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How Nudism And Naturism Inform My Feminism

The first time I experienced the sublime freedom of nudism, I was on a beach in Corsica with a co-ed group of friends. The night was quiet, the air was warm—the sky was lit with thousands of stars. We were entirely alone, lying on the sand, when suddenly we decided to go for a midnight swim.

We didn’t try to hide anything, or steal glances at one another’s bodies. We simply enjoyed the moment, peeling off our clothes before jumping into the water beneath the moonlight. It felt, in a word, natural—like something we had always done and would continue to do. It felt euphoric.

I kept the experience to myself for a while, until one day I told a friend how the moment made me feel, and—to my surprise—she informed me that she was visiting her grandparents every year at a naturist camp in Spain.

Thus began my foray into naturism.

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2 thoughts on “How Nudism And Naturism Inform My Feminism

  1. Reblogged this on PenguinLove and commented:

    I love this piece. And one of several lines that really landed for me:

    “We’re still striving to allow people the fundamental right to be naked, banish body censorship, and remind society the value of the human body—remind ourselves that we’ve forgotten what that even means.”

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