Why Do I Still Cross My Legs as a Naturist Woman?
by Corin (apparently still negotiating with my own nervous system)
Something I Keep Noticing About Myself
Let’s talk about naturist women and body comfort. I’ve been noticing this about myself for a while now and I keep circling back to it because it’s both mildly annoying and kind of silly.
I’m a naturist. I’m comfortable being nude. I sit naked with other people… I share photos… I talk about bodies… and I do not burst into flames when someone takes their clothes off near me. All very solid naturist credentials.
And yet… I still subconsciously cross my legs or keep my knees closed when nude. Like my body has its own separate opinion about this whole freedom thing and did not bother to consult me.
It’s not because I’m cold or because I’m shy. It’s not because I suddenly forgot I’m naked or became scandalized by my own existence.
For me… it’s just reflex. A tiny, polite little leg-cross that happens before my brain even gets a vote. And every time I notice it, I have this internal moment of, “Really? We’re still doing this?”
What makes it extra strange is that I don’t have any reaction when other women are fully open and visible. None. I don’t care. I don’t interpret it as anything. It’s just a human body being a human body. End of story. So apparently my brain is totally fine with vulvas in general. It just has very specific opinions about my own.
Which feels rude, honestly. Like my own body is running a separate focus group without me.
When “Neutral” Isn’t Actually Neutral
Part of why I think this keeps standing out to me is because naturist spaces are supposed to be neutral about bodies, and in theory I agree with that completely. In practice… not so much. Especially online, where there is this very narrow, very fragile idea of what “acceptable naturist nudity” looks like and women’s bodies seem to get audited much more carefully than men’s.
We once got a message that I wasn’t a real naturist because I had tan lines… which is still one of my favorite ridiculous internet moments. Imagine looking at another human and thinking, “Ah yes, I see the problem. Your skin is the wrong shade in places. Philosophically speaking.”
So yes, I am very aware that if my vulva were more visible in photos, that would not be read as neutral either. It would not be read as “oh, that’s just a body.” It would be read as a statement, an intention, a performance, or an invitation to a debate I did not sign up for. Not because I did anything differently, but because our culture does not know how to look at female bodies without adding a whole lot of extra meaning on top.
I’m also very aware that if I suddenly started posting images where my vulva was fully visible like the next coming of Jesus, there would be a whole lot of applause and encouragement from certain corners of the internet. Likes, hearts, comments, “you’re so brave,” “you’re so confident,” “thank you for sharing,” all of that. But I genuinely don’t know what portion of that applause would be about respect and what portion would be about people quietly enjoying the view in a way they would absolutely never admit out loud.
And that ambiguity alone is enough to make me hesitate, because I’m not particularly interested in accidentally becoming someone else’s unspoken fantasy while I’m just trying to exist in my own body.
Which means that even in spaces that are supposed to be about freedom, I still find myself doing a little bit of mental and physical image management. Not because I want to. It’s because after all these years in this body, I’m pretty fluent in how the world works.
I Do This With Taking Photos Too (Of Course I Do)
I also notice all of this very clearly when we’re taking photos. I’m suddenly hyper-aware of my angles, my posture, what’s visible and what isn’t, and I absolutely do the thing where I look at Kevin and go, “Nope. That one’s not getting posted.” Sometimes because the angle is weird, sometimes because I look like I’m mid-blink or mid-thought or mid-existential crisis, and sometimes very specifically because my vulva is more visible than I’m comfortable with and I don’t want to turn myself into a conversation I didn’t agree to have.
This is usually when my internal committee convenes. One part of me is saying, “It’s fine. It’s just a body.” Another part is saying, “Yes, but is it internet-fine or just real-life fine?” And a third part is quietly reaching for the veto stamp.
Sometimes Kevin takes a perfectly lovely photo and, from the outside, it probably looks completely normal and unremarkable. And it is. He’s not doing anything wrong, and he isn’t seeing anything wrong. But what he sees as neutral and fine doesn’t always feel neutral inside my body, and I don’t think that’s something you can really see unless you’re the one inhabiting it. So I’ll get that little internal “ehhh…” before my brain has fully decided what it thinks, which is apparently my nervous system’s way of saying, “Just flagging this as a nope nope!”
What’s funny is that every once in a while I’ll see a photo where I am more exposed, but it falls into what feels like an artistic realm instead of a naturist one, and I’m suddenly much more comfortable with it. If it feels like an image about light, shape, mood, or composition rather than about my body in naturism, my brain relaxes. It’s the same body, the same amount of skin, but a completely different internal response.
