Stripping Shells with Sisters

Living in a time that seems dire and down right lonely some days, I’m reflecting on past times where feminine liberation was shared among sisters. Whilst I may be blessed to have been “forced” to move back home and back with my partner, I can’t help but yearn for the care free liberators of nude empowerment movements.

This was photo taken after a feminine power workshop in Melbourne. To get there I had to take a two our train ride in a cabin that was filled to its capacity. I sat two different fellow passengers who’d sat next to me during the trip. One got off half way and the other took his place, she too was getting off at Southern Cross Station. People buzzed with places to go and people to meet. The smell of coffee and toasted sandwiches oozed from cafe’s in the station. I miss this ambiguity of a city. Not only have a moved home back to a much smaller country town, but I now see the same people everyday. We all know what each other is doing - not much all. Covid times are being referred to as crazy times, on the contrary. Times are simpler now, slower. I miss the crazy times. I miss not knowing the people who pass me on the street, or in a bustling train station.

This Fempowerment Workshop was held for the everyday girl. Any women who was wanting to explore the different layers of vulnerability in a safe and sensual environment. Think nude yoga, secrets shared and flower mandala creations. I say sensual because it involved all the human senses. Some of which we’re being denied the full use of during these Covid times. When was the last time you sweat in a yoga class, or seen someone new and nude (in the flesh), or held a sister as she cried a lifetime of suppressed uncertainties? To feel on all levels, and to be in a room with this many beautiful people, is sadly deemed unsanitary at these times. The rawest of all human conditions; social beings in our birthday suits, and we’ve had this stripped away.

Something that Covid has inflicted upon the vast majority of people is an anxiety. The feeling to cooperate - to fall in line. This is all in order to protect the human race, and rightly so. I still find my rebellious feminine, craving the movement which felt in this workshop, as it was gained momentum in the larger community, a divine spiritual movement.

Cooking in the nude solo just doesn’t have the same impact as a gathering of sisters does. Not to mention it’s winter here now and I may need to convince myself its a great idea. We danced naked freely with our eyes wide shut. Our eyes were closed to help us go inward, to not concern ourselves with what others were doing. An intentional instruction when you consider how influenced we are, how influential you are.

I can’t help but feel this is how we wander around now - eyes wide shut. When will these puppet strings be cut so we can dance naked together again?! More than anything it’s the confidence, freedom of true expression, and meeting of genuine people that I crave. The de-sexualisation and removal of clothes, the removal of censorship - nude doesn’t always mean sex people! this is what I miss. With so much conflicting ideologies of the madness I cant help but feel we’re all being censored. From what I’m not sure. I do feel like a naughty child who’s been told to sit in the corner and look at the wall. No friends to play with and no dinner before bed.

Gatherings with sisters, creating and feeling. The removal of clothes is the rawest of all symbolism there is, not just for women (I see your guys, no need to be shy). It serves as a catalyst to feel okay in our vulnerabilities. These lessons are some I’ve carried with me, which have proven especially useful in times like these - dire straits. Covid has asked us to retreat inside, inside our shells, to hide from the world and everyone in it. This workshop was a workshop on how to do the exact opposite. Remove the shell! Be free! One day we will be - again.