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Challenge Accepted: Naked On Stage

It’s a man’s world. But it wouldn’t be nothing without a woman or a girl. Right? Nudity on stage, particularly the Seymour stages that play host to the University of Sydney revues, is definitely a man’s world. A whole lotta cock, not a lotta clunge. I’m here to change that. Challenge accepted. I joined the…

Peoria_Center_Performing_Arts_stage

It’s a man’s world. But it wouldn’t be nothing without a woman or a girl. Right?
Nudity on stage, particularly the Seymour stages that play host to the University of Sydney revues, is definitely a man’s world. A whole lotta cock, not a lotta clunge. I’m here to change that. Challenge accepted.
I joined the queer revue this year, my only qualification being my tendency to prefer women to men. I can’t sing, act, or dance (in time); yet here I am. And on a whim, I put my hand up to be in the naked sketch.
Nudity in revues has a long tradition. Everyone does it. Most of the time, it’s guys. Most of the time, it’s pointless; nudity for the sake of nudity. This was no exception, let’s be honest.
We had our first audience last Tuesday.
I’m on stage immediately prior to the naked scene, so spend the entire scene in a dressing gown, and nothing else. I then have to whip off the dressing gown on stage, adding something of a strip tease to the already awkward nakedness.
Now completely naked, save a small triangle of modesty fabric, I turn to face the audience, a lone spotlight on me, and one other naked fellow. Not a single whoop, cheer or wolf whistle. I feel very bare, and I’m certain everyone can see my heart jumping out of my chest – especially if I haven’t covered myself properly. And just like that, it’s over. I’m off stage, scrambling to find my dressing gown.
Audience #2 was better. There were a few wolf whistles, though I suspect most of them were for my fellow cast member’s chiseled jaw line (and other body parts).
I thought getting naked in front of 750 people would be a way to celebrate some body positivity, to figure out a way to be comfortable on my own skin, but instead, judging by audience reactions, I should just keep my clothes on and dance ridiculously.
It’s not really a man’s world. It’s a clothed world, and people prefer lesbians knitting to copious amount of bare flesh.