ARTICLE IN PRESS

Health & Place 15 (2009) 439–446

Contents lists available at ScienceDirect

Health & Place

journal homepage: www.elsevier.com/locate/healthplace

Naturism and sexuality: Broadening our approach to sexual wellbeing

Glenn Smith a,, Michael King b,1
a
Royal Holloway, University of London, School of Management, Egham Hill, Egham, Surrey TW20 OEX, UK
b
Department of Mental Health Sciences, Royal Free and University College London, School of Medicine, Royal Free Campus, London, NW3 2PF, UK

a r t i c l e in fo abstract

Article history: This study aimed to investigate how people manage their sexuality when practicing naturism in the
Received 27 June 2007 United Kingdom (UK). Thirty-nine self-identified naturists from across the UK were interviewed.
Received in revised form Sexuality, when practicing naturism, was found often to be suppressed through the use of rules,
21 August 2008
geographical isolation and thoughts and behaviour. Some participants found ways of exploring and
Accepted 21 August 2008
enjoying their sexuality by keeping feelings hidden and/or seeking out more sympathetic naturist
environments. Naturist environments may offer a unique space in which to explore aspects of our
Keywords: sexuality that are currently pathologised, criminalised or commercialised. This has important
Naturism implications for sexual health policy and promotion.
Naturists
& 2008 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved.
Sexuality
Social nudity
Sexual health

Introduction
Social nudity has been associated historically with physical
and mental health, but its relationship to enhanced sexual
wellbeing has been more controversial (Ableman, 1993; Barcan,
2004). The relationship between social nudity and sexuality has a
long history from sexual rituals described in smoke saunas during
Pagan times, to the sexual activity that was synonymous with
Roman bathhouses (Sprawson, 1992). However, it was in Germany
in the 1870s that a definitive ideology of social nudity first arose
concerning its benefits for physical health and sexual wellbeing
(Toepfer, 1997). When social nudity was introduced into the
United Kingdom (UK) in the 1920s, the conservative sexual culture
of the time (Hall, 1999; Haste, 2002) meant that discussions about
the relationship between social nudity and sexual wellbeing were
limited to educating young people about the biological differences
between the sexes (Cook, 1994). Influential social nudists during
this period argued that social nudity was asexual (Parmelee, 1929;
Russell, 1981) and subsequent discourse on the relationship
between social nudity and sexuality in the UK became constrained
by a ‘procreative, familial, adult, heterosexual intercourse form of
sex to be equated with nature’ (Bell and Holliday, 2000). In turn,
this discourse replaced potentially erotic activities such as nude
 Corresponding author. Tel.: +44 7885 194 917.
E-mail addresses: Glenn.Smith@rhul.ac.uk (G. Smith), m.king@medsch.ucl.ac.uk
(M. King).
1
Tel: +44 207 830 2397.
gymnastics, dance and yoga that were popular in Germany with
activities that limited erotic movement and genital display. The
imposition of rules and regulations, as well as the isolation of many
official environments for social nudity from urban areas because
land was cheaper and public acceptance easier, forged a constrained
and somewhat clandestine image of social nudity (Cook, 1994).
This asexual and somewhat veiled attitude to the display of
social nudity has become the cultural basis of contemporary social
nudity—naturism—within the UK. It is a view that is commonly
held to this day by organisations who aim to represent the
practice of naturism within the UK and abroad. This asexual view
has even been reinforced in recent years in several naturist
beaches—such as Studland in Dorset—that have witnessed an
increase in police surveillance and official intervention in an effort
to eliminate any sign of sexual behaviour. Furthermore, revisions
were introduced to the Sexual Offences Act (2003) to clarify the
relationship between public nudity and sexual behaviour. These
legal changes were introduced on the basis of evidence that
victims of offences such as exhibitionism and voyeurism experi-
ence psychological trauma and that ‘minor’ sexual offences may
herald more serious sexual crimes.
Given this complex cultural, legal and political context, any
discussion about the relationship between social nudity and
sexuality remains largely taboo within naturism. Furthermore,
research on the potential impact of naturism on sexual wellbeing
is also limited and remains the preserve of a few, mostly historical,
studies by sociologists and psychologists (Bindrim, 1968, 1969;
Blank, 1969; Flugel, 1950; Lorand, 1933; Warren, 1933; Weinberg
and Rutgers, 1966), and its presence is completely ignored in

1353-8292/$ - see front matter & 2008 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved.
doi:10.1016/j.healthplace.2008.08.002
 ARTICLE IN PRESS
440 G. Smith, M. King / Health & Place 15 (2009) 439–446
contemporary health geography and work on sexual health policy
and promotion. The aim of this study was to further our
understanding of the relationship between naturism and sexuality
by exploring how individuals managed their sexual feelings and
thoughts when practicing social nudity in a variety of naturist
environments. Our intention was to provide evidence to inform
future debates over sexual behaviour within naturist environ-
ments, to generate further discussion about the impact of social
nudity on sexual wellbeing, and initiate further debate and
research about the role of social nudity in health by health
geographers.
A historical overview of naturism and naturist research
Early literature exploring the relationship between social
nudity and sexuality attempted to find essential psychological
and biological truths. In Germany, Nacktkultur literature contained
numerous articles discussing the eroticism of social nudity.