Apparently my comfort level is not about how naked I am, but about whether my nakedness feels like a subject or a prop, which is a very specific distinction I did not know my psyche was capable of making.
So yes, I have learned that I am not just a person with a body, I am also apparently the editor-in-chief of my own internal nudity magazine, complete with veto power and a very inconsistent submission policy.
Yes. My brain is wired weird.
What My Body Learned Without Asking Me
So this is where I think the leg-crossing actually comes from. Not shame. Not discomfort with nudity. But experience. My body learned very early on that most of me is socially neutral and one specific part of me is socially… complicated. Charged. Interpreted. Watched. So it quietly learned to manage that on my behalf.
That part of me isn’t just a body part in our culture. It’s where we concentrate all sorts of meaning that has nothing to do with skin or nerves and everything to do with being framed as power, desire, danger, morality, and control. It’s the site of sexuality, purity or impurity, and moral judgment. It’s “what men want”, “what must be protected”, “what must be hidden”, and “what defines a woman”, and also what people online feel entitled to comment on.
That’s a lot to put on one small area of skin. It’s not that this part of the body is actually more important. It’s that the world treats it like it is.
So my nervous system learned all this and filed it under “sensitive terrain”. That this is where reactions happen. Where attention gathers. Where meaning piles up. This is where jokes point, warnings point, rules point, shame points, and desire points. And you absorb that long before you ever think about it.
For many women… myself included… that learning doesn’t just come from culture in the abstract. It also comes from real moments where we learned that attention isn’t always neutral and that being fully seen can sometimes carry real risk.
And now, years later, even when I am consciously arguing with it, my nervous system is still out here doing its risk assessment like it’s being paid by the hour. Because the risk is real.
Thanks, nervous system. Very helpful. Truly.
So I cross my legs. Not because I’m rejecting naturism. Not because I’m hiding. But because I grew up in a culture that taught me one part of my body was a bigger deal than the rest, and apparently my muscles still remember that even when my brain is trying to move on.
I Know I’m Not the Only One Doing This
I also know I’m not alone in this, because I see it in other women all the time. I see it in how we sit, how we shift, how we angle ourselves on chairs and towels and benches without really thinking about it. It’s subtle and easy to miss unless you’re looking for it, but once you notice it, you can’t unsee it. There’s a shared body language there that doesn’t come from shame so much as from habit and awareness, from growing up in the same world and learning the same quiet rules.
Online, it looks different. A lot of the images that circulate of “female naturism” aren’t actually posted by women at all, and that alone changes the entire tone of what’s visible. And even when they are posted by women, many are posted for reasons that have nothing to do with everyday lived naturism. Many are posted for sexual expression, for attention, for income, or sometimes for branding. And sometimes for all of the above.
None of that is wrong, but it does mean that what we see online is heavily filtered by intent. When you’re not the one inhabiting the body in that moment, you’re not managing the social weight of it. You’re curating an image. So the online version of female nudity ends up being much more extreme, much more performative, and much less reflective of what most women actually do with their own bodies in real spaces.
And then there are the women who just… don’t care. At all. The ones at the beach or the club who sit however they want, legs open, bodies relaxed, zero apparent interest in how they’re being read by anyone. And honestly… “You go girl!” Truly. You go you magnificent, unbothered human. I salute you from my politely crossed-leg position.
There’s something kind of beautiful about watching someone be that comfortable in their own skin, like they’ve made a private peace with their body that the rest of us are still negotiating. I notice them with admiration and a mix of with curiosity and a tiny bit of awe. I find myself thinking, “Huh. I wonder what that feels like.” And then, almost immediately, “Do I actually want that? Or do I just think I’m supposed to want that?”
Because maybe freedom doesn’t look the same in every body. Maybe my version of comfort isn’t supposed to look like hers, and that’s okay too. Maybe the goal isn’t to become the woman who doesn’t give a shit, but to become the woman who gives exactly the amount of shit that actually feels right to her.
And I’m still figuring out what that amount of not giving a shit looks like for me.
This Obviously Isn’t About Legs
The more I’ve thought about this, the more I realize this whole thing isn’t actually about legs, or posture, or even vulvas. It’s about noticing myself inside a culture, and then noticing other women inside that same culture, and realizing that none of us are broken. We’re just all negotiating the same invisible forces in slightly different ways.
Some of us negotiate them by crossing our legs. Some of us negotiate them by not crossing them and very deliberately not caring. Some of us negotiate them by posting photos. Some of us negotiate them by not posting at all. None of those choices are moral. None of them are failures. They’re just different strategies for living inside a world that still hasn’t fully figured out how to be neutral about women’s bodies.
