My naked crisis: Anonymity vs. Intimacy

Yesterday, I took an impromptu adventure up to Manhattan for a Jivamukti yoga class and to conduct an interview for Project Inkblot. The BoltBus dropped me where it does, in some super west-side industrial waste land. I walked the long avenue blocks back to downtown-bound subways. I recalled the shower in an open changing room at the Jivamukti studio. My Puritanical self has been often scandalized by the easy nudity in that space. Towel in bag, I vowed that today I would be Bohemian. European. Naked. I began imagining myself confidently shedding it all. Showers in use? No worries. I'll just wait here, naked.

If you know me at all you know this bravado is straight fiction. My husband calls me a prude. Unfortunately, I'm a WASP. I come by it naturally. Sometimes I try to fake like I'm OK with skin. I've hung with friends who are truly comfortable in various states of undress and pretended that I wasn't internally freaking out. (What do I do with my eyes? I saw nipple! Does this friend now think that I want to get with them? What does this mean for our friendship? Fuck! Put on clothes! I can't handle this!)

I realized that I would try on this mature, comfortable, body-positive identity in a space where I was completely anonymous. If I tried to pull this at home, where I'm known, obviously I'd be encouraged, but it'd also be understood that as of now this is all an effort for me. I'm known. Through time and engagement, I've developed intimacy in many relationships.

Ah. Anonymity vs. intimacy. I'm largely anonymous in the Jivamukti studio. I'm less self-conscious about my yoga practice because I have no expectation of seeing many of my classmates or the teacher ever again. I can parade around naked in the changing room because there's no follow-up to the (non)event.

My brazen self is bold without consequence. Bravery is being open to accountability.

I've begun to realize the depth of intimacy; probably because I've only recently experienced the longevity and commitment it takes to create it. It's fucking terrifying. I always heard talk about commitment-phobes or folks who run from long-term relationships. As a serial monogamist, I really didn't understand. I am a serial monogamist who's only held long-term relationships, but I withhold plenty. At a certain point, if the relationship is functional, you have to reveal more. You become more transparent to your partner (or friend or family member) and in that mirror, more known to yourself. Jesus. Who needs that? Let me pretend to be a body-positive dancer as I shed my clothes in front of these strangers.

I've never had a hard time being bold when the stakes are low. Thankfully, I largely came of age before lots of internet, cell phones, and social media. We were untraceable! I had no problem introducing myself to someone who intrigued me as a friend or potential date. If they said no, I'd never see them again. But being naked in front of close friends who know and love me? Now that's just crazy talk.

I'm increasingly drawn to situations that necessitate intimacy. Low population communities where you have less choice for relationships. Being interdependent financially and socially. I'm not saying that I'm always happy in these situations, but I'm stimulated. I start to understand my own resistance better. I think about how privacy is often culturally constructed. I think about the potential freedom of being truly seen.