Prominent protagonists of social nudity argued that all body
culture contained eroticism and regarded social nudity as a
complex primal exchange of power between seen and seeing
bodies (Toepfer, 1997). Nackttanz (nude female dancing) and
athletic prowess for males were understood by some exponents of
Nacktkultur to be where social nudity and eroticism converged
(Toepfer, 1997). When the idea of social nudity arrived in the UK,
the eroticism of social nudity was not discussed. However, some
‘radical’ social nudists who were influential on early British
naturism, such as Dora Russell, Havelock Ellis and Maurice
Parmalee, encouraged debate about the educative benefits of
social nudity on the management of sexual feelings and
behaviour. They argued that it promoted greater acceptance of
the body, knowledge about reproduction, and better relationships
between the sexes.
The 1960s saw the emergence of literature that suggested that
the relationship between social nudity and sexuality was
dependent on the social, geographical and cultural context of
nudity. The American psychologists Paul Bindrim (1968, 1969) and
Leonard Blank (1969) were among the first to argue that the
relationship between social nudity and sexuality was defined by
its social context. They suggested that some people practicing
social nudity may hide their interest in sexuality, while others
may consciously or unconsciously repress their sexual feelings.
Yet they recognized that these explanations arose from the
popular assumption that nudity was invariably sexual. They
concluded that sexual arousal was therefore likely to be a learned
behavioural response to nudity in cultures that associated the
naked body with love making and hence sexual feelings and
behaviour. It was thought that exposure to nudity in different
social contexts may have allowed those practicing social nudity to
sever this link between the naked body and sexuality that is
present in mainstream culture.
A more sophisticated sociological argument was proposed by
Clarke (1982). He argued that social nudity does not in itself lead
to sexual encounters, nor that social nudity is necessarily sexually
motivated. He suggested instead that its practice contains strong
undercurrents of sexual stimulation and sexual associations. Thus,
environments in which people can be socially nude might provide
unique spaces not available in comparable clothed environments
in which to experience new and different sexual feelings, as well
as meet people interested in sexual exploration. However, one
important caveat remained, namely that sexual behaviour
remains within mainstream norms associated with sexual
behaviour such as sexual privacy. Nevertheless, Clarke was
unclear whether sexual thoughts and behaviour occurred in
naturist environments because people wanting sexual expression
sought such places out or whether the environment itself
encouraged them.
More recently, Toepfer (1997), Cook (1994) and Bell and
Holliday (2000) have used sexual discourse theory to highlight
how a variety of historical, social and geographical contexts have
influenced the perceived relationship between social nudity and
sexuality. For example, Toepfer (1997) writes that social nudity as
a concept originated in Germany during a period of rapid
industrialisation. In this historical and cultural context, social
nudity offered a way for people to re-establish a link between the
body and ‘nature’ and to revert to a more natural or primitive way
of living, while at the same time encouraging further discussions
about the relationship between nudity, sexuality and ‘nature.’
In a recent review of the debate over the relationship between
social nudity and sexuality, Barcan (2004) identifies four increas-
ingly liberal discourses found in naturism to manage sexuality.
These are: (1) a conservative discourse that discourages any link
with sexuality based on normative and often heterosexual values;
(2) a moderating discourse that encourages control and manage-
ment of sexual feelings and behaviour; (3) a sexological discourse
that emphasises the educative effect on relationships with the
opposite sex of seeing naked bodies in naturist environments;
and, (4) a pro-sexual discourse that acknowledges and celebrates
social nudity as an aspect of sexual experience and exploration.
The modern literature on naturism has therefore identified
that the relationship between nudity and sexuality is controlled
by particular sexual discourses which are dependent on the social,
spatial and cultural context. However, despite a growing post-
structuralist theoretical understanding of the relationship be-
tween naturism and sexuality as a discourse shaped by history,
culture and place, very little empirical research drawing on this
theoretical perspective has been undertaken (Barcan, 2004) and
none by health geographers. Questions remain about how
sexuality is managed within naturist environments and how
contemporary naturists manage their sexual feelings and
thoughts when socially nude in different environments. Questions
also remain about the potential benefits of social nudity on sexual
wellbeing and the implications of these benefits beyond naturism
for public health policy on sexual behaviour.
Naturism, sexual wellbeing and sexual health promotion
In the 1980s a growing body of research within medical
geography became interested with exploring psychosocial defini-
tions of ‘health’ and the ‘quality of life.’ Medical geographers such
as Cornwell (1984); Donovan (1986) and Eyles (1987) began to
investigate the context and experience of ‘health’ and ‘illness’,
thereby attempting to place ‘human experience’ at the forefront of
research within this sub-discipline of human geography. Kearns
(1993) took up this lack of attention to the human and social
experience of health and illness within medical geography in the
early 1990s. He argued for a post-medical geography of health, in
which a focus on people would replace the focus on disease and
medical intervention. According to Kearns, medical geography
should therefore become health geography, shifting its focus from
medically-defined disease and illness onto a social understanding
of health in which peoples’ ideas of health and illness would be
explored. Furthermore, he suggested that the interrelationships
that exist between society and space and the wider ideological
structural forces that influence the experience of health and
illness should become a feature of this new health geography.
