Richard Foley (richinud)

Many photos, on this site and others, especially of women, (usually) receive positive complimentary comments. On the face of it, this is a good thing. One posts a photo, the person/people in the photo are pleased to receive positive feedback and everyone’s happy. However, there is a school of thought which takes offense to even positive comments, especially when the comment can be interpreted in a sexual manner. Usually this manifests itself in a man commenting on an image of a pretty woman, and although obviously other permutations are seen, the common case is considered here.

ps. I trust Anita is happy for her, almost arbitrarily chosen and quite outstanding, photo to be used here for this site/blog example.

The question is really, whether positive comments with “innuendo”, are permitted, or whether all comments are required to be completely neutral at all times. Or perhaps a balance might be reached. We’re not talking here about clearly sexual comments like “nice tits”, which ARE clearly inappropriate, so let’s not bother with those for now. We’re talking about comments such as: “gorgeous scenery”, “enchanting smile”, “heaven in a teacup”, “beautiful figure”, “awesome picture”. What is said and what is read, may be different in each case. Because some people, are highly sensitive, or equally highly IN-sensitive, and because people may see lechery where it is not intended, or intend lechery and try to hide it well, this is clearly a complex issue.

I want to point up this image here, which has already had several comments, as an example only, and welcome feedback/comments here. Hopefully we can all learn from the conversation, and educate one another as to what might be appropriate or not, at the same time.

Responses welcome!

The alpine sun blazed down as we set off across the bridge over the Rißbach river. I stripped off almost immediately and stuffed my clothes into my rucksack. Polly, the Collie, and Susi, the Pekinese, scampered about looking for sticks and sniffs. Although Sandra and I had been on a couple of hikes together already, and she’d read a chapter from my recent Naked Hiking book by Nicole Wunram, she was still feeling her way, so she continued dressed as usual.

The trail snaked up the steep hillside through the thick trees. Almost immediately we met a small party descending from the hill above. Given the time of day, and the size of their rucksacks, we assumed they’d overnighted on the hills above somewhere. We exchanged a few words as we passed one another briefly, along with a “fun in the alps” comment from one fellow. The trail continued steeply, and we were soon hot and sweaty. Sandra decided to remove her top as the cloth was sticking to her and most uncomfortable.

After some time, we passed a hunters hut with a marvelous view across to the high mountain

Halfway up an alp, the views are tremendous.

ridges across the steep valley. Stopping here briefly for a rest and a drink, we then continued up the hillside. Taking a wrong fork in the trail did nothing to shorten the hike, but a little back-tracking brought us to the right trail once more. We maintained our steady pace upwards, with Sandra beginning to feel the height and the effort required. I’m quite used to seeing Polly run rings around me on the hills all day long, but I was pleasantly surprised to see how Susi, the little Pekinese, managed the whole way without appearing especially tired.

We finally topped the plateau-like summit ridge of the Vördersberg, and the vista opened out all around us. Peaks in every direction described sharp and undulating ridges across the alpine skylines. In the distance several lakes south of Munich gleamed in the sunshine. Thick dark clouds scudded menacingly but distantly across the bright blue sky around us, as we sat down to enjoy a midday snack and a well needed drink. We took an all-naked summit photo for posperity, before Sandra pulled on her skirt once more for the descent.

A couple of people arrived at the summit as we left, and we exchanged the usual mountain greetings before descending the steep zig-zag

At 1854m, perhaps the highest a Pekinese has ever been under it’s own steam?

trail back through the woods. On the descent we missed the hut, and hardly saw anybody else. Eventually, Sandra sighed deeply in exasperation, and stripped off her final pieces of clothing to join me, saying “There’s nobody up here, and the sweat is so sticky with the clothes, and you’re naked, and that’s enough! Off with it all!” I smiled, as I welcomed her to the pleasant world of naked hiking.

We continued our descent, through the darkening forest, as although the temperature was most pleasant, the clouds were gathering steadily above us. Down, down, down we went, trying not to slip on the moist soil. The really dangerous spots were the damp roots snaking out across the trail. Finally we reached the valley bottom, just as the weather broke. Susi surprised me again by quite literally hopping along the path, you’d think the little Pekinese would be tired by now, having been to 1845 m and back… We made our way back to the van in between several short bursts of rain, which made us only slightly damp. Driving the van round to a local gasthof for a long and refreshing drink, we watched as the heavens simply opened and for the next hour the rain pummeled down on to the van roof. The dogs just curled up and waited patiently for dinner time. We’d had a great alpine day out, made somewhat special by Sandra’s first naked foray, and some fortuitous timing with the weather.

We’d set off for a local hike, both the dogs in the van, me driving naked as usual, and Sandra as passenger, trundling along through a local town, just outside Munich, chatting and although watching the road, probably going a little quicker than we should have been. All of a sudden, out steps a policeman into the middle of the road and flags me to pull over. As I slow down and turn the corner we manouvre into the space behind the parked police car, with the speed camera and the anti-crime team.

I switch the engine off as the policeman approaches the car and he asks for my drivers license, vehicle papers, etc. I have to stand up and retrieve my documents from the rucksack in the back of the van, thus making it crystal clear to everbody that the driver is naked. I didn’t see this, as I was concentrating on the documents, but Sandra later told me that one of the police officers had nudged his colleague and nodded with his head in our direction. She looked in our direction, slightly surprised to see my naked butt disappear into the back of the van, and then looked at Sandra. Sandra just smiled back pleasantly.

