![]() I had Catholic friends who weren’t allowed to wear skirts without tights, and I grew up seeing Muslim girlfriends have to sit out swim requirements for gym class. I was told stories of how conservative my North Macedonian grandfather was - not letting my mother take ballet because the outfits would expose too much of her body - and it was common to still see women cover their hair at my family’s Eastern Orthodox church’s Sunday service. Being from a diverse community within Metro-Detroit, I realized that this very differentiation wasn’t limited to any single social sphere, culture or religion. life, and because of this, we’ve been conditioned to believe that male and female bodies and attire require different rules. The author's husband, Javi, in Cala del Toro, Parque Natural Cabo de Gata.Īn overwhelming Puritan perspective on female bodies has permeated all aspects of U.S. Compared to them, I felt like I’d been raised in a Nathaniel Hawthorne novel, taught to be ashamed and required to cover up. I also began to feel slightly envious of them, especially the children and even Javi, having grown up exposed to such de-objectifying and natural views of the human body. Yet, no matter how empowered I wanted to feel, I was unsettled at the thought of being totally naked outdoors in front of other people, even this man with whom I’d been intimate for months.Īs we passed these fellow beachgoers, I tried to be respectful - keeping my glances on their faces and offering quiet holas - in hopes of maintaining the integrity of their intimacy. ![]() I thought I was progressive and, undoubtedly, a feminist. But I wasn’t prepared for how actually being in the situation would make me feel. I had read about naturist-friendly beaches before moving to Spain, and, on paper, the idea of being able to let my lady bits see the light of day without being catcalled, judged or ticketed was liberating. A bit further on, we passed parents with their children - all of whom, regardless of sex, were also in their birthday suits. Then, about 20 meters and a large rock formation later, a second couple. Then, without signs to alert us that we’d entered a different area of the beach and without any real physical separation from the rest of the crowd, we came across a couple in the nude. There were kids building castles of their own while their parents relaxed under umbrellas, girlfriends laughing together, and friends playing paddle ball, diving into the water after failed shots. I realized I hadn’t brought a bikini, but before I could get bummed, Javi reassured me that where we were headed, proper footwear would be more important than a swimsuit.Īs we made our way to the shoreline, the happiness there was palpable. As I looked out, I saw half a mile of virgin sand, giant rock formations jutting out of the crystal-clear Mediterranean sea, and a centuries-old castle, as golden as the ground it stood on. Previously home to the Nasrid Dynasty, the Roman Empire, and even prehistoric populations, it had recently been named a natural park to protect the land from tourism-driven over-development, and the way Javi described the beaches and coves, they sounded both spectacular and sacred.Īfter a long and bumpy ride on an unpaved road, we finally arrived at the most breathtaking beach I’d ever seen. As we drove by old ruins overgrown with olive trees, he told me what he knew about the area. Javi was showing me yet another one of the hidden gems of his Andalusian home, taking me through volcanic mountains and whitewashed towns along the southern coast. ![]() ![]() The author in Parque Natural Cabo de Gata.
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