Recently, several health geographers have begun to explore the
idea of wellbeing as part of that reinvention of ‘medical
geography’ as ‘health geography.’ They feel that by using the
concept of wellbeing to reflect the complexity of the experience of
 ARTICLE IN PRESS
G. Smith, M. King / Health & Place 15 (2009) 439–446
health they will be able to capture how social and spatial contexts
interact with the biophysical, social and psychological aspects of
our lives (Brown and Duncan, 2002). Focusing on wellbeing rather
than health therefore allows us to understand health as emanat-
ing from a wider social and environmental context (Fleuret and
Atkinson, 2007). It also enables health geographers to make
connections with other fields of inquiry within human geography
that may impact on the experience of health, such as research on
sexuality by geographers such as Bell and Valentine (1995) or
work on mental health (see for example, Wolch and Philo’s (2000)
review of research on mental health), in the process providing a
more sophisticated understanding of how different experiences of
health may interrelate. Furthermore, health geographers have
started to explore how ideas of wellbeing can be integrated into
public health policy (Brown and Duncan, 2002; Fleuret and
Atkinson, 2007).
However, defining wellbeing is difficult because of the many
social and spatial variables involved in its experience. It is argued
that only through using case studies that illustrate how wellbeing
is socially and spatially constructed in people’s lives will we have
a better understanding of what constitutes the experience (Fleuret
and Atkinson, 2007). We shall therefore return to the issue of
what constitutes or defines the experience of sexual wellbeing in
relation to naturism in the discussion after the analysis of the
participants’ experiences of social nudity.
Indeed, because of the difficulties in defining wellbeing we
have limited understanding of how it might be incorporated into
public health policy and more specifically health promotion, areas
that Brown and Duncan (2002) suggest have been dominated by
promotion of health behaviours—particularly sexual—that mini-
mise risk. Brown and Duncan (2002) and Fleuret and Atkinson
(2007) feel that health geographers are in a privileged position to
explore how the complex social and individual experiences of
health that constitute the experience of wellbeing may be
influenced by place and space and, in turn, use this knowledge
to inform the direction of better informed public health policy
that includes the experience of wellbeing. This study goes some
way to furthering our knowledge within and beyond health
geography of the relationship between naturism, naturist envir-
onments and sexual wellbeing and its implications for public
health policy on promoting sexual health.
Method
Ethics
Given the complex ethical and sexual issues involved in this
study, and that it was directed from an academic medical setting,
we sought ethical approval from the local NHS research ethics
committee. The committee, however, considered that the topic
was not within their ‘health’ research remit. Nevertheless, in order
to ensure ethical practice, all ethical and social issues were
discussed and agreed at regular research meetings. All partici-
pants were given comprehensive information sheets, after which
they gave written, informed consent to take part in the study. All
the material for publication was anonymised using pseudonyms
and changes were made to disguise identifying data. The principal
ethical tension in this research lay between the need for
confidentiality and freedom of speech and the possibility that
participants might report illegal activities. It was decided that if
participants started to give an account of sexual activity with a
third party that was abusive, harassing, or exploitative we would
terminate the interview and give a warning to them that any
further disclosure could be referred to the relevant authorities.
This did not occur.
441
The sample
A diverse sample of self-identified naturists were recruited
from across the UK through articles in several naturist magazines,
newsletters and posters within naturist clubs, naturist web-sites
and by word of mouth within the naturist ‘community.’ Six
women and thirty-three men, aged between 22 and 77 (mean 51,
SD 12.4), made contact before the recruitment deadline. Twenty
participants were married at the time of interview. No naturists
from Black and ethnic minority backgrounds came forward for
interview, while single women, people under the age of 30 and
disabled people were underrepresented, which may reflect the
prevalence of particular ‘social groups’ within contemporary
British naturism. GS’s male gender may have also influenced
who came forward for the interview.
The interviews
GS’s background in health geography and involvement in social
nudity, including dealing with his sexual feelings in naturist
environments and observing other naturists over eight years prior
to the study, was instrumental in developing and implementing
the method for this research. It was clear to him that the
relationship between social nudity and sexual feelings was for
himself and other people infinitely more complicated and subtle
than either government legislation or modern naturism acknowl-
edges. Neither extreme view—being nude is asexual or always
sexual—appeared to offer a helpful way forward in understanding
the range and fluidity of feelings of being socially nude in different
environments and how current conflicts around sexual behaviour
and naturism should be managed on some UK naturist beaches.
