Natural Beauty Pt. 06

[Latest news from the Palmira Gazette]

In one of their boldest actions so far, members of the extremist group BLOW yesterday launched a raid into downtown Régate.

Just after midday, alarmed residents and tourists dashed for cover as four members of the outlawed Brigade to Liberate Oppressed Womanhood struck in the Palmiran capital. Initial reports indicate that they were heavily clothed. One woman, identified as the ringleader, was wearing an elegant knee-length sea-green spaghetti-strap dress overlaid in pale-latte chiffon, with a gold brocade bodice. She is believed to have accessorized, but few details are available.

Eyewitnesses recalled a similar incident last month, when an insurgent in a full-length off-the-shoulder gown in midnight-blue crepe satin with side split was apprehended on the steps of Parliament House.

A police spokeswoman has confirmed that this was another BLOW job. Authorities have declared a state of emergency and are rounding up and strip-searching the usual suspects. In the meantime, citizens are advised to be on the alert for suspicious tan lines.

The Gazette will keep readers abreast of developments as they happen.

It isn't everyday that one is in a position to help change the laws of an entire country, even if that country is the little island of Palmira. My experience has received more publicity than it deserved at the time, but the outcome was positive. I shall now tell the full story.

The background is set out in the newspaper article which included my original correspondence. The episode occurred in the wake of Hurricane Sarah, four years ago. Although thankfully no lives were lost, hundreds of buildings including houses and hotels suffered damage ranging from moderate to severe.

[From the Palmira Gazette]

The recent hurricane activity in the region has reminded us of the letter and follow-up article we published last year which stirred up much interest. As the clean-up continues, we think the story deserves a second reading. Here is the full text of the letter from Rachel McKenna, an Australian expert in environmental engineering.

"I am writing to your newspaper to set the record straight about a recent incident which has caused some unfortunate controversy.

"My specialty is in the field of emergency services. I advise government agencies on natural disaster relief, prevention and mitigation. In the wake of Hurricane Sarah I was asked to fly out to Grenada to conduct a preliminary assessment of the damage. When we had completed our survey and submitted our report, two colleagues and I were asked to divert to Palmira. Our department's resources were thinly spread, so nobody else could be spared for the assignment. However, I was happy to go and looked forward to providing whatever advice and assistance I could.

"Despite what has been alleged, I knew about Palmira and its laws. However, when I arrived I was tired and irritable; as were the local officials, I must add. Probably none of us was thinking straight, and that was the source of the misunderstanding, not ignorance.

"My two male colleagues and I received a very friendly welcome. Our liaison person had not thought to raise the subject, no doubt assuming that I had been briefed before landing; but as we were starting to leave the terminal, I was stopped by one of the immigration officials. He ordered me to remove my clothing. I explained that I was on official business as a guest of the government. He made it clear that if I wished to apply for a special exemption, I would not be allowed to leave the airport until I received clearance. Under the circumstances, that could have taken as long as twenty-four hours.

"Thereupon the discussion became somewhat heated. I explained that I did not have a day to spare and neither did my colleagues. I requested that the officer contact his superiors. He went away and upon returning spoke to me quite brusquely. I was informed that local laws could not be set aside for one individual, and that while my services to the people of Palmira were appreciated, I would not be exempted.

"At this point my colleagues intervened, warning that if I were to be barred from entry we would all be flying out immediately. However, this was not a viable option, so I told him that I was stripping under protest. The officer appeared to shrug that off as irrelevant.

"I was thereafter able to carry out my mission without further hindrance or embarrassment. In fact, I was very much impressed by the professionalism of my associates and co-workers. By the end of our stay I was beginning to feel quite at ease with my nudity. All the same, I think it is incumbent upon the government to formalize a policy for situations like mine. My main concern is not so much with issues of modesty or morality, but rather with health and safety. On several occasions my lack of clothing posed hazards which made it difficult and at times impossible to do my job properly. I addressed these concerns to the government agents with whom I had contact, they were taken seriously, and I was treated with respect. I was, and am, completely satisfied with their response.

