“Desexualize nudity” doesn’t mean what you think it does

Shifting the narrative: the healthy coexistence of sexual and non-sexual nudity

We hear it all the time from naturism advocates: “Desexualize nudity.” It even has its own hashtag. I noticed the phrase being thrown around soon after I joined the online nudist community, and I often found it rubbed me the wrong way. It’s not that I think nudity should be sexual. Just take a look at my Twitter feed, and you’ll see that I’m a strong advocate for non-sexual nudity. But the way it was being used and interpreted by many struck me as overly simplistic, harmful, and counterproductive to the nudist cause.

People often message me, concerned that they will lose the sexual enjoyment of nudity if they become a nudist. They have taken the message of “desexualize nudity” to mean that they have to give up one way of seeing nudity, in order to attain another, supposedly morally superior perspective. I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to give anything up. We can, in fact, see nudity as both sexual and non-sexual.

I like to think of it not so much as changing your view of nudity, as broadening it. I can spend the day at the beach with my partner, running around naked, surrounded by other naked people, and it doesn’t feel sexual at all. I’m thankful to have this perspective because it gives me more ways to bond with people and enjoy my body and nature without sexual thoughts distracting me. Yet, at another time, I can be aroused simply by looking at my partner’s naked body or showing mine off to him. I’m also thankful to have this perspective on nudity. It, too, brings me pleasure. I haven’t lost the ability to see nudity as sexual. I have simply acquired another lens through which to view it.

Nudity's dual nature

To some, this seems unfathomable. The sexual response to nudity feels so hardwired, that they can’t imagine ever seeing it another way. I used to be the same before I became a nudist.

I like to remind people that there were many tribal cultures where everyone went naked all the time, and it was completely normal to them. Their lives weren’t a constant orgy because they were naked. They managed to live together and go about their lives without clothes just fine. The inability to see nudity in a non-sexual way isn’t hardwired, it’s just heavily ingrained from a lifetime of conditioning. It can take time, but the best way to undo it is regular exposure to non-sexual situations involving nudity. The problem is, if we push away anyone who hasn’t already desexualized nudity, people can’t get that exposure, and they stay stuck where they are.

After a lifetime of conditioning, people can’t always help it if they have sexual feelings about nudity in an inappropriate situation. If we tell them that those thoughts are wrong, we create shame. Naturism does such a good job of combating shame about our bodies. We shouldn’t turn around and create shame about something else.

Overcoming shame

In my early days as a naturist, I would sometimes find myself getting aroused when visiting nude beaches, particularly right after undressing. I used to beat myself up about it. I would also feel guilty if I found myself aroused by a nudist picture that popped up on my Twitter feed. I’d been told that nudity isn’t sexual, so I questioned whether I was a true nudist, or just a voyeur and exhibitionist, playing at being a nudist.

Fortunately, I managed to cut myself some slack. Talking to others online made me realise that this was a common and normal experience for new nudists, and in fact, many long-time nudists still get sexual pleasure from seeing naked bodies and showing their own in appropriate situations. I learned that being a nudist isn’t about being a saint at all times. All that matters is that you enjoy yourself, and don’t make others feel uncomfortable. What you think and feel is different from how you act, and what you do in private doesn’t dictate how you behave when you’re face-to-face with other nudists. This is a much more healthy way of looking at it because it eliminates shame. Instead of moralising our view of nudity, we simply realise that there’s a time and place for everything. I’d also argue that this approach is not only kinder to people but is also beneficial for the nudist movement.

Nudism is still a niche subculture. We are misunderstood, legally persecuted, and opportunities to be socially naked are often few and far between. Our movement desperately needs growth. When there are enough of us that the average person has a friend or family member who is an out and proud nudist, we will be much better off. People will be more likely to give nudism a try because it doesn’t seem as weird anymore. People will be more supportive of relaxing legal restrictions on nudity. There will be more demand for nude recreation, so more businesses will cater to us. Growth will make it easier and more satisfying to be a nudist. So how do we get there? We stop pushing people away and start bringing people in.

Growth and acceptance

When we make people ashamed of their feelings, we make them feel unwelcome. They’ll keep their nudism secret, or give up on it altogether. Or they may seek validation from voyeurs and exhibitionists who don’t respect the rules of nudist etiquette. None of these are good outcomes for nudism.

When we make nudist spaces safe and non-judgemental, more people will be willing to give it a go. Remember how I said that the best way for people to undo the automatic association between nudity and sex is regular exposure to non-sexual nudity? Well, now that people aren’t ashamed to put themselves in those situations, they can actually get that exposure. The catch-22 is resolved, and over time they become better at separating sexual and non-sexual nudity. By being less concerned about desexualizing nudity, we actually achieve the goal of helping more people realise that nudity isn’t always sexual. And we do it in a way that doesn’t demand that they give up something that gives them pleasure.

When I talk about this, many naturists will retort that this is what they mean by “desexualize nudity.” But unfortunately, this doesn’t seem to be the message a lot of people take away. I’ve had so many people sheepishly tell me that they’d love to go to a nude beach or socialise naked with other people, but they are ashamed, because they worry that they will get sexually aroused. They’ve already bought into the idea of non-sexual nudity, but their ingrained responses haven’t had a chance to catch up yet.

The answer most nudists give is, “Don’t worry, it won’t happen, because it’s not a sexual environment.” I actually think they are correct in most cases. Just about every time I’ve met someone who’s had these concerns, they’ve ended up not finding the interaction sexual after all. But try telling people that beforehand and they won’t believe you. So it’s best to just tell them that it’s fine and normal to find it sexual at first, as long as they behave respectfully. That way, they’ll feel safe to have the experiences that will help them to learn to separate sex and nudity.

The end goal, and the position I’m in now, is for your perception of nudity to be like a switch in your mind. You are in control, and you get to decide how to look at nudity in a given situation. You don’t feel shame about enjoying nudity in a sexual way, because you only do it when it won’t cause harm or make anyone feel uncomfortable. It can be a long road to achieve this goal, given the amount of brainwashing about nudity and sex most of us have received. That’s why it’s so important that nudism provides a safe space for people to go through that journey at their own pace without shaming them for not having reached the end yet. 🪐

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