While GS’s insider status provided insight and direction for this
study, it also brought about several tensions and dilemmas in
conducting the research. Firstly, we felt that it was necessary that
participants had the choice of being nude during the interview to
allow them to continue their lifestyle uninterrupted by the
research process. They would also have the option for GS to be
nude in the interview. We believed that offering this option would
make some participants feel more comfortable if they wished to
be nude during the interview. In particular we were concerned to
avoid a nude interviewee feeling vulnerable being with a clothed
interviewer. Secondly, because the issue under discussion was the
relationship between sexuality and naturism we were aware that
some participants and even GS may actually enjoy the nudity
within the interview as erotic. Indeed, few researchers studying
sexuality empirically have written about how they managed their
own sexual feelings and those of participants during the research
process. Like Bain and Nash (2006), who researched the
sexualised environment of a lesbian bathhouse, GS dealt with
the presence of any sexual feelings in several ways; GS believed in
maintaining a professional position between the researched and
researcher. However, unlike Bain and Nash (2006) GS also had
experience of attending and feeling comfortable and relaxed in
eroticised (naturist) environments with and without clothes and
with and without engaging in sexual activity. GS was therefore
confident, comfortable and socially experienced in being present
in sexualised environments, and confident that any sexual
feelings—if they emerged during the interview—could be mana-
ged through using relaxed and neutral body language and words
that would maintain a professional position. Indeed, GS declined
the advances of one potential participant to take part in a
threesome with his partner, and declined to be nude for two other
participants. He suspected that the latter two requests may have
contained a hidden sexual agenda and might have placed him at
personal risk. During all interviews a friend or colleague would
 ARTICLE IN PRESS
442 G. Smith, M. King / Health & Place 15 (2009) 439–446
contact GS by mobile phone to ascertain his welfare and to show
the participant that other people knew of his whereabouts. The
third difficulty in conducting the interviews clothed or unclothed
was the potential risk of being falsely accused of a sexual crime.
However, we believed that the recorded interview would provide
evidence against this, as well as act as a deterrent to any
accusations of misconduct.
Seven interviews were conducted nude, of which the inter-
viewer was nude in five. Since this was an interview-based rather
than observational study it is not clear whether any differences in
the data exist between clothed and unclothed interviews. Such
conclusions could only be known if the interview was conducted
clothed and unclothed with the same interviewee. People
appeared to speak frankly whether clothed or unclothed, and this
would appear to have more to do with having the research
conducted by a researcher who is a naturist and who was willing
to research the relationship between sexuality and social nudity.
GS undertook in-depth, non-structured interviews with the
participants that explored their sexual feelings, thoughts and
experiences when practicing social nudity in different environ-
ments from when they began social nudity to the present. These
interviews were audiotaped and transcribed for qualitative
analysis.
Analysis
We analysed the narratives by breaking down the experience
of social nudity into different environments. Using these data we
identified four types of naturist environment that influenced how
participants managed the relationship between social nudity and
sexuality: (i) commercial naturist environments in which there are
entrance fees and where rules and regulations are used to manage
social nudity, such as naturist clubs or naturist spas; (ii) urban and
rural public environments such as urban areas and the countryside,
where social nudity, in the main, is not publicly acceptable; (iii)
beach environments such as official and unofficial naturist
beaches; (iv) personal environments such as the home and garden.
We then examined systematically each transcript section ascribed
to one of these naturist environments for themes relating to how
sexual feelings and thoughts were experienced and managed
when practicing social nudity within that environment. We then
assessed these themes according to Barcan’s (2004) discourses of
naturism. We extracted text segments accordingly using the
software package (NVivo). GS and MK undertook a series of
discussions about emerging themes to resolve discrepancies and
reach a consensus on the interpretation of texts. As suggested by
Coltrane (1994), where possible we have highlighted how gender
might influence participants’ views of the way in which they or
those managing naturist environments deal with sexual feelings
and behaviour.
Results
Commercial naturist environments—naturist clubs, naturist spas and
naturist swims at leisure centres
This section investigates how naturists managed their sexual
feelings within naturist environments where nudity is commer-
cially managed. These include naturist clubs, spas and naturist
swims at leisure centres.
Some young participants and those without personal transport
spoke of the difficulties of travelling to official naturist environ-
ments due to their geographical isolation:
I have no axe to grind with the clubs, but it would not be
practical to join the clubs as I can’t get to them. They are by
nature out in the middle of nowhere. Carl, 40s
Several single participants recalled difficulties obtaining access
to many official naturist environments:
I tried to join one local naturist club. Their policy was
effectively couples only. Peter, 30s
By discouraging single participants many commercial naturist
environments seemed to be attempting to minimise the likelihood
of unpredictable or unacceptable sexual feelings and behaviour.
Participants who obtained access to commercial naturist
environments often spoke of the strict rules concerning nude
behaviour:
My wife and I were dancing clothed, because naturist dances
are generally clothed. I took my glasses off so that we could get
our cheeks close and we got reprimanded by the Trustees for
that. This was 1994! James, 60s
Activities associated with the potential for sexual arousal were
discouraged and policed to maintain the asexual character of the
commercial naturist environment. However, several participants
spoke of a sexual sub-culture within some of these environments.
For one participant the discovery of this sub-culture resulted in
the breakdown of her marriage:
I could only ignore it [the swinging] when it did not involve
me, but when it started to involve me I could not ignore it. I got
very ill and I felt rejected by my partner. I was quite naı̈ve
about the whole thing; the way I saw it was being at one with
nature. We had only been married two or three months at the
time. It finished it. Lucy, 50s
The discourse of ‘nature’ as asexual within this official naturist
environment meant that this participant was unaware of the
potential for an erotic connection between nature and nudity. In
contrast, her partner found that this naturist environment
signified a potentially more relaxed attitude to sexual feelings
and an opportunity to explore them.
A few commercial naturist environments provided a relaxed
and open environment where people, by consenting through
subtle body language, could experiment sexually:
I went to a New Years party. You could catch somebody’s eye
and have a cuddle and a press or you could just move back that
much and they [other party goers] respected it. There was a
really nice atmosphere. Sandra, 40s
This naturist environment provided a safe and non-threatening
space in which this female participant was able to explore her
sexuality without feeling exploited, abused or harassed.
