I went to my first nudist parade last year. It was a naked bike ride in Victoria protesting carbon gas emissions… at least I think that’s what it was for. The truth is, I just thought yelling in front of our government legislature completely nude was a great idea, no matter what it was for. That said, I certainly agreed that polluting the environment and failing to invest in sustainability was wrong, but I was too absorbed in chanting, “Less gas! More ass!” to deeply consider the political implications right then and there.
What I was considering, though, was how amazing it felt to be naked, not only having the wind breeze through places you’d never felt wind before, but also the beauty of vulnerability exposed, of joining together in an indescribable unity. There was something about the freedom that came over us in those moments of being absolutely butt-naked with strangers, a passion for something bigger than each of us and our petty images of ourselves.
We rode our bicycles, scooters, and skateboards along a downtown route, calling out for passers-by to join us. Through the public streets we pedaled with grins immutably painted across our faces; even the girl who was painted entirely gold wore a bright wig and a smirk. Yes, the downtown horse-drawn carriage drivers rolled their eyes for being subjected to this view once every year. But people of all ages were all smiles as we received stares, laughs, and hoots of encouragement from surprised pedestrians.
I laughed the whole ride, all the while hoping a prestigious politician would come out of the legislature to see us, but no doubt they remained amused indoors. I can honestly say I have never seen that many naked people at once before and, scoff if you will, it was truly moving. I remember this experience today because we were unashamed, we were zealous, and we were free. Only in a place like Victoria could such a phenomenon occur in decent weather with decent people; that is the naked truth.