And maybe that’s the part that feels comforting rather than frustrating to me. That I’m not a weird outlier with a personal hangup. I’m just one woman in a long line of women all doing our own small, quiet negotiations with the same old social gravity.
Once I see it that way, it stops feeling like a problem I need to solve and starts feeling like something I’m simply becoming more conscious of. And that feels like a much kinder place to stand.
Yes, I Am Probably Writing This to Fix Myself a Little
I am probably not thinking or writing this purely as a neutral observer of my own weirdness. I am absolutely writing this in part because I would like to be more comfortable. I would like my body to catch up with my values. I would like to stop negotiating with my own knees about whether or not they can relax.
But I’m also not mad at myself about it.
If anything, I find it oddly endearing that my body is still trying to protect me from a world that doesn’t quite exist in the same way anymore after discovering naturism. It’s like finding an old emotional smoke detector that goes off every time you make toast. Annoying? Yes. Malicious? No. Just a bit outdated.
So maybe this isn’t something to “fix” so much as something to gently retrain. To notice. To laugh at. To slowly teach a new normal.
A Slightly Messy, Still-In-Progress Kind of Freedom
So yes, I still cross my legs sometimes and I still choose to keep control over how I am interpreted. I’m still a naturist. I’m still comfortable nude… mostly. I said this to Kevin yesterday. I find I am actually more comfortable with my body nude than in clothing. Bras make rolls. Pants make love handles. A form fitting shirt then highlights all of it. But when I’m nude… I am just me.
I’m just a human woman whose body learned certain things before she had language for them, and now those lessons are taking a little longer to unlearn.
That doesn’t feel like a failure to me.
It feels like being mid-update.
And honestly, I’m okay with that.
If you wish to read more, check out our article “Baring More Than Skin: The Power of Vulnerability in Naturism“.
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Interesting situation there. Not being a woman, I asked my wife to respond to your article and she said you are overthinking it. This will be our fourth summer visiting our CO resort so we are still new at this, but she says she just sits with no particular thought to how her legs are positioned. Sometimes it is more comfortable to have her legs crossed at the ankles, usually they are spread a little, but sometimes they may be bent at the knee one way or the other. She even sits up cross-legged (what we used to call Indian-style). She doesn’t seem to give a thought for what shows or not.
Guides for new nudists tell us “It is OK to look, but not to stare or gawk”. Is your reaction the other side of this, that is, “It’s OK to be seen, but not to show off”?
The important question is: What do you do when you are sitting there on a lounger at your favorite resort and realize your legs are crossed? You didn’t address this in your essay. Do you stay that way until your legs go numb? Or do you consciously uncross and open your legs in an effort to “change”? What do you feel if you force your legs open in public? Fear, embarrassment, anger, shame, or something else? Your answer could be very revealing (no pun intended)!
In any case, there is no problem here. There are no rules saying more than that you shouldn’t have clothes on, if you are a naturist. Beyond that, do what makes you comfortable.
I actually appreciate this comment and your wife’s perspective too. She’s probably right that from the outside it looks like overthinking. I won’t argue that my brain doesn’t occasionally take the scenic route. 😄
The article wasn’t really about how I should sit or whether I need to correct it in real time. I don’t sit there timing how long my legs are crossed or staging a dramatic “now I uncross!” moment for personal growth points. Most of the time it’s automatic and I only notice it afterward.
What I was exploring was the why behind the reflex… not trying to engineer a fix for it. More curiosity than correction.
If I notice I’m crossed, sometimes I stay that way, sometimes I shift, usually based on comfort and nothing more heroic than that. No numb legs in the name of naturist progress. I’m committed, but not that committed. But at this point in my journey… I would not force my legs open in front of others.
I think the interesting part for me is that two women can sit differently with equal comfort… your wife not thinking about it at all, and me occasionally noticing that I do and neither of us is doing naturism “wrong.” That realization was actually the heart of the piece.
And we fully agree on the last part: comfort beats rules every time.
Its all about motives. Its kind of obvious if a women is watching a man looking it her from a near distance and then purposely spreads she spread her legs wide apart. My wife will do this for me and I don’t want a other women sending an invitation. I don’t like fighting a temptation and neither does my wife. She was quite angry when I told her.
Excellent post. Naked yoga poses such as Happy Baby can really test ones limits.
Lol!!! We have not run into that yet!
