The Healing Power of the Female Gaze

Finding sisterhood in seeing each other fully

A couple of months ago, I went to Hawaii. Though there were many different fun and relaxing activities to enjoy there, something kept drawing me to the idea of going to the sauna. It was as if an inner voice was calling me toward some kind of healing meant to happen there.

I’ve always loved the humidity and moisture of the sauna. Many people cringe at the sweat that pours off them in humid weather, but my dry skin thrives off it. However, as I stripped down in the locker room and wrapped the complimentary robe around me, I knew my butterflies were about more than just the tea tree-scented steam room I was about to enter.

It was about the freedom to be naked.

And not just to be naked, but to be naked with other women.

Before you ask: no, I’m not gay. I’ve been lusting after men from a far younger age than I’d like to admit. My excitement had nothing to do with the opportunity to see other women’s lady bits.

As I settled down into the hot tub surrounded by plants and the chirping of birds, many mixed emotions coursed through me. It was kind of a thrill just to be exposed. Watching my own breasts bob in the water in front of me like apples, knowing another woman could come in any second, filled me with nervous anticipation.

What would it be like to be naked in the presence of another woman? And how on Earth did this get to be such a revolutionary experience? I’m more familiar with the female anatomy than I am with the male, given the fact that it’s my own. I’ve seen more naked female bodies in media than I can count. I’m intimately familiar with the diverse appearances of nipples, vulvas, and different body types.

And yet, I can count the times I’ve been in the presence of another naked woman on one hand. What is so public in the eyes of the world somehow becomes private when it’s just us. While we easily undress in front of partners with different genitalia, in each other’s presence, we become shy and modest.

A woman eventually came in. She was a young woman about my age with long blond hair, her body wrapped in a towel. Her muscular body clearly indicated an athletic lifestyle. She moved with slow, self-conscious movements around the facility, clearly as hyper-aware of my presence as I was of hers.

As women, we live our lives hyper-aware of the conflicting expectations placed on our bodies. We’re meant to be sexy when a partner is present, but sexy in any other context makes us sluts. Our nudity is a double-edged sword that can make us either drooled-over or disgusting, depending on the mood of the audience. Our bodies are constantly compared to each other’s in a judging environment that encourages us to do the same.

So for two women to be not only naked, but naked together, felt somehow subversive. Bold. Like a power that only manifests when multiple women are together was gathering in the air.

Eventually, the game had to end. I averted my gaze, pretending to be fascinated with the trees overhead, as she removed her towel and climbed into the hot tub.

Neither of us said a word, but the humid air was thick with meaning. Our eyes met. She cast me a cautious smile.

Hi. Nice to meet you, I thought.

I smiled back, and her shoulders relaxed. I wondered if she was thinking the same words I was.

The world has sold us a lie about who we are to each other– and yet here we are, experiencing the truth.

We see the main character in a romantic comedy or drama, removing her clothes to have sex with her love interest for the first time. We see women in porn, flaunting surgically perfected genitals and doing things they don’t seem to be enjoying. We see our bodies unwrapped like a present for the big denouement of a movie in which we barely play a supporting role.

Rarely do we see a woman who stripped buck-naked just because she felt like it. A woman who seems to know exactly what she likes and how she feels, and lives according to that inner voice at all times. A woman who is clearly sexual, but isn’t spoken for–she speaks for herself.

Even more rarely do we see multiple women naked together, outside of a TV threesome that doesn’t even pretend to be for the pleasure of female viewers. And almost never do we celebrate the beauty of each other’s bodies, lest it lessen the value of our own.

To be clear: I have zero problem with nudity in the media. What I’m calling out is the lopsidedness of the way we’re represented. Our natural form almost always connotes not just sex–but sex with someone else. Either we’re depicted as the virginal wife figure you’re supposed to fall in love with, or the whore who gives it away for free. Our sexuality is rarely depicted as ours to feel; ours to experience; ours not to give away, but to share in any way we want to.

Seeing each other’s bodies not through someone else’s eyes, but through our own, is tremendously healing. It’s a fuck-you to all the shame that has ever been attached to our bodies and our sexuality. It’s a powerful statement of self-ownership in a world intent on commodifying and demonizing your sexuality at the same time. It’s a decision to reject the narrative that has been pushed on us that we are enemies, and claim our birthright of sisterhood.

I believe female sexuality is one of the final frontiers in gender equality. And I’m not talking so much about sex itself, although that comes into play too. I’m talking about how our sexuality is perceived at the most basic level. And this includes how we perceive ourselves.

As long as everyone can admire our own form but us, then we’re like animals in a zoo–seen, but fenced in by hypocritical judgment, our wildness dimmed and our self-ownership ripped away.

The revolution starts within. By gazing upon our bodies through our own two eyes, we can begin to experience the truth of our sisterhood, and claim the immense power that was always meant to be ours.

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