Owning My Nakedness (& my blood)

A real article by a very with it woman

Esther Bunting

There is a photo of me as a child aged about 5, walking in a field of long grass on a Summer’s day with my Dad. It would have been around 1982. I’m smiling and very much in a happy place. I’m also naked. Dad isn’t, but that hadn’t seemed odd at the time. His hair is a bit wild and beard looking very 70s, the way I remember him when I was young. Hair-wise, he has returned to a similar state since lockdown, but that’s another story. The point is, I was naked and free, and without a sense of shame. How very fortunate in all sorts of ways. An image like that now can provoke hysteria in the media or just in people’s heads, such is the cultural taboo firstly around any kind of nakedness, but much more than that, a child’s nakedness. Innocence has been removed/hidden/safeguarded. It…

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2 thoughts on “Owning My Nakedness (& my blood)”

  1. I remember being nude around the house which was small with one bathroom. I was about 7 & my dad had died so it was just me & mom. We both would be naked in the bathroom as one would shower & the other use the facilities when nature called. We would be nude in & out of our bedrooms. Nude was normal then & now for me, my wife & some friends. I thanks my mom for giving me this freedom to be human.

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