In many commercial naturist environments we found that
sexual feelings and behaviour are often strictly managed for
participants; in effect they are policed. This conservative sexual
discourse is unable to contain completely the sexual feelings and
behaviour of some participants. However, some participants
discovered covert, alternative naturist environments where a
pro-sexual discourse around social nudity and sexuality is
negotiated and enjoyed through unspoken mutual consent based
on the ebb and flow of sexual feelings. For one female participant
this naturist environment provided a unique space in which she
could explore her sexual feelings without fear of being the victim
of a sexual crime or harassment.
 ARTICLE IN PRESS
G. Smith, M. King / Health & Place 15 (2009) 439–446
Urban and rural public environments—towns, cities and the
countryside
This section investigates how naturists manage the relation-
ship between naturism and sexuality within non-naturist public
spaces such as towns, cities and the countryside.
Many participants expressed a desire to be able to go naked in
urban and rural public environments without the fear of arrest,
social ridicule or, in the case of several women, the fear of being
the victim of sexual crime. Although only a few participants had
ventured naked into urban and rural public environments, most
had attempted to subvert the public perception of nudity in public
environments as sexual in several ways. One woman managed her
feelings of sexual vulnerability by remaining unclothed for only
short periods at isolated locations. Several men managed the
public assumption that nudity is sexual by avoiding specific times,
activities, spaces and actions associated with sexual feelings,
behaviour and sexual deviancy:
I won’t feel threatened cycling in the middle of the afternoon
anymore than anyone else would feel threatened by me. If I
was to do that [cycle] at a quiet time, or late at night in a quiet
area, that could be misconstrued. Bill, 40s
A few participants argued that attempting to hide nudity in
public spaces may inadvertently reinforce the connection be-
tween nudity and sexual deviancy. This is because such covert
behaviour serves to strengthen the assumption that nudity is
always sexual and therefore should remain within private spaces.
I would do it [be nude] in quiet places and if I got caught [by a
member of the public] in a situation like that I wouldn’t
immediately try and cover up simply because that implies I’m
doing something I’m ashamed of. So you’ve got to balance the
two together. Craig, 50s
In contrast, a few participants admitted that the sexual tension
created by being nude in spaces where nudity was unexpected
enhanced their sexual feelings and encouraged their further
interest in naturism:
I think after this squash game I got much more into naturism. I
suppose the sensations were much more enhanced. It was
quite a turn-on. I didn’t get an erection, but I quite enjoyed it in
an erotic sort of way. William, 30s
Whether this participant unconsciously suppressed sexual
arousal because of the public nature of his nudity and a fear of
being seen as sexually deviant is not clear.
Participants managed the public perception of nudity as sexual
in urban and rural public environments using a moderating
discourse. Participants limited how long they were nude, isolated
themselves from the public gaze and avoided places and
behaviour that might make public nudity appear as sexual
deviancy. Whether this avoidance behaviour was also used to
limit their sexual arousal was not clear. However, it is clear that
some participants found that being nude in these non-nude
environments sometimes made their nudity feel erotic and more
pleasurable, and thereby encouraged them to pursue more
experiences of social nudity in the future.
Beach environments–official and unofficial naturist beaches
This section investigates the relationship between naturism
and sexuality in public places such as beaches, where nudity is
often tolerated by the authorities, sometimes officially and other
times unofficially.
443
Being able to view other naked bodies and being seen nude
was expressed by many participants as an enjoyable part of
practicing social nudity on beaches:
I think if we are honest with each other, we like to see and we
like to be seen—there is that buzz. But, because everyone else
is in the same state, it is not a problem at all. Harry, 40s
Unspoken consent to view the body including the genitals was
given by virtue of being mutually nude and looking, albeit
discreetly, at each other. This was not seen by participants as
sexually deviant unless the encounter with other naturists
became non-consensual and harassing:
I think the idea they were sitting there watching was fine up to
a point, but then it went too far. Why was this person still there
watching? It is becoming threatening. Carl, 40s
A woman participant spoke of feeling exposed to sexual
harassment when practicing social nudity alone and in the
presence of non-naturists:
I would not go on the beach anymore, because [of] being
approached by non-naturists. A few years ago a couple of lads
approached me and said, ‘Can I come out for tea with you,’ and
I said, ‘Leave it out, just go away.’ He came back later and said,
‘Is tea still on,’ and I said, ‘No, it’s not, go away!’ I suppose there
is always the fact, that if you’re down on the beach by yourself
as a woman, you leave yourself open [to harassment]. Lucy, 50s
Several male participants expressed their fears and experi-
ences of being abused by members of the public because their
nudity would be seen as sexually deviant. While some partici-
pants felt that sexual behaviour was never acceptable within a
public space, many participants were accepting of sexual
behaviour in beach areas if it was considered predictable, non-
intrusive and self-contained. Participants often described how
particular spaces of a beach might be implicitly defined as sexual
by ‘social groups’ wishing to tolerate sexual behaviour:
Sometimes for a quiet life I actually do go onto the gay part
because you don’t tend to get these people that walk around
masturbating who do it because they’re looking for women.
