My experience after the Swimsuit-Free Day in Madrid and a reflection on freedom, the body, and the contradictions that still surround naturism.
Yesterday, the Swimsuit-Free Day was celebrated in one of Madrid’s swimming pools. And, like every year, the same comments, the same doubts, and the same fears appeared.
One of the comments that caught my attention the most was: “It’s fine, but there shouldn’t be children.” And I thought: why? Children are not born thinking that the human body is bad. They are not born being shocked by nudity. They are not born associating a naked body with something shameful or sexual. They learn that later. They learn it from adults. That is why I find it curious that many people believe the problem is the children, when in reality, it is usually the parents who have it.
We cannot change the mindset of entire generations overnight, but we can educate the new generations so that they grow up seeing the human body as something natural. And that does not mean forcing anyone to undress. Because here lies one of the biggest misconceptions about naturism.
The goal is not for everyone to go naked. The goal is for anyone to be able to choose. That you can go dressed if you feel like it. That you can go naked if you feel like it. And that neither option causes a scandal.
For me, naturism has never been about shame. I know that for some people it is, but that is not my case.
Since I was little, I grew up with a very natural relationship with my body. I never understood why I had to be ashamed of something that is part of me. And when you discover the feeling of the air on your skin, of the heat, of the rain, of the water, or simply being at home without unnecessary layers, you realize that many times nudity is not a protest, it is simply comfort, it is well-being and freedom.
That’s why it amuses me when I see people who consider themselves naturists one day a year, on an isolated beach or in an enclosed venue, but then hide that part of themselves from the rest of the world.
I am not saying this as a criticism. Each person lives their own process.
But I wonder what kind of naturism we are building if it only exists in secluded spaces and only for a few hours.
I myself live a contradiction that many naturist people know.
I have a father who still sees me as a little girl. Who still judges my decisions. Who considers things that are completely natural to me to be incorrect.
And even though I am an adult woman, even though I have financially helped my family and made important sacrifices for them, I still encounter limits that remind me that there are still people unable to understand this way of life.
That is why I know that the true barrier to naturism is not nudity. The true barrier is cultural. It is the gaze of others. It is the judgment. It is the idea that a naked body must be hidden. And there is something else that is almost never mentioned. If so many people consider themselves environmentalists, perhaps they should also reflect on the relationship between clothing and the environment.
The textile industry is one of the most polluting on the planet. It generates waste, labor exploitation, massive consumption of resources, and tons of synthetic materials that end up becoming garbage.
I am not saying we should stop wearing clothes. I am saying that perhaps we have normalized an excessive consumption that we rarely question. Clothing protects us when it is necessary. But outside of that necessity, how much do we use out of habit? How much out of fear of what people will say? Perhaps naturism also has something to teach us about sustainability, simplicity, and responsible consumption.
Therefore, rather than wondering when a society where everyone lives naked will arrive, I wonder when a society where each person can freely decide how they want to live their relationship with their body will arrive. Dressed or naked. Without fear. Without scandals.
And without anyone having to justify a choice as simple as feeling comfortable in their own skin.
Another contradiction also catches my attention: many people define themselves as naturists, but then, in their private lives, they do not dare to live as such.
Because it is one thing to practice naturism on a beach, in a specific pool, or in a space where everyone goes for the same purpose. And it is a completely different thing to claim it in your own home, in your own space, in front of your partner, your mother, your father, your children, or your roommates.
That is where the real struggle begins.
If you are a naturist, but in the place where you live you cannot be naked because someone in your environment does not understand it, then the conflict is not just outside. It is inside the house.
And I understand that each person has their circumstances. But I also believe there is a lot of hypocrisy when we defend naturism in safe spaces and then are unable to do so in our daily lives.
For me, naturism should not be something that is practiced only when no one you know is watching. It should not be a weekend, vacation, or closed-enclosure identity.
Naturism, if you truly feel it, is in you one hundred percent.
An that means there must also be uncomfortable conversations. You also have to fight against the family’s gaze. You also have to explain, set boundaries, and claim the right to live naturally in our own space.
Because if we are only naturists far from home, from family, and from the judgment of others, perhaps we are not transforming anything. We are only hiding our freedom in places where no one challenges us.
This is a personal reflection by Cris Blas on naturism, bodily freedom, and the contradictions that still exist when we try to live our relationship with the body naturally. Beyond nudity, true change involves questioning prejudices, educating from respect, and defending the right of each person to decide how they want to live, without fear of others’ judgment.
If you are interested in this type of reflection on naturism, conscious sexuality, well-being, and personal freedom, you can discover more articles on Cris Blas’s blog.