"I am therefore very interested in any action which the government may consider to address my concerns."

As the Gazette has reported, this issue has been dealt with by new laws, the Health and Safety Standards Act and the Summary Offences (Female Nudity) Act, enacted recently by Parliament.

Contrary to some accounts, I have not been back to Palmira, and at the moment have no plans to revisit. However, I departed on friendly terms with local officialdom; and on the whole I enjoyed my time there. I was pleased by the level of co-operation, hospitality and sympathy I encountered everywhere.

The department I work for is efficient; so the suggestion that I was not aware of Palmira's traditions is not only wrong but absurd. Whenever we fly into a country we are briefed on local laws, customs and lifestyles. Still, it is a matter of record that something went wrong. In my letter to the Gazette I attributed the oversight to fatigue and irritability; but there was also the fog issue — the confusion and misunderstanding resulting from the special circumstances. We were, after all, in a semi-disaster zone.

From the air, on approach, we could see that Palmira had escaped most of the devastation suffered by other islands, whether through good luck or (more likely) good management. The airport runway was unscathed but deserted, as was virtually the entire terminal, which would normally be congested at this time of year. Most tourists had packed and left before Sarah hit, or else were waiting out the remnants of what was now a tropical storm in their hotels.

As soon as we landed we were met by Dr Bernard Suter, the government representative with whom I was acquainted from a conference a couple of years earlier. Bernie is Jamaican-born, an expert in his field who nonetheless shows that laid-back Calypso temperament which can be at once endearing and exasperating. In this case, the latter prevailed.

Even as we crossed the tarmac, Bernie was filling us in on the details of our assignment, and it probably never occurred to him to discuss with me about what was to come. The weather was cool, overcast and blustery. We — my associates, Peter and Ricardo, and I — were wearing jeans and jackets. In fact, we hadn't had time to change since returning to St George's (the capital of Grenada) for the flight to Régate.

We were afforded VIP treatment, being spared passport checks and customs inspections. With no other aircraft incoming or departing that afternoon, there was only a skeleton staff on duty, and just a few civilians were moving around outside the arrivals lounge. I confess that I was somewhat startled that the three or four women I saw were naked. I had assumed that in the aftermath of a major hurricane event the nude law would be temporarily suspended; but this was obviously not the case. My colleagues were understandably impressed, especially by Bernie's assistant, Juliana. She, on the other hand, was not at all fazed by the scrutiny her body received as they shook hands. She was accustomed to the goggle-eyed attention of men unused to being greeted by a beautiful, well-built, stark-naked young woman.

The welcomes dispensed with, we made ready to leave the terminal. I picked up my bags and took a couple of steps toward the exit. Nobody followed. I turned to see what was wrong. Bernie was giving me a quizzical look, Juliana seemed amused, Peter and Rick had suspenseful — might I say hungry? — expressions. I just stared at them blankly. I patted my pockets (ironically, as it turned out) thinking I must have forgotten something. My wallet... got it. My passport... still there. What? I thought. No one said a word.

It was up to the senior immigration officer to set me straight. He became the butt of my indignation, but in the end he was just the messenger.

"Excuse me, madam," he said, in a bureaucratic throat-clearing manner. He pointed to a part of me in the vicinity of my midriff.

It took me just a second or two to comprehend.

"You're kidding," I replied, feebly.

He shook his head, gravely.

I swung about to glare at Bernie. He winced and apologetically shrugged his shoulders. I glanced at my colleagues. They appeared sympathetic (but not empathetic).

When I didn't make a move, the officer gestured again at my torso.

"You must remove your clothing."

"I am not a tourist" I growled. "I'm here on official business, on the express invitation of your government. Let me rephrase that — at the request of your government."

His only reaction was a "the law is the law" tone. "Madam, if you wish to apply for an exemption, we will try to expedite your appeal. However, you will have to remain here until it is approved."

"And how long will that take?"

He just blinked.

"That long, eh?"

"You must understand..."

I interrupted him. "I know. It's all chaos and confusion at the moment. Doesn't that just make it more imperative..."

"Yes, it does, madam."