The gays sort of have sex when they’re there, but it does co-
exist because you’ve got the families and you’ve got the
couples and you’ve got the gays and they’re all in their own
zones without any fences or anything else. Robert, 50s
Some participants acknowledged having erotic feelings yet
suppressing them when experiencing the elements on the body
within the beach environment. One woman described how she
felt it was possible that, if she had given free range to her feelings,
she could have reached a sexual climax while sun-bathing nude at
the beach:
Sensuality is definitely part of sexual feeling. Sometimes it has
been so hot and I thought if you could get into the right head
space you could orgasm in this. Barbara, 40s
It is possible that an internalised fear of enjoying nudity as
sexual in a naturist environment made this participant cautious
about experiencing the erotic connection between the natural
elements and her body. Several men reported various methods of
controlling the psychological and physical signs of sexual arousal
by distracting themselves with non-sexual thoughts. They
justified this by differentiating between ‘natural’ erections that
occur ‘involuntarily’ and those that are ‘controllable’ and
 ARTICLE IN PRESS
444 G. Smith, M. King / Health & Place 15 (2009) 439–446
‘deliberate’, and therefore ‘deviant’, and that might attract social
opprobrium from other naturists:
Just cover yourself for a couple of minutes and think about
changing a tyre on the side of the M25. It will guarantee to stop
anything like that [erection]. Obviously you need to get rid of it
in that sense because it can—even a natural one—be offensive
to some people. Michael, 40s
A few participants reported that they had engaged in sexual
activity on naturist beaches but emphasised that this occurred
only in isolation from other naturists. However, one participant
felt that witnessing an indiscreet, uncontained and unpredictable
display of sexual behaviour had broadened his sexual identity and
subsequently his sense of sexual wellbeing:
I had been in for a swim and I came out, and near to where I
was there was a same-sex couple having sex. I was looking and
I got quite excited. The next thing this other person came over
and finished me off [masturbated him]. I can’t consciously
remember thinking what it would be like to have sex with
someone of the same sex before I became a naturist. Andrew,
40s
Participants experienced the relationship between naturism
and sexuality more openly on beaches than in other environ-
ments. Here sexual interest and arousal was experienced and
sometimes enjoyed. With no official rules, participants managed
sexual feelings and behaviour by using spatial segregation, the
conscious or unconscious suppression of sexual feelings and
physical responses and through body language. But this moderat-
ing discourse sometimes meant that participants suppressed the
sensory relationship between their body and the ‘natural’
environment that induced sexual thoughts and feeling in order
to manage social and psychological concerns of sexual deviancy.
A limited pro-sexual discourse was present for one participant
who found that by transgressing these social and emotional
boundaries he was able to experience and explore his sexual
feelings and identity in ways arguably not possible in a non-
naturist environment. However, expression of sexuality on
beaches was seen as more open to harassment and misinterpreta-
tion than in other naturist settings.
Personal environments—the home and garden
This section investigates the relationship between naturism
and sexuality within the personal spaces of the home and garden.
Most participants reported feeling comfortable when nude
with naturist family members. However, some (particularly
female) participants experienced feelings of unease when natur-
ism was practiced alongside non-naturist family members:
My daughters are fine about naturism. I’ve been naked in front
of them and they don’t have a problem with me being like that,
although they don’t wish to be. However, they don’t want him
[her male partner] to be naked in front of them as they see him
as my sex partner. It is the sex, the fact that he has sex with
their mother they find difficult to deal with. Sarah, 40s
Most participants remained clothed in the presence of non-
naturist friends although a few participants went nude in the
home after having obtained the consent of non-naturist friends.
However, a few participants who admitted to sometimes enjoying
nudity as erotic felt uneasy being nude or having nude photo-
graphs in their home in the presence of non-naturist friends:
I would not want to appear as a flasher, thrusting naked
photographs of myself in front of them [non-naturist friends]. I
would feel uncomfortable with that. Harry, 30s
These participants were aware of the potential for the asexual
image of naturism to provide a cover for secret enjoyment of the
sexual tension of being nude alongside clothed people within the
private space of the home.
Several participants spoke of building high boundary fencing in
order to keep social nudity in their garden private. But some
participants simply obtained consent from accepting neighbours
by declaring what activities would take place when nude. Other
participants felt that they had to be discreet within their homes
and garden in case members of the public and, in particular
children, witnessed their nudity:
There is a pub at the back of the house with children’s play
stuff. In the summer I’m going to put a net over that window. I
will do the best I can to seclude myself. Robert, 50s
The presence of nudity in the home space beyond the
bathroom and bedroom appeared to make what is regarded to
be the private space of the home into a public space. This
implicitly made the nude occupant a sexual ‘exhibitionist’ and the
public—particularly children—non-consenting victims of deviant
sexual behaviour. Thus, to avoid any confrontation or confusion
over the meaning of nudity, participants often established a clear
boundary between private and public spaces.
Some participants enjoyed the platonic company of naturist
friends. However, the view of the home as a private and legitimate
environment for sexual behaviour also meant social nudity had
the potential to become sexual in the presence of like minded
people:
We were all nudists and were all sitting around in clothes and
we asked ourselves why are four nudists sitting around in
clothes? That is when the sexuality started to come into it. But,
it was four consenting adults in a closed environment. Robert,
50s
Within the personal environments of the home and garden we
found that sexual feelings were managed through a conservative
and moderating discourse using spatial and social segregation.