Thanks Corin
I certainly prefer other areas to be shaved and I would never grow a beard, for example. However there is something about a bush that I like ( provided it’s not too thick!)
Kind regards
Hugh
Nope nope. Not my thing. 😄
Thanks for your article, Corin. It was an interesting, intimate read. I am a retired anthropologist, and one of the areas we study are practices that are common in all cultures called cultural universals. It’s amazing how many things humans do in common no matter what part of the world they come from. One of those cultural universals is that every culture has some form of modesty. It could be the way you dress, bathroom manners, how you look at people, and how you express sexuality. I don’t know if it’s common for women to cross their legs or keep their knees together in all cultures but I suspect it’s pretty common as a way to say, “this area is off-limits except only with certain people at certain times”. I think you are simply following your natural human instincts. All human beings, regardless of where they come from have a lot more in common than we sometimes think.
Thanks again,
Dave
That’s really interesting Dave. Thank you. 😊
Just another thought…
My daughter grew up nudist. During her preteen years she had no hang-up whatsoever; she’s sprawl out on her lounge chair at the resort, do cartwheels and splits (she was into gymnastics). Her Mom and I did not dissuade her from that behavior – because there wasn’t a reason to.
That changed at puberty. So one might wonder if puberty is a catalyst for a change in self-awareness and modesty. Which might very well be a universal experience
Really like the way you reflect on all this.
But as you are rightly saying-you are the “editor in chief” , you determine what you want to expose and what is kept hidden.
And that is an important aspect.
Referring to your reply to my earlier comment: “If this is subconsciously built in through human evolution… would not every woman have the same feelings? I don’t think everyone does.”
I agree – probably not all women would have those feelings, but I suspect many women would have feelings that they don’t quite understand, or are able to identify, that possibly stem from ancestral cultural roots and beliefs.
I don’t know for sure – it’s just a theory based on my own inquisitiveness into aspects of my own cultural make-up. But your opening section seems to back it up . . . “I still subconsciously cross my legs or keep my knees closed when nude. Like my body has its own separate opinion about this whole freedom thing and did not bother to consult me.”
A “separate opinion” that could be hard-wired from eons ago, perhaps?
Very good post!
My wife and I have had conversations on this very topic. We have a good friend at the resort, B., who is ‘habitually open-legged”; be it while sunbathing and/or socializing. Liz doesn’t judge for it; as a matter of fact she respects her lack of inhibition and her decision to express her nudity on her terms. But she would also say “that’s not for her”; speaking specifically on B. carrying an entire conversation with legs dangling apart on her lounge chair, and being unbothered by her vulva being quite present during the interaction.
Liz’s personal take on it is based on “practicality” with a “tinge of learned modesty.” When basking in the hot sun privately, it makes sense to her to completely relax, which for her implies not keeping her legs closed. If someone happens to walk by, she just sees it as a natural outcome of her relaxed state and no big deal. It’s the same when she is physically active (she loves to paddle-board nude) and knows her vulva will be “sporadically exposed.”
But socializing like B. just feels too “distracting” for her. It’s not “body-shame” because she knows her nudity is ok not matter what’s being seen; but openly sitting there “static” a few feet from other people might make an impression on others that will become a focus; and make her self-conscious. And then she can’t truly relax. So she just crosses her legs. And it’s ok.
It’s not the same for men, obviously, since our genitals are external. But it can be a struggle for women and their “learned modesty.” On the one hand, some will “force themselves” to look as uninhibited as the woman in the lounge chair next to them tanning open-legged; and it won’t feel natural. On the other hand, others will lean into their modesty and keep the legs closed/ankles crossed at all times; which can actually be uncomfortable and also feel unnatural.
My personal thought; which Liz would corroborate, is that the more time you spend naked, in a variety of settings and venues, the closer you will get to eventually finding your own personal comfort zone. You’re not going to be “more nudist” because you’re more uninhibited. Just relax and have fun and your body will do the rest.
Sorry for the long post!
Thank you. It’s nice to read about another woman’s perspective. As I experience naturism more and age… who knows what can change. I just found my personal experience interesting to work through.
Liz says “it’s definitely a journey!” 🙂
Could it be that part of the instinct to cross your legs comes from very early on, when your mother taught you to do it? I certainly don’t have any idea; it’s just a thought. My father never actually said that men sit with their legs open; it’s just what he did, and I saw many men doing, so I did it.
I don’t remember my mother ever saying those words. Maybe subconsciously I grew up noticing them all do it. I don’t know.
