Last year I stayed with a Kiwi friend in Bilbao, Spain. We walked along the coast one day basking in the heat of a European summer. We spotted a beach and headed down to cool off.
Public nudity has been legal in Spain since 1988. So stripping down, we ran laughing into the ocean’s chilly arms, completely nude. In broad daylight, surrounded by people of all ages.
I think the last time I’d been nude in public, other than a few cheeky night skinny dips, was when I was a toddler and it was still acceptable to run around buns out with no care in the world. I was nervous about stripping completely, but the striking confidence of my Kiwi friend and the blasé carefree attitude of our Austrian friend made me realise that I’d regret it if I didn’t bare all and join them.
It was so freeing to feel my boobs jiggling as I giggled down to the ocean. And it was refreshing how normal it was; no one looked our way, stared or ogled. The beach was a colourful array of beach towels, bikinis and different-shaped bodies. Gorgeous women of all ages strutting their stuff, cellulite, different-sized boobs and all. They were confident and perfect, just the way they are.
Being naked in public and not worrying about people gawping or sexualising me, reminded me of Madeline Anello-Kitzmiller, who was groped while she was walking topless at Rhythm and Vines in 2017/18. In festival fashion, she’d covered up her boobs in rainbow glitter, a trend seen all over the world.
After the incident, Madeline spoke out saying she had received backlash that day for her outfit, or lack thereof. People, of all genders, told her she was disgusting and that she was “asking for it”.
There remains a shame and stigma around bodies in New Zealand. Showing skin seems to involve a continued uneven balance of confidence and sexual empowerment vs. battling with being sexualised. There is a weird air telling us that our naked body is unacceptable.
I think it was brave of Madeline to be proud to share her skin with the world. Just because we’re proud to show off our bodies, does not mean we want to be touched.
Adopted Kiwi Molly Foster, also known as DJ Elipsa, recently spoke out on Instagram after some men in the crowd called out during one of her sets, asking her to twerk for them. Foster is proud of her body and loves to wear short skirts and crop tops. I’m the same; I love the freedom that a gig provides to wear something black, slinky and sexy.
But her discussion raised an interesting point: how can we balance wanting to look sexy, to feel good in our bodies, without being sexualised?
Even fully dressed, women often worry about being harassed. Yet there I was, fully naked on a beach in Spain and all I felt was respect in a culture of consent. Feeling so free made me realise that there’s a different way to approach bodies and nudity. It’s really not that big a deal.
Following that European summer, I spent the winter living in a cosy skiing village in Japan called Nozawa Onsen, nestled in a valley with the Japanese Alps guarding every horizon. It is famous for its 13 free onsen; hot springs where you can bathe and relax. Adhering to etiquette is crucial. You must take your shoes off before entering the onsen room. You must tie your hair up. And you must be naked.
Every afternoon, after spending my day outside ski instructing in freezing temperatures (one day I wore nine layers), I’d head to the onsen to defrost. In Japan, most onsen are separated by gender and my favourite was always shared by Nozawa Onsen locals, from obachan (grandmothers) to younger women with their babies.
One day I noticed two obachan taking turns washing each other's backs. Their bodies were maps of all they’d loved, seen and experienced. Smile crinkles around their eyes. Scars and nicks. Freckles and moles. Wobbly bits. They weren’t embarrassed, or squeezing their love handles in disappointment. They were laughing and simply enjoying each other’s company.
Getting nude is not only a powerful way to normalise loving your own body but it also helps people realise there’s absolutely nothing to gape over. Being naked in front of others makes you realise that bodies are just bodies, and they come in all different shapes and sizes. You don’t need to be sexualised or demonised for showing some skin. And there’s no “ideal” body we need to aspire to have.
These small but sacred experiences in the nudey made me feel grateful that I have this amazing little home that comes with me wherever I am. It allows me to climb mountains to see incredible views, wrap my arms around the people I love, to dance in a sweaty mosh.
There are around 60 nudist locations in New Zealand, according to Google Maps. And there’s actually no law that prevents nudity in a public place (so long as it’s not offensive or disorderly). So let this be your sign to get out of your head and into your body. At that next body of water you pass, dive in, nudey style (it’ll be especially refreshing in the depths of winter). Let’s get to know our bodies more, so we can appreciate ourselves more.