There was a suggestion that nudity, particularly male nudity,
within homes shared with non-naturist occupants was viewed as
sexually and potentially deviant. Some participants who enjoyed
social nudity as erotic found that the asexual ideology of naturism
could enable them, if they so wished, to covertly enjoy the
experience of nudity as erotic in the presence of non-naturist
friends. However, a few participants found that the home
provided a private and legitimate environment for sexual
behaviour and therefore a pro-sexual discourse in which the
relationship between nudity and sexuality could be explored
freely without transgressing the asexual public image of naturism.
Discussion
These narratives show that sexuality has an impact on the
practice and experience of social nudity. First, while many
participants found some naturist environments places in which
they could discover and enjoy unexplored areas of their sexuality
such as seeing others nude, such feelings were often perceived as
socially deviant which meant they were controlled or consciously
or unconsciously repressed. This sometimes made social nudity an
isolating, repressive and anxiety-provoking experience rather
than a social and liberating one.
 ARTICLE IN PRESS
G. Smith, M. King / Health & Place 15 (2009) 439–446
Second, the current culture of social nudity (naturism) would
appear from this evidence to discourage sexual feelings or
physical arousal and label sexual exploration as sexual deviancy,
thereby reinforcing a perception of sexual exchange as primarily
penetrative as Bell and Holliday (2000) suggested. This may also
both limit the educative potential of social nudity in expanding
the experience and understanding of sexual feelings beyond the
genitals and pathologise those who enjoy the eroticism of social
nudity. The resulting implicit or explicit asexual culture of
naturism can leave individuals who experience social nudity as
erotic feeling uneasy, guilty, defensive and marginalised within
naturism, in the same way that popular culture often pathologises
and marginalises naturism itself.
Third, and contrary to those protagonists who argue that social
nudity is not erotic, it was clear that some environments can
induce or legitimise sexual feelings. Sensory rich environments
such as beaches were cited as a potential trigger for sexual
feelings, leading sometimes to the conscious or unconscious
repression of sexual feelings and behaviour that may paradoxi-
cally limit the relationship between naturism and nature. Personal
environments such as the home may also legitimise the eroticism
of social nudity without it contradicting the asexual culture and
image of naturism. Public environments that did not tolerate
social nudity were cited by some participants as a paradoxical
source of sexual feelings. Furthermore, there is some evidence in
this study to suggest that open and/or unexpected displays of
sexual behaviour, rather than causing distress, may redefine some
people’s understanding of their sexual identity and experience of
sexual feelings which, in turn, may challenge and develop their
knowledge of what constitutes sexual behaviour and their sense
of sexual wellbeing. Indeed, some naturist environments may
allow people, particularly women, to explore sexual feelings in
ways that would be considered unsafe and impossible to do in
non-naturist environments. Unfortunately, the reluctance to
openly acknowledge and effectively manage the sexual character
of social nudity within and beyond naturism meant that several
women participants feared sexual exploitation and harassment
within some naturist environments. The unwillingness of official
naturism to acknowledge and discuss the issue of sexuality may
go some way to explain why some women are wary of naturisms’
claims to be asexual, making them fearful of being exploited if
they were to practice social nudity. In contrast, several men feared
being regarded as sexually deviant and in response monitored
their behaviour and suppressed feelings to avoid being accused of
a sexual crime.
Lastly, in light of this discussion, we suggest that policy makers
responsible for promoting sexual health take into account the
potential benefits of social nudity on sexual wellbeing. Greater
openness to this issue might shift current discourses within public
health promotion from a rather narrow focus on risk minimisation
to one that is more positive about sexual activities and exploration
that increase sexual wellbeing. This approach to promotion
of positive health behaviours through challenging cultural ‘norms’
is already seen in other areas of health policy and promotion,
such as what foods we should avoid and what foods are good
for the nations health and sense of wellbeing. What we promote
as beneficial for sexual wellbeing should be no different.
This approach would also move a public health discourse in
which health knowledge is defined and articulated through
experts (Brown and Duncan, 2002) towards one based more on
peoples’ lived experience. Unfortunately, current public health
policy on sexual behaviour that aspires to risk minimisation
can be seen as confirming the conservative principles which
underpin those aspects of nudity and sexuality found in the
current Sexual Offences Act (2003). This, together with the
present asexual discourse of British naturism, serves to limit any
445
exploration of the potential of social nudity to enhance sexual
wellbeing.
Conclusion
British naturism continues, at least publically, to maintain a
strong asexual culture. Government legislation views the relation-
ship between social nudity and sexuality from a pathological and
criminal perspective. This study has shown that social nudity and
sexual feelings and behaviour are related in more complex and
subtle ways than either of these current viewpoints capture.
Neither offers a way forward in understanding or addressing the
conflicts around sexual behaviour in naturist and public environ-
ments and the breadth of feelings that can be experienced in
social nudity. One way forward is to manage naturist environ-
ments differently, so that the experience of social nudity as
sometimes erotic is not stigmatised, pathologised or criminalised,
whilst those who are experiencing social nudity as completely
asexual do not feel exploited, harassed or abused. How we address
this dilemma should be the main focus of any future discussion
and research on the sexual character of naturism. With their focus
on wellbeing health geographers are in a unique position to
further this discussion and initiate the much needed future
research on this subject for future generations interested in social
nudity.
