THE
IMPORTANCE OF BEING NUDE
Edited version published: Frankie #26 (Nov/Dec 2008)
Swimming lessons were compulsory at my primary school. Back in
Year 4, after I’d changed into my boy-sized speedos, I’d take
my usual place in Lane 6 of the pool. Lane 6 was reserved for the for
the physically compromised: the girl with childhood arthritis; the rotund,
androgynous blob with inverted nipples; and me. None of us could swim
25 metres without clutching the side desperately, the way drowning people
hold onto the floating debris of a sinking ship.
As horrible as the swimming lessons were, worst still were the changing
rooms. Stripping out of clothes; showering next to one another with your
junk flailing about: it just felt wrong. And it felt more wrong in the
company of your teacher. “Dude,” my friend James whispered
to us. “Check out Mr Seidel’s dick.” Each of us turned
discreetly, only to be faced with a monstrous, veiny rope of meat hanging
between Mr Seidel’s legs. It made us all self-conscious. Eventually,
I would just leave my soggy togs on, as let them seep into my school trousers
for the rest of the afternoon.
Considering all my childhood shame surrounding communal nudity, it surprised
me how easily I took to Japanese onsen. Onsen are the country’s
traditional baths, where mineral-rich warm water is pumped from springs,
into a series of shared plunge-pools. Men and women are separated into
their own sections, but everyone is stark naked.
We discussed going as a family. My brother Andrew refused. “No way
I’m going to bathe where some guy’s diseased arse-flaps have
just been,” he said. “What if someone’s just taken a
dump in the water? Has anyone thought about that?” Running with
Andrew’s logic, our eldest sister and mother also refused. So with
some trepidation, it was up to me and my two younger sisters, Tammy and
Michelle.
At the onsen, you’re given a few things: a small towel—just
enough to cover your genitals—and a locker key. After my sisters
and I parted company to strip down in the change rooms, I started to fret.
Undressing in a locker room is one thing; remaining naked and strolling
around is another. Plus, if you’re a homosexual, your concerns are
less about shame, and more about the fear of getting a massive erection.
But after only 20 seconds of scrubbing my naked body next to strangers,
I soon realised the whole onsen thing was a distinctly non-erotic, almost
family-oriented affair. It was the weekend, and elderly men were taking
a break from their retirement homes, young white-collar dads had their
toddlers on hand, and loud gangs of naked 13-year-olds strutted up and
down, joking with each other. After an hour or so, it seemed completely
normal—necessary, even—to watch Japanese variety shows, in
a sauna hot enough to stew your face, surrounded by wet, flaccid penises.
Visiting the onsen confirmed some universal sentiments to me, which could
be expressed in positive, body-affirming slogans like, “Without
our clothes, everyone looks the same underneath,” or “All
penises look like space aliens.” It was supremely relaxing too.
It was like being on general anaesthetic, except amongst nature, and in
a wooden bath.
Lying there, happily nude in the middle of a Japanese heatwave, I realised
we’ve got the wrong idea about nudity. Somehow, it’s normal
here to see music videos of gyrating women, shaved to an inch of their
life. But a quick glimpse of penis or vagina with pubic hair in a European
movie? How shocking. How edgy. Here, we’ve only got a few options
in how to react to the naked body: be aroused, be amused, or be repulsed.
Boo to that.
Later, my sisters and I reconvened in the onsen’s communal area,
wearing yukata robes. For them, the onsen was always going to be a more
awkward experience—they hadn’t seen one another nude since
they were kids. Naturally, it turned out to be a shame-free bonding experience.
“I’ve discovered Tammy has a really nice pussy,” Michelle
said. “Well Michelle definitely has nicer tits,” Tammy added.
“They’re bigger too.” At that point, I was glad Andrew
hadn’t joined me. Because as much as I’m pro-nudity nowadays,
I don’t think I could have complimented my brother’s wang.
I have boundaries, you know.
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