I am saying, I guess, in the last post and in this post is that if I choose to walk from my locker to the shower with my clean towel in my hand rather than wrapped around my sweaty self in the locker room, that is what locker rooms are for. I haven’t yet wandered out into the pool or the weight room sans pants, and although naked swims are a thing a friend of mine gets to do in Edmonton, as far as I know, I don’t have that option here yet, so I keep my nudity confined to my house and the locker room (so far. WATCH OUT, WASCANA PARK).

Whatever your feelings on nudity, I will ask you please, please don’t teach your children that their bodies are dirty, or bad, or wrong in any way. Their bodies are perfect. If it’s your preference that nakedness is not appropriate in front of other people, that’s your preference. Just please don’t teach them nakedness is filthy or backwards or sinful. Don’t teach them to fear or hate their own bodies.


Also published on Medium.

cenobyte
cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.

12 Comments

  1. “I don’t know how often you’ve asked something or said something and the room goes absolutely silent, but it’s a regular occurrence in my life.” — classic! Love it.

    1. I choose to call those times “wow moments”, when people are SO INSPIRED by what I’ve just said that they can hardly breathe. And not, as is more likely the case, that they’re all asking the same question in their heads: “how can someone who seems so bright be so monumentally thick?”

  2. I grew up in a 1970s Australian beach suburb.

    On the beach men – especially life-savers, of which I was one – wore tiny translucent ‘Speedo’ swimmers, nicknamed “budgie smugglers”. No one seemed to give it a second thought. But if you were to appear on a nearby street in far more substantial y-front undies you would have caused shock and outrage.

    Similarly women rarely wore bikini tops while sunbathing and during summer holidays you couldn’t get from the car-park to the shoreline without seeing a few dozen sets of naked tits. But a woman who bared her breasts in the car-park was liable to be threatened with arrest.

    Do you remember the movie “The Gods Must Be Crazy”? The main protagonist was a missionary who at one point explained he was incapable of being near a woman’s body without becoming flustered. At the time he was standing in the middle of a village full of beautiful, near-naked women, all of whom happened to be black. I don’t think the South African makers of the film intended it to be an ironic joke either.

    1. I FRIGGING LOVE THAT MOVIE.

      There’s an interesting double-standard in Canada; the Supreme Court ruled in 1989 that women have the constitutional right to go topless in public. But women still get arrested for public indecency if they go topless in certain areas if it’s against local bylaws. Of course, those bylaws won’t stand up in a federal court, but the point is, women still get arrested for being topless, which means they have to pay fines, etc., unless they want to fight the charge in court.

      I’d say most women don’t even know that it IS legal to be topless in Canada.

      Like I said in the post above, I don’t understand what people find so threatening or frightening about nudity. Also, I LOVE the term “budgie smugglers”.

        1. Oh yes, it was TOTALLY racist. I watched it when it first came out, when I was just a Wee Thing, and while I had an odd sense that something was Very Wrong, loved the ridiculousness of it. I grew up in an EXTREMELY racist town, and was just starting to form ideas about prejudice, racism, bigotry in general, etc.. And to be fair, I haven’t watched it again since I was seven or eight.

          1. I was already in my 20s and had been following the news from Namibia pretty closely for a while so I never saw it through the eyes of innocence. I’d also been pre-sensitised to the propaganda of ignorant black terrorists manipulated by evil communist foreign advisors by the Laurens van der Post novel A Story Like the Wind (which also featured a naive but noble San savage).

    1. That’s a picture of me, naked, in the bathtub. It’s probably one of the best selfies I’ve ever taken.

      But to answer the actual question, I was washing my hair. It helps to soak it in water when you wash it. ;p

i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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