As I returned to my drivers’ seat I offered the friendly policeman and his female colleague, who’d joined him to see for herself, my documents, which he took before asking me if I’d like to pay the speeding fine now, or should they start “the paperwork”. I thought discretion was the best part of valour here, and promptly offered to helpfully pay the fine on the spot. I’ll admit it was a little strange to being questioned (albeit on a different subject), by the two armed police officers at my open van window, while sitting there naked in front of them, but that’s how it was. Anyhow, having the correct notes to hand, I paid up, and they promptly gave me a receipt and a friendly wave, and I drove away as efficiently as possible, not really wanting to hang around to give them too much time to reconsider their procedures.

Overall the police were very friendly, and the only real problem was having to pay the darned speeding fine in the first place. But there you go. Sandra and I had a good giggle about the situation afterwards, and the police team probably had a funny story to tell their colleagues back at the station. The extra bonus of course, is that it’s yet one more public encounter with nakedness that went positively 🙂

So, we were hiking (naked) along this long straight forest trail, trees stretching to out on both side, Polly and I, and I see this cyclist approaching at a fair pace in front and to my left, directly towards us. I decide to be smart and I take the stick I'm holding and I throw it slightly forward and out to my right-hand side, expecting Polly to head away from the bicyle. What does she do? She darts LEFT!
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I can only watch Murphy's Law in motion. Polly darts directly in front of the startled rider, lunges across to his FAR side, before heading in a firm diagonal line back towards the stick, straight into the rider's right foot, almost knocking him off his bike. There's an almighty thwack as the overweight and running collie slams into the fairly fast moving cyclist.

There's a yelp as Polly limps off into the undergrowth, and a flood of apologies from me. (You are not responsible for your cat, but you ARE responsible for your dog.) Clearly Polly and I were at fault here, and I'm looking at the blood pouring from this poor guy's shin in front of me, as I rapidly start to unpack my rucksack looking for my first aid kit. I pull out a full bandage, and he holds a tissue over the wound, as I step forward to wrap the bandage around his leg, apologizing profusely. I'm thinking that I don't really want to give him my id, but I have caused a fairly unpleasant accident, via my dog, so that's the right thing to do. Sighing inwardly about the likelihood of both a police intervention against the naked man who attacked the cyclist with his dog, and the probable hassle with health insurances and so forth.
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Well, he was understandably not happy about the accident, and he may even have not been so comfortable with this strange naked man strapping his bleeding leg, but you could have knocked me over with a feather when I offered him my name and address, so that he could follow the incident up formally, and he waved it away, saying: "it's ok, these things happen, have a nice day!" And cycled off down the forest path, plus one wound and plus one bandage.

I scowled at Polly, who was just looking at me expectantly with the stick she'd retrieved, and we continued on our naked hike along the warm, open and fresh, mid-summer forest trail. Sometimes, despite setbacks, one has a good day.

( Please note that this is slightly tongue-in-cheek – for those few among us who might otherwise take this a little too seriously 😉 )

I am happy to join with you today in what may go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of man.

Five score years ago, (and fifty years more), a great man, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Nudists who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Nudist still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Nudist is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Nudist lives on a lonely island of shameful nudity in the midst of a vast ocean of textile domination. One hundred years later, the Nudist is still languished in the corners of modern society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we’ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we’ve come to this nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our state wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every man was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, nudist men as well as clothed men, would be guaranteed the “unalienable Rights” of “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” It is obvious today that the world has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of skin are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, this world has given the Nudists a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.”

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we’ve come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind everybody of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of naked justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of naked injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of our children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Nudist’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. This year is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Nudist needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the world returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in the world until the Nudist is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nations until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Nudist community must not lead us to a distrust of all clothed people, for many of our clothed brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.

We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Nudist is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. *We cannot be satisfied as long as the Nudist’s basic mobility is from a smaller club ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by a sign stating: “For Textiles Only.”* We cannot be satisfied as long as a Nudist in town cannot vote naked and a Nudist in the country believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until “justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.”¹

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest — quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to your homes, go back to your towns, go back to your mountains, go back to your lakes, go back to your clubs, go back to the spas and ghettos of our clothed cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the modern dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream that one day on these wide lands of ours, the sons of former Nudists and the sons of former Textiles will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the city of Freiburg, a city sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my two not-so-little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the texture of their clothing but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, down in the courthouse, with its vicious textiles, with its judge having his lips dripping with the words of “shame” and “exhibitionism” — one day right there in our own home town, little naked boys and naked girls will be able to join hands with little clothed boys and clothed girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; “and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.”

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back home with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And this will be the day — this will be the day when all of our children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers dressed, land of the Pilgrim’s pride,

From every mountainside, let freedom ring!

And if we are to be a great nation, this must become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of the New World.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of the Old World.

Let freedom ring from the heightening coastlines of Portugal.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped alps of Switzerland.

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of Italy.

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from the Stone Mountains of Russia.

Let freedom ring from the Country of Turkey.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of France.

From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of our children, Nudists and Textiles, Blacks and Whites, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Nudist spiritual:

Free at last! Free at last!

Thank goodness, we are naked at last!

( An original online version of MLK’s truly inspiring speech may be found here )