How The German Love for Being Naked Has Helped Me Accept Myself
There’s nothing inherently sexual about nudity, and learning to separate the two is key to a more relaxed relationship with our bodies
— Ohmygod, have you been to the saunas here? They’re all naked, men and women together! — Wow, really? That’s totally cray, dude!
I’ve heard this typical ‘new American ex-pat conversation’ many times on the streets of Berlin, and it always makes me smile to myself. People get naked here, and they don’t give a damn. Nuts, right? Welcome to the land of the (unabashedly) free!
Now, nudity is one of the most natural and normal things to me, but I wasn’t always this relaxed. When I arrived in Germany almost 12 years ago, I wasn’t all that different from the ex-pats in the conversation above; in awe, yet apprehensively curious. Sure, having grown up in Scandinavia where the attitudes towards nudity are less contrived, I wasn’t a ‘prude’, but, I had a far way to go to match the attitudes of my new countrymen and women.
Where I’m from we sauna naked, but in gendered saunas only, and, whenever mixed we keep our bathing suits on. We have nude beaches, but they’re secluded, and only dedicated nudists go there—and we all know those people are a bit weird. I grew up skinny dipping with my cousin in the lake by our family cabin, but only in the company of other girls and women. Nudity isn’t taboo, by far, but we’re more modest and usually keep it segregated.
The first time I went to a sauna here, my then-boyfriend and I showed up bathing suit-clad only to be yelled at by a security guard who made us strip down to our birthday suits, shamefully, under the frowning gazes of the more seasoned guests. We proceeded to shyly wrap our towels around our privates and carried on.
The rest of the clientele were butt naked and didn’t seem to mind. Men conversed carelessly with their legs spread and their junk dangling freely. Women sauntered around, swaying breasts and all. Young and old, big and small, pregnant ladies and dad-bods, teens, and grannies; no one gave a (rats) ass, and, simultaneously, no one stared either. There was nothing sexual about the atmosphere, just a bunch of bodies hanging out for a bit of mid-week self-care. Nothing to see here.
At the end of our first spa-day, my ex and I were pretty chilled-out too. When no one else was bothered by our nakedness, why should we be?
Going to a lake here for the first time, I observed similar things: People were naked if they wanted to, while others remained covered. It didn’t seem to matter much and no one batted an eye when someone disrobed outside designated areas. City parks proved to obey by the same rules and it’s not uncommon to come across a field of naked butts on your Sunday stroll. No big deal.
I remember hearing about this as a kid when visiting Grand Canaria with my family and the tourist guide warmed us that if we went to the Maspalomas desert we’d likely find naked Germans behind every sand dune. My pre-teen self dreaded the idea of being confronted by the unwelcome sight of sunburned bodies in the wild and was happy when we decided against the excursion.
After moving here I learned that Germans were undeniably lax about covering themselves in public, and while I quickly adjusted to the local sauna etiquette, where the only strict rule is “kein Schweiß auf Holz!” (no sweat on the wood!), it took me almost a decade to feel as comfortable with baring it all in public as the average Deutchländer.
The urge to undress runs deep in German culture and the Freikoerperkultur (FKK) or Free Body Culture has a history that dates back to the late 19th Century when nude swimming and sunbathing were viewed as routes to health and fitness. An article in CNN Travel tells me that the first official nude beach was opened in North Germany in 1920 and a decade later, the Berlin School of Nudism was founded, which encouraged mixed-sex open-air exercises and hosted the first international nudity congress.
Nazi Germany was, not surprisingly, less enthused about public nudity and claimed the scene was a “breeding ground for Marxists and homosexuals,” but soon after the end of WWII the Germans returned to their native buff. And though nudism was particularly popular in East Germany (The GDR) where “it was considered a form of escape from the uniforms, marches, and conformity of the communist state,” it was, in fact, nudity that united a country that was otherwise separated by the iron curtain.
Today about 600,000 Germans registered in more than 300 private FKK clubs, and even more seem to enjoy a bit of public deshabille.
It was first this summer, when visiting my family in Oslo, that I realized that my attitudes had become more German than Norwegian on this front.
First, before arriving, I double-checked the local rules for public nudity, knowing that I and my French partner, who’s also dropped his inhibitions in favor of German preferences, would definitely want to omit the extra fabric if the situation allowed. Turns out, my homeland doesn’t shun some bare skin either, as long as you’re somewhat discreet and don’t bother anyone.
Obviously, we behaved decently (except when we were all alone off the beaten path, which I’ll likely write about another time), but, here I was, sunbathing au natural between the rocks by the beach of my hometown, just like those unruly Germans I’d feared as a kid on holiday.
Somewhere over the last half-decade, I have finally learned to be easy-breezy comfortable in my own naked body. During this time, I’ve also become a mother, then newly-single and more sexually liberated, and, I’ve crossed the mid-thirties mark—all of which have contributed to my heightened self-esteem. Still, above all, I thank the liberated German mindset for granting me this aloofness around nakedness.
Their perspective has helped me see that nudity doesn’t have to connote ‘sexy’ and vice versa. I’ve learned that my body is just a body — as are we all. We arrived this way onto this earth and we’ll leave it just the same, thus naked is our most natural state. Our bodies are, first and foremost, the vessels that hold our spirits; they are tools for pleasures and enjoyments, which are far more than sexual in nature. We should be free to shamelessly enjoy sensual pleasures, which are not synonymous with sexual, such as the feeling of warm sun rays on our bodies or cool water caressing our bare skin.
There are times and places for clothes, of course, and, I too, wear them most of the time. Still, I’ve come to accept my own nakedness as I have others’.
Since becoming progressively more comfortable, I’ve allowed myself to do nude photoshoots in the middle of the city, in nature, as well as in intimate settings with photographers I only know platonically. I skinny-dip whenever I have the chance to and I don’t care who sees when I change.
This doesn’t mean that I’m 100% happy with myself and my body all of the time. I still have insecurities and doubts, and I have days where I don’t feel confident at all. The difference is that I stopped caring so much about what others may think of me, and instead, my main concern is the comfort levels of the people around me, and the etiquette of the place where I am at.
I’m grateful to the German ‘Free Body Culture’ for allowing me this freedom to cherish the gift that my body is — with its flaws and imperfections. This is my body and I will enjoy it, celebrate it and let it bring me joy and pleasure as it is meant to do.
