There’s been quite a bit of brouhaha about this course:
Visual arts students at the University of California, San Diego, must exhibit themselves in the buff before a naked class of 20 and a nude professor or fail an upper-level course, a disgusted mom told KGTV-TV.
But faculty members and former students defend the elective course and maintain that “performing the self” class participants may also employ figurative nudity to pass the final.
The issue is over a syllabus entry that refers to an “erotic self” assignment, requiring students to “create a gesture that traces the outlines or speaks about your ”˜erotic self(s).’”…
“We had a choice between being nude or doing something emotionally ”˜naked’ and every student but one chose to do the nude performance,” one commenