Stripping Down to Embody Wholeness

Learning about a women-only pop-up strip show reminds me of the delight in removing layers

Occasionally, I’ll google a term in the sensuality space out of curiosity and/or boredom, usually derived from the wish I was closer to certain sex-exploratory collectives or support networks.

Recently, I’ve been intrigued by surrogate partner sex therapy, yoni/tantric massage, finding the matching pieces for sets of vintage Victoria’s Secret lingerie, masturbation parties, and examples of social (consensual, of course) nudity, such as this exhibit in Marseille, France.

This week I came across the provocative efforts of Caitlin Erica who was featured in Australia’s Time Out. In July 2023, the publication interviewed her about starting Strip Her, a women-only pop-up strip show. Like many women, she came from a place of body and sexual shame. Through her work as a doula and stripper, she became empowered and liberated by reclaiming her femininity and sexuality, accompanied by the appreciation of diverse body types and life stages. Strip Her came to fruition as a safe place for women to release expectations of sexual transaction and freely express themselves in the nude.

I could identify with this from my religious background and struggling with body ownership. Caitlin states it perfectly:

Shame and fear keep us from owning ourselves fully. I find women who, like myself, grew up in religious families, have a lot to unravel. Religion puts one’s authority outside of themselves; it teaches us to distrust the body and its desires. We end up living life doing what we "should" or "shouldn’t" do according to some external force, instead of going within and trusting the body. What I do with Strip Her, both the course and the pop-up event, is help women to strip away their conditioning until they’re left with themselves.

At first, women feel a little shy or intimidated but soon enough they’re “crawling around like kittens, caressing each other with roses and giving each other lap dances…We’ve also had a couple of pregnant women take to the stage and the crowd went absolutely wild for that. That was really inspiring.”

(Take a look at Strip Her’s Instagram for a sneak peak.)

I’m so thankful for the people out there dismantling restrictive norms regarding body autonomy, sensuality, and nudity. When I talk to other women about initiatives like this, I usually get bulging eyes and a “hell no, not me.”

It can be a lonely space where I’m the one excited to be the guinea pig on such a vulnerable learning path, but I do encounter women who admire my confidence.

I believe endeavors like Strip Her seem scary or “not for me” for many women because of the preoccupation of other-ness. The focus is on how I will be perceived, the weight of others. This isn’t just in the sensual space but in everything: work, writing, parenting, child-ing (especially as an adult to your older parents), friendships, etc.

If I can check off this box, this box, this box, and this box, maybe I’ll be ready for literal or figurative exposure and/or freedom.

No matter how much we deny it, we are obsessed with “living life doing what we ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ do according to some external force, instead of going within and trusting the body.”

We all have lists of dreams or wants, but we easily apply the brakes when we factor in others.

For me, especially coming from a church background where I was told I didn’t own my body but it belonged to God, but it seemed what other people (men, specifically) thought about my body took precedent, nudity delivered ultimate vulnerability, peace, and freedom. There’s nothing to hide in nakedness, our purest and seminal state.

And it’s here, at this cornerstone, where my bravery blossomed when I took scantily clad selfies, started burlesque, and went to a nude retreat.

If you can feel comfortable in your bare fleshly scaffolding, you basically inherit the superpower of not GAF.

So I’m always looking for more opportunities to strengthen my assurance of body ownership, and I’m intrigued by and admire those women who gain much by removing much on their terms.

An unraveling that doesn’t mean we’re unhinged or “out of control.”

It’s the opposite, an unraveling where we’re more put together, holistically soldered, and made whole by delightful shedding.

It’s like taking apart a complex machine to appreciate the intricacies that allow it to do magnificent work we take for granted day-after-day.

The marks of past injury, annals of life pushed to the limit.

My dips and indentions that I swear hold pockets of my stubborn nature.

The precise way I pleasure myself and indulge in my aroma and taste.

I wield great power when I am stark and splayed.

There’s no other place to hide, no filters, no censors, and it feels refreshing.