The unidentifiable beauty of self respect and dignity.
Now, if you would enter our front gate unannounced you could be confronted with a middle-aged, somewhat tainted, near to white, naked butt. For some that’s no problem, for some, it’s a reason to use the bell the next time. I’m not a naturist, by all means, but in the enclosure of my private property, I act accordingly to my own feelings of freedom. The years of showing youth and later on hiding the kebab and beer shaped belly are way behind me, nevertheless, a tiny bit of embarrassment can’t be denied when such an encounter occurs. We all have our own level of what we think is normal behaviour and sadly some believe a certain “descent” dress code, even in private, is an important part of that. When we would except that all is normal and a part of personal freedom, we could start dealing with more important issues.
I remember the family trips to the sea, my father and grandfather would stare at a fish float all day, my mother kept an eye on me and my little sisters, my grandmother would make sure we kids had enough to drink and eat. I was 5 so I wore my first swimming trunks, my little sisters were young enough to walk around naked, my father had his fishing hat on, my mother would hide the consequences of having three kids with a colourful shawl and my grandmother wore what she always wore, a flowery printed dress and a kerchief. That’s how I knew her as a child, that’s how I remember her still. You could say we looked like the average family back in the late 60ties. Happy times!
A few years later, after my father past away at the age of 38, life changed massively, for a big part for the obvious sad reasons, but also because as a 10 year old I was told to lock the bathroom door, not allowed to go in my sister’s bedrooms, in short, the difference between boys and girls was made clear by suddenly changing the way we used to live together. Where at my grandma’s house it used to be normal to fill up a washtub in the kitchen and get a firm wash, one after the other, I had to wait until my little sisters were asleep and from then on my grandparents would give me some privacy by shutting to the living room door. In a few months time, being naked or seeing somebody else naked turned from a normality without second thoughts to a shameful act, even when it’s at home, even when it’s your own family. While a new generation of women burned their bras, hippies were dancing naked to the sounds of Jimmy Hendrix and people didn’t even have swim-wear in East-Germany, we were taught it was a sin to see God’s creation. Well, at Sunday Church school we were taught that all Germans were bad people, reflecting the standards of morality in a little protestant Dutch village at that time.
The flower-power generation became managers, directors, and politicians. The East-Germans became Germans again, beach-wear went from bikini to topless, from topless to bathing suite and in some cases, even a so-called burquini, which reminds me of my grandmother’s outfit in those happy day’s in the late 60’s. Well, with the difference that there were no policemen forcing my granny to strip in public. After a few decades of cautious acceptance towards naked skin and the different personal freedom to show or hide the result of nature’s creation, it seems we’re heading back to a conservative “Christian” standard of dignity. Multiculturalism has become exactly what the word says. Multi-cultural means “multiple standards and values. The conservative gouvernments are now fighting against it by trying to force its citizens what to wear, on what location. A combination of the liberal 60’s and the authoritarian 40’s, cultural nationalism linked to social-liberalism, forcing people to cover up tattoos with a suit to get a job, getting undressed at a beach to a conservative but liberal standard, claiming it’s a lack of respect not to do so. Anything different from the mainstream is a reason to come up with a new law, making everyone dress and behave accordingly and slowly drive society to pluralism.
My grandmother grew up with the morality of her time, she would be comfortable in these “revival of conservatism” days. She was a proud woman, wore her flowery printed dresses and kerchiefs with dignity throughout the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s and in the new millennium. Then politicians decided personal dignity is a luxury. Suffering from Alzheimer she became a resident of a nursery home, forced to strip daily in front of every time again another stranger, male or female. In the beginning she protested, later on, she didn’t remember the day before. The double morale in our society is taking away exactly that, our dignity. When you are a baby everyone is allowed to see you naked, sometimes photographed for future generations by laying on the skin of a dead rabbit or sheep, when you are old and needy history repeats itself, being monitored by a camera for your own safety and to make sure a manager can check on the maximum time a nurse spends helping you.
Now, I don’t bother being accidentally exposed when you come through our gate into our little private paradise, I will vanish shortly and come back a proper, maybe poorly, dressed homeowner and welcome you with a smile. If, and I know the possibility is there, you are offended, scarily covering your eyes or run back out of the gate hysterical shouting “Oh My God!”, that’s your problem. It’s my privilege to do whatever I want in our little private paradise, and although I’m a bit of the provoking kind, I would never endure the embarrassment if it’s avoidable. I won’t be offended or provoked when such a situation occurs when visiting someones home, garden, or a public beach. I won’t be offended by your nakedness, silly beach dress or even a burquini. But how would you feel if I told you to dress to my standards, wouldn’t you feel like that poor old woman when police officers forced her to strip on a French beach, or like my grandmother during the last days on this earth?