There’s a whole other aspect to this that you may not have even considered. And that is human evolution and ancient traditions that have become hard-wired in our makeup – even subconsciously.
For example, in our culture (New Zealand Māori) the womb is considered to be the Whare Tangata (House of Humanity) and the source of life, making the reproductive organs, particularly the vulva, deeply sacred and tapping into the power of creation.
The vulva is also a weapon of contempt. Traditionally, women would expose their buttocks or genitalia (whakapohane) to express utter disdain, scorn, or to challenge and humiliate someone. It is a deliberate, dramatic, and public act, used to show that the target is unworthy of respect, thus attacking their mana.
I also have Celtic ancestry, which is known for its Sheela na Gigs – stone carvings of women pulling open their exaggerated vulvas placed over doorways of churches and castles to ward off evil and demons. They believed the devil could not bear the sight of a woman’s genitals. And sometimes these carvings were sometimes used as “birthing stones,” loaned to women in labour to help bring about a quick and less painful delivery.
These things prompted me to do a quick Google search and it appears that there are many many cultures world-wide that affix a considerable about of spiritual and ritual significance to the female reproductive organs – so much so that they are given due respect and protection.
If this is subconsciously built in through human evolution… would not every woman have the same feelings? I don’t think everyone does.
Very well written. We all are on the journey and we all are at different stages of the journey. That is something beautiful.
Hi Corin
Very interesting article.
I personally think the vulva is a very beautiful part of the female body
I should add that I love pubic hair &, of course, that often hides much of the vulva.
This is one of your best articles. As a nudist and figurative artist I confront feelings and attitudes like this constantly. I try to make my paintings of nude men and women reflect this vulnerability, and agency. How our bodies move in space and place. How I negotiate the gaze, all of this goes into my art and I live it too as a woman with the awkward experience of navigating patriarchal power. I live as though the ability to be free isn’t just an idea for the powerful but as though I too, can travel thru the world safely. My portraits reflect my passion, my independence and my vulnerability.
Thank-you for this
Our brain takes a while to adjust to freedom. That sounds simplistic, but society and culture have put us in chains. We have been conditioned, and it’s going to take time to realize how wrong society and culture have been. As always, outstanding article about freedom, but also about psychological conditioning and attitudes, sociology and cultural changes. You are fighting the good fight!
Hi Corin,
I’m a guy so of course I don’t have female parts. But it was my assumption that a nude woman would want to protect herself keeping her leg crossed for the same reason we all use a towel to sit on, we are trying to prevent getting an infection due to more than the usual exposure to the elements. I know I would be uncomfortable with the idea of sitting on a chair another naked person may have been sitting on without a towel. Personally I don’t want that type of exposure to germs that could cause some uncomfortable infections. I think a woman would want to cross her legs for health reasons to keep down there less exposed to germs that might be lingering on a chair when sitting down.
I feel it may be in a woman’s best interest to keep in mind that sort of possible concern. I have always thought of it as the reason why a woman would want to keep there legs crossed for that reason whenever they are naked.
Thanks for your comment. Just to clear up the hygiene part. Crossing or uncrossing legs isn’t a thing women do for infection prevention. Vulvas don’t get infections from fresh air or sitting posture, and the vagina is not an open doorway to the outside world. It is a self-regulating, internally protected environment. Just like a penis doesn’t easily get infected through the hole from the air. Air is actually very good hygienically for our vulvas.
Naturist spaces already solve the actual hygiene issue with personal towels, which applies to everyone. So no… my legs aren’t performing a medical function. lol!
They’re just doing what my nervous system learned to do.
I’m not sure if this relates, but:
Once at a monthly swim at the old Rocky Mountain Naturists in Denver, the event was wrapping up and I went into a locker room to (sadly as always) get re-dressed. A mother and daughter were in there dressing. Without even thinking about it, I stopped and turned to go out! But then I stopped myself again, turned back and went in very deliberately. After all, I’d been interacting with these two women and many others in the nude all night! But that early “training” took over for an instant.
When I mentioned my reaction to the two women, we all had a good laugh. I think that did more than anything to reset my brain to “okay with this.”
That’s funny! 😅
Hi Corin
Fascinating piece of self analysis. It must be something deep in the psyche that makes some women cross their legs. My wife never does, but then she has a bush.
Talking of which, I would be interested in your views as to why some people shave down there and some don’t
Kind regards
Hugh
It’s just a grooming preference. Some women shave their arm pits, some don’t. Some shave their legs, some don’t. My preference on me has been no body hair for 35 years. Maybe it’s part of my psyche as well. 😃