His testy response showed that my resistance was starting to get to him.

"Do you really think your government can afford to have me sitting on my backside for a day or two?'

"No, madam."

"I certainly don't have a day to spare. So if my services aren't needed, I can fly straight out again."

He just blinked again. I clearly was not going to get any further with him.

"So I suggest you contact your superiors."

With an audible sigh, he spun around and marched out of the room.

I looked around me, a little intimidated by my own performance. No one said anything. Bernie appeared embarrassed, but Juliana could not suppress a faint smile. The handful of bystanders and passers-by gawked. The airport workers were impassive. This was not the first time the latter had witnessed such feisty defiance. I wondered, apprehensively, who had won those previous encounters. I guessed the answer.

Peter and Rick were standing rigidly beside our luggage. I could see in their faces how dearly both wanted to see me naked; but I must give them credit. They came through for me; or at least they did their best.

It didn't take long for my adversary to return. In fact, he was so quick I now question whether he did actually consult his superiors. His answer was predictable.

"Madam, I regret to inform you..." (but he didn't sound regretful) "that our laws cannot be set aside, under any circumstances. My government appreciates your efforts on behalf of our people, but there can be no exemptions except by application through the proper channels."

The stilted language came across as not authoritative but supercilious.

Peter spoke before I could respond.

"Sir, I don't think your attitude is helpful."

Rick backed us up. "If our colleague is going to be denied entry," he proclaimed, "we'll all be taking the next plane out."

My comrades bore self-congratulatory expressions; but with hindsight I can see that with this exchange they had inadvertently put me on the spot. They weren't bluffing but had only succeeded in making the guy more stubborn. Poor Bernie looked panic-stricken.

I knew I had to give in. Juliana, starting to feel guilty, offered me the privacy of a "changing booth" which was just a partitioned-off corner of the room. However, I couldn't see the logic of undressing behind a screen when I would then immediately be naked in public anyway. But that was a mistake which I quickly regretted. As soon as I removed my shirt and bra, feeling the several pairs of eyes focused on my striptease, I was close to losing my nerve. And oddly enough it was the officious supervisor who saved the day. His spiteful smugness in watching me peel off my clothing gave me the strength to continue. I could not give him the satisfaction of seeing me freeze up or freak out.

Of course, mine was a Pyrrhic victory; for in the end I was butt-naked and he was in his uniform. Yet his attitude changed. He nodded and smiled his approval and, I believe, gratitude. Bernie almost giggled with relief that a final confrontation had been averted. Juliana gathered and folded my clothes and as she did so she caressed them, wistfully it seemed to me. I wondered how long it had been since she'd felt fabric on her skin.

Peter and Rick tried not to leer. It was strange, and a little creepy. There were at least half a dozen nude women in their sight, but their gaze remained fixed on me. But it made sense. I was their colleague; in fact, I was the senior-ranking member of our team. We had shared hard work and hardships together. And yet during all the time we'd be working on the island I would not be permitted to wear anything on my body.

As I wrote in my letter to the Palmira Gazette, I confronted few difficulties being starkers 24/7. Indeed, I quickly started to enjoy it and can understand why so many women want to vacation on that idyllic isle. And I understand the appeal of compulsion. The attraction of obligatory nudity is that you don't need to feel shy or shameful or slutty, because you have no choice but to be as you are. You can revel in the freedom and the sensuality. Furthermore, it's a myth that it in some way objectifies you. I have never felt more sexual, more feminine, more proud of and confident in my womanhood.

Of course, when your co-workers in the field are protected by overalls and you have to cope with the elements and on-site hazards bare-skinned, you can take some pride in your toughness; but you won't come away unscathed. Also, with my body exposed and accessible, during our two-week stay I existed in a state of almost permanent erotic arousal. That is disconcerting, even a little humiliating... and inconvenient when you're trying to preserve your dignity, act professionally and maintain your concentration in an unpredictable and unforgiving work environment.

But on the whole, the brief unpleasantness at the airport turned out to be a good thing. The government of Palmira has introduced safety standards for women's nudity; and I like to feel I can claim some credit for that.