I remember the family trips to the sea, my father and grandfather would stare at a fish float all day, my mother kept an eye on me and my little sisters, my grandmother would make sure we kids had enough to drink and eat. I was 5 so I wore my first swimming trunks, my little sisters were young enough to walk around naked, my father had his fishing hat on, my mother would hide the consequences of having three kids with a colourful shawl and my grandmother wore what she always wore, a flowery printed dress and a kerchief. That’s how I knew her as a child, that’s how I remember her still. You could say we looked like the average family back in the late 60ties. Happy times!
A few years later, after my father past away at the age of 38, life changed massively, for a big part for the obvious sad reasons, but also because as a 10 year old I was told to lock the bathroom door, not allowed to go in my sister’s bedrooms, in short, the difference between boys and girls was made clear by suddenly changing the way we used to live together. Where at my grandma’s house it used to be normal to fill up a washtub in the kitchen and get a firm wash, one after the other, I had to wait until my little sisters were asleep and from then on my grandparents would give me some privacy by shutting to the living room door. In a few months time, being naked or seeing somebody else naked turned from a normality without second thoughts to a shameful act, even when it’s at home, even when it’s your own family. While a new generation of women burned their bras, hippies were dancing naked to the sounds of Jimmy Hendrix and people didn’t even have swim-wear in East-Germany, we were taught it was a sin to see God’s creation. Well, at Sunday Church school we were taught that all Germans were bad people, reflecting the standards of morality in a little protestant Dutch village at that time.
The flower-power generation became managers, directors, and politicians. The East-Germans became Germans again, beach-wear went from bikini to topless, from topless to bathing suite and in some cases, even a so-called burquini, which reminds me of my grandmother’s outfit in those happy day’s in the late 60’s. Well, with the difference that there were no policemen forcing my granny to strip in public. After a few decades of cautious acceptance towards naked skin and the different personal freedom to show or hide the result of nature’s creation, it seems we’re heading back to a conservative “Christian” standard of dignity. Multiculturalism has become exactly what the word says. Multi-cultural means “multiple standards and values. The conservative gouvernments are now fighting against it by trying to force its citizens what to wear, on what location. A combination of the liberal 60’s and the authoritarian 40’s, cultural nationalism linked to social-liberalism, forcing people to cover up tattoos with a suit to get a job, getting undressed at a beach to a conservative but liberal standard, claiming it’s a lack of respect not to do so. Anything different from the mainstream is a reason to come up with a new law, making everyone dress and behave accordingly and slowly drive society to pluralism.
My grandmother grew up with the morality of her time, she would be comfortable in these “revival of conservatism” days. She was a proud woman, wore her flowery printed dresses and kerchiefs with dignity throughout the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s and in the new millennium. Then politicians decided personal dignity is a luxury. Suffering from Alzheimer she became a resident of a nursery home, forced to strip daily in front of every time again another stranger, male or female. In the beginning she protested, later on, she didn’t remember the day before. The double morale in our society is taking away exactly that, our dignity. When you are a baby everyone is allowed to see you naked, sometimes photographed for future generations by laying on the skin of a dead rabbit or sheep, when you are old and needy history repeats itself, being monitored by a camera for your own safety and to make sure a manager can check on the maximum time a nurse spends helping you.
Now, I don’t bother being accidentally exposed when you come through our gate into our little private paradise, I will vanish shortly and come back a proper, maybe poorly, dressed homeowner and welcome you with a smile. If, and I know the possibility is there, you are offended, scarily covering your eyes or run back out of the gate hysterical shouting “Oh My God!”, that’s your problem. It’s my privilege to do whatever I want in our little private paradise, and although I’m a bit of the provoking kind, I would never endure the embarrassment if it’s avoidable. I won’t be offended or provoked when such a situation occurs when visiting someones home, garden, or a public beach. I won’t be offended by your nakedness, silly beach dress or even a burquini. But how would you feel if I told you to dress to my standards, wouldn’t you feel like that poor old woman when police officers forced her to strip on a French beach, or like my grandmother during the last days on this earth?
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