From the archives: Going public
From the archives: Going public
Andy Tabbat explains his decision to bare it all in the public domain
Editor’s Note: this article was first published in January, 2023, and is now in our paid-member archive. We’re republishing it here with permission from the author to bring it back to our free subscribers, especially since most of our subscribers are new and likely haven’t read it. Enjoy!
“Having nude pictures of myself floating around has never worried me much. Letting my body be seen is just putting my money where my mouth is.”
Photos are among our most powerful tools in the uphill battle to "normalize" nudity. The more nakedness people see, the less it seems remarkable. One picture of an unclothed person clearly consenting to be photographed can fight body shame as effectively as a well written pro-nudity manifesto. In terms of online nudism, a picture is worth a thousand words. It’s important that non-glamorized, non-sexualized, nude images of ordinary people should be ubiquitous and easy to find.
The photographs here are of me. I used to own the copyrights, meaning it was illegal to publish or alter them in any way without my consent. Now, at my own choice, these (and roughly 600 others, many including frontal nudity) are irrevocably in public domain and anyone is free to do whatever they please with them. They are fair game for use in news media, on book covers, greeting cards, T-shirts, or in any other way imaginable. My permission would not be required, nor would I receive payment. In other words, those photos are now as much yours as they are mine. This is the story of why, after decades of kidding myself that I could control the contexts in which my nude images appeared, I decided to just let go.
I understand the multitude of reasons so many of us don't feel at liberty to post nudes of ourselves. However, I’m in a position of not having to worry about being seen or found out. I’ve rarely made a secret of the simple joy I find in being naked. I’m also a lifelong nudist, equally at ease being photographed naked or clothed. I’ve always been one of those people who like having their picture taken. Having nude pictures of myself floating around has never worried me much. Letting my body be seen is just putting my money where my mouth is.
In 2006, hiding behind a fictional user name, I created an all-nude account on Flickr, a popular photo sharing website. There were plenty of other nudity-based accounts there. Too many, for my taste, focused on porn but others depicted genuine nudist lifestyles and philosophies. I felt strengthened by seeing those, and wanted to give back. I thought of my account as a means of offering my nude pictures to a worldwide audience of like-minded people without really revealing my identity. After all, I knew very little about the people behind those other nudist accounts. I’d seen them naked but their names, locations, professions, etc, usually remained a mystery. I was perfectly comfortable with that level of anonymous exposure for myself.
I have always been in awe of any brave soul who makes a stand for nudity under their real name, but I wasn’t yet ready for that. Starting in the 1990s, much of my clothes-free activity involved legal public nudity in San Francisco where I live. I often ran into friends and neighbors, and I felt fine about that. My nudity became familiar to people I didn't know; a total stranger once told he hardly recognized me with clothes on. But all this was different from being Googled by, say, an aunt or a potential client and having naked pictures pop up.
It wasn’t until 2021, when Evan Nicks interviewed me for his Naked Age podcast, that I felt the time had come to publish my real name in conjunction with nudism. Whether or not to use my surname was just one of several decisions I faced while recording the interview and awaiting its release. Evan and I also discussed whether he should use my name as a hashtag on photos he tweeted to promote the podcast. Should any of those photos show frontal nudity? I lost sleep over these matters. Was I finally prepared to link my name with nudity and vice versa? Once something is on the internet, there’s no taking it back. Mr. Nicks is a kind and considerate man; there was no pressure to offer myself up as clickbait for his podcast. Every decision was mine to make, and, every time, I nudged myself down the path that would stretch my limits and make a bolder statement. Ultimately, I knew I had to go all out: YES to the surname, YES to the hashtag, YES to full nudity on any platform allowing it, and YES to a link to my previously anonymous Flickr account. After all, doesn’t someone listening to my opinions and anecdotes deserve to know who’s speaking? That was a turning point for me in terms of fully coming out as a nudist.
I began thinking about removing copyright restrictions from my photos around that time. I selected a few pictures that might be attractive to mainstream media outlets and placed them in public domain. They depicted nude outdoor activities such as swimming or doing yard work, posed to avoid exposed genitals. Sure enough, when the next World Naked Gardening Day rolled around, there I was in the Miami Herald. Another of the photos in that first batch shows up among the top search results for images of skinny dipping. Those “modest” shots will probably be more widely circulated than any that happen to include my penis. That’s fine. I feel no particular urge to show my unimpressive endowment, but ideally I’d prefer that the media felt no need to treat it differently from the rest of me. One of my core beliefs is that none of our body parts should have to be hidden in the name of so-called decency.
Very recently, I was completing paperwork for a routine surgery. The legal disclosures mentioned the possibility of death, and that got me thinking. I’d made arrangements for my worldly assets, but had never seriously considered my legacy as a nudist. If I manage to leave any worthwhile pro-nudity statement at all, it will be largely in the digital photographic record of my life in the nude. What if my survivors decide to delete the photos? What if the website hosting them disappears? Wouldn’t it be better to send my pictures out into the world sooner than later, even if it means risking more exposure than I’m prepared for?
After decades of trying unsuccessfully to micromanage the use of my photos, my attitude has completely changed; I now believe that having them widely shared might be a small but positive contribution to future nudists and those interested in normalizing nudity. I’ve been inspired and emboldened by photos of others, so adding my own to the pool is a way of paying it forward. If some viewers interpret my nudity as lewd or pervy, so be it. Others will understand, seeing the freedom of a rather average man finding self acceptance in his default state. My photos might possibly change a few minds. In any case, the deed is done; I’ve set many (but not all) of my pictures free from their previous status of “all right reserved.” Here’s hoping people will use them kindly. 🪐
I absofreakinglutely adore Andy.
Thank you for sharing your story and your photos.