The clothing was optional and the views were stunning. Of the lake, that is. Otherwise, there wasn’t much to see. Some old man sacks, saggy boobs, and a bush in the distance.
The scene did make me wonder. Are clothes an implement of oppression?
I began verbalizing my thoughts to Abby.
“It’s like in the Wizard of Oz. Behind the veil of power is a weak old man. Imagine trying to lead a country with your privates out in the open for all to see. I think dress codes are designed to discriminate.”
“What about for safety?” Abby responded.
“Like to wear safety gear to go mountain biking? That’s a choice.”
“No, not like that,” Abby continued. “Like closed toe shoes, scrubs, and sterile gloves.”
“Yeah. That makes sense. A uniform.”
I have a philosophy for life I call the baseball cap theory. Sometimes, baseball caps are a required part of a uniform. If you are not wearing it, you can’t play. Other times, baseball caps are prohibited. Like at grandma’s dining room table. Wear the hat and no pasta for you.
But most places, the hat is optional.
I find these paradoxical rules everywhere in life.
“Regular, everyday dress codes, though. I do think these are implements of oppression.”
A wealthy man can easily tell who else is rich by the brand of their suit and if it’s been professionally cleaned and pressed. Meanwhile, the poor man spends money he doesn’t have to attain a suit he can’t afford, just to fit in. He’s not fooling anyone.
Any why should he?
I can only guess the same applies to women’s dress. I’m just in no position to guess.
Regardless of sex, I’ve always considered formal attire to be an implement of oppression. But here on this beach, I realized that maybe most regular, everyday societal clothing norms are equally oppressive.
Abby’s a nurse and my wife, and the clothing optional scene didn’t seem to phase her. She said, “I’ve seen so many naked people. A body is a body. They are all humans.”
Now, let me paint the picture of this clothing optional beach for you a little more clearly, before you start imagining g-string bikini bottoms only on the French Riviera.
We were on the south end of Lake Willoughby, a family friendly spot in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont. Every age of human was on this beach. Infants in mothers arms. Young kid and pre-teens snacking on sandwiches after a morning of mountain biking camp. The tweens and high schoolers who are the camp counselors. College age kids, young adults, middle aged adults, and people north of seventy.
Nothing on this beach was dressed up, except for the clothing optional people opting for clothing. The lake water was clear to the rocks at the bottom. The dogs ran free. Birds, bugs, squirrels, and chipmunks played about.
The animals were free. Some humans were too. Most were clothed. I, for one, felt oppressed.
DiMeo Unfiltered is my back of the napkin publication featuring half-baked concepts, works in progress, blog-like posts, and personal opinions. This space is raw, authentic, and self-published.
Thank you for reading.
Health, happiness, kindness, respect
for every being and all things.
— Andrew