Our results suggest that naturist environments are a unique
space in which to potentially explore sexuality and enjoy
experiences and feelings that are often repressed and limited in
conventional public spaces by public health policy and current
legislation on sexual behaviour and sexual relationships. In
contemporary society the only alternatives to private nudity are
the virtual realities of commercial pornography with its emphasis
on nudity as always sexual, commercial sexual environments such
as swinging clubs which are often based on a prior knowledge of
sexual interest and experience, or lap dancing clubs which play on
the objectification and sexual exploitation of women and sustain
sexism. Naturist environments potentially offer a unique space in
which people can explore the breadth of their sexual feelings in
ways that are frank but non-exploitative. Such opportunities
may provide a welcome addition to the current programmes
of promotion of sexual wellbeing and breathe new life into
naturism.
Contributors
Glenn Smith (Senior Research Fellow): Original concept,
devised the protocol, obtained funding for the study, conducted
the interviews, analysed the data and authored the paper.
Michael King (Professor of Primary Care Psychiatry): Devised
the protocol, obtained funding for the study, analysed the data
and authored the paper.
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank the Economic and Social
Research Council (ESRC) for funding this one-year study, the
participants who took part in the study, Health and Efficiency
magazine, NUFF website, British Naturist Magazine, Naturist Life
Magazine and Jeffrey Weeks and Craig Smith for their comments
on earlier manuscripts; and all those others who helped but for
reasons of confidentiality cannot be named.
 ARTICLE IN PRESS
446 G. Smith, M. King / Health & Place 15 (2009) 439–446
References
Ableman, P., 1993. Beyond Nakedness. Elysium Growth Press, Topanga.
Bain, A.L., Nash, C.J., 2006. Undressing the researcher: feminism, embodiment and
sexuality at a queer bathhouse event. Area 38.1, 99–106.
Barcan, R., 2004. Nudity: A Cultural Anatomy. Oxford, Berg.
Bell, D.J., Holliday, R., 2000. Naked as nature intended. Body and Society 6, 127–140.
Bell, D., Valentine, G. (Eds.), 1995. Mapping Desire: Geographies of Sexualities.
Routledge, London.
Bindrim, P., 1968. A report on a nude marathon: the effects of physical nudity upon
the practice of interaction in the marathon group. Psychotherapy: Theory and
Practice 5, 180–188.
Bindrim, P., 1969. Nudity as a quick grab for intimacy in group therapy. Psychology
Today 3, 24–30.
Blank, L., 1969. Nudity as a quest for life the way it was before the apple.
Psychology Today 3, 18–23.
Brown, T., Duncan, C., 2002. Placing geographies of public health. Area 33.4, 361–369.
Clarke, M., 1982. Nudism in Australia: A First Study. Deakin University Press, Victoria.
Coltrane, S., 1994. Theorizing masculinities in contemporary social science. In:
Brod, H., Kaufman, M. (Eds.), Theorizing Masculinities. Sage, London.
Cook, H., 1994. Nudism: sex, gender and social change 1930–1950. Unpublished
Master’s Thesis.
Cornwell, J., 1984. Hard Earned Lives: Accounts of Health and Illness from East
London. Tavistock, London.
Donovan, J., 1986. We Don’t Buy Sickness, It Just Comes: Health, Illness and Health
Care in The Lives of Black People in London. Gower, Aldershot.
Eyles, J., 1987. The Geography of the National Health: An Essay in Welfare
Geography. Croom Helm, London.
Fleuret, S., Atkinson, S., 2007. Wellbeing, health and geography: a critical review
and research agenda. New Zealand Geographer 63, 106–118.
Flugel, J.C., 1950. The psychology of nudism. Complex 3, 3–15.
Hall, L., 1999. Sexual cultures in Britain: some persisting themes. In: Franz, X.E.,
Hall, L., Hekma, G. (Eds.), Sexual Cultures in Europe. Manchester University
Press, Manchester, pp. 29–53.
Haste, C., 2002. Rules of Desire: Sex in Britain, World War 1 to the Present. Vintage,
London.
Kearns, R.A., 1993. Place and health: towards a reformed medical geography. The
Professional Geographer 45, 139–147.
Lorand, S., 1933. The psychology of nudism. Psychoanalytic Review 20, 197–207.
Parmelee, M., 1929. Nudism in Modern Life. Noel Douglas, London.
Russell, D., 1981. The Tamarisk Tree: Vol. 2. My School and The Years of The War.
Virago, London.
Sprawson, C., 1992. Haunts of the Black Masseur: The Swimmer as Hero. Vintage,
London.
Toepfer, K., 1997. Empire of Ecstasy: Nudity and Movement in German Body
Culture. University of California Press, London.
Warren, H.C., 1933. Social nudism and the body taboo. Psychological Review 40,
160–183.
Weinberg, M.S., Rutgers, U., 1966. Becoming a nudist. Psychiatry: Journal for the
Study of Interpersonal Processes 1, 15–24.
Wolch, J., Philo, C., 2000. From distributions of deviance to definitions of
difference: past and future mental health geographies. Health and Place 6,
137–158.