Let’s go ahead and lift the fig leaf off this one. Gay nudism is one of those topics that’ll light up a group chat, spark side-eyes at brunch, and split your timeline between “Yassss, I love it!” and “Uh uh, that ain’t for me.” But more often than not, folks are reacting to what they think it is—not what it actually is.
I’m not gonna pretend like everyone who’s ever stripped down at a gay nudist event is doing it for the same reasons or with the same vibes. That’s the beauty of it—it’s a mixed bag. Some folks are there for peace. Some for play. Some are just tired of clothes. But underneath all that skin is a whole bunch of myths that need to be addressed, especially when it comes to how we view nudism in Black gay and queer spaces.
This ain’t a deep dive into nudist history, and I’m not handing out body-positive brochures at the door. I’m just here to clear the air with a bit of honesty, some humor, and a nod to the folks out there living free—and fully unclothed. So, let’s bust some myths wide open.
1. It’s a white male thing – and the men of color who are into white men.
Let’s shut this one all the way down. Yes, white men are more visible in nudist spaces, but that’s because visibility and access have always worked in their favor. But Black and Brown folks—especially same-gender-loving men—have always had a presence in nudism, whether it’s in home-based gatherings, Black retreats, or private communities that don’t show up on Instagram. And no, being into nudism doesn’t automatically mean you’re into white men. The assumption that Black gay nudists are out here chasing Euro approval is tired and lazy. We exist for us, too.
2. It’s an older male thing, especially retirees.
True, you will see your fair share of silver foxes and salt-and-pepper daddies in these spaces. But don’t let the AARP crowd fool you—Millennials and even some of these bold-ass Gen Z babies are stripping down, too. Age isn’t a barrier; it’s just that older men often have less shame, more time, and better stories. Some of them helped build these communities. And if you’ve ever seen a 62-year-old doing downward dog naked by the pool with no shame? That is goals.
3. Black men who are into nudism are snow queens.
This stereotype is a messy mix of anti-Blackness and old-ass respectability politics. Not every Black nudist is running toward whiteness. Many of us are reclaiming space, showing love to our bodies, and building community in all-Black or majority-Black spaces. Being a nudist doesn’t mean you’re divesting from Blackness—it might actually mean you’re investing deeper into it. Let’s not project personal preferences or assumptions onto a whole culture.
4. It is a lifestyle for only or mostly fit men.
I don’t know who started this Marvel-body-only myth, but it’s got to go. Nudist spaces, especially the gay/queer ones, are a lot more diverse than the Insta-algorithm would have you believe. Yes, you’ll see some folks built like a Men’s Health cover—but you’ll also see soft bellies, stretch marks, skinny dudes with bony knees, and everything in between. The point isn’t perfection—it’s presence. And being comfortable in your skin doesn’t mean you’re auditioning for a fitness ad.
5. It is a lifestyle for only or mostly out-of-shape (fat) men.
On the flip side, there’s also a weird assumption that only “bigger” men are nudists because they’ve “given up” on clothes or are in spaces where appearance doesn’t matter. Absolutely not. Plenty of plus-sized kings walk around with confidence most gym bros can’t touch. Nudism isn’t about defeat—it’s about liberation. And you’d be surprised how many folks are out here loving themselves more when the clothes come off.
6. Gatherings occur only at beaches, campgrounds, and other outdoor venues.
Sure, there’s a certain magic in being naked in nature—sun on your back, breeze on your everything—but nudist events aren’t limited to the woods. We’re talking house parties, indoor spas, themed events in city lofts, and even private cruises. Yes, there are Black-owned naked brunches, day parties, and body-positive yoga sessions. The scene has evolved. So don’t assume you need hiking boots or a bug spray to participate.
7. The majority of participants are adult entertainers and/or leathermen.
This one is just lazy thinking. Yes, some folks in the adult world enjoy nudism, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But assuming every naked man in the room is a porn star or Dom Daddy? That’s like thinking every gym rat is a personal trainer. Most nudists are regular-ass people—teachers, creatives, business folks, nurses, IT guys. Nudism isn’t a kink for everyone; for many, it’s just normal.
8. Everyone is comfortably naked in front of everyone.
Listen—confidence is a journey. Not everybody shows up ready to strip down with pride. Some folks start with a towel, a sarong, or just a walk around the space before undressing. There’s room for nerves. Nobody’s throwing side-eyes if you’re shy. In fact, most experienced nudists remember that first-time awkwardness and respect the process. It’s about comfort, not compliance.
9. Gatherings lead into orgies, fetishes, and jack-off sessions.
Let’s not confuse nudism with sex parties. Yes, there are sexual spaces where nudity is part of the scene—but in nudist settings, the focus is body freedom, not bedroom activity. Most events have clear boundaries, rules, and community norms. If folks are crossing the line, they’re either in the wrong space—or need a lil’ talking-to from the hosts. Nudity ≠ consent. Period.
10. Men get erections around each other in gatherings.
Look, it can happen—it’s natural, not scandalous. But it’s rare, and when it does happen, most folks handle it with maturity. We’re grown. The body does what it does. But trust: erections are not the norm in nudist spaces. And the idea that everyone’s out there pitching tents in full view is just wrong. Most folks are focused on conversations, sunbathing, maybe a snack—and not trying to be a walking Cialis commercial.
11. Men who attend nudist events are nudists.
Not always. Some people try it once and bounce. Others enjoy the vibe but don’t identify with the label. Then you’ve got folks who just support their friends or partners. Nudism, like queerness, is a spectrum. Some are all in—year-round, bare-all warriors. Others pop in and out. There’s room for curiosity, community, and even contradiction. Don’t gatekeep the experience.
So, where does that leave us? Hopefully, a little more informed and a lot less judgmental. Nudism in the gay/queer community—especially among Black same-gender-loving folks—is layered. It’s not a monolith, not a kink, not a status symbol, and definitely not a white man’s club. It’s a space of freedom, vulnerability, and sometimes just… not wanting to sweat through clothes on a hot-ass day.
And let’s be real: our people have been baring bodies and celebrating them long before social media or European “naturist” labels. From tribal rituals to protest marches to Soul Train dance floors—we’ve always had a relationship with our bodies that was spiritual, not shameful. Nudism is just one more way to honor that.
So the next time somebody side-eyes you for mentioning a naked retreat or a clothing-optional party, hit ’em with some facts. Or better yet, invite them to try it themselves. You never know who’s one towel drop away from liberation.
And there you have it!
Let me know what you think about this post. What additional gems would you drop on this topic? Drop it in the comments and share it with friends who enjoy topics like this!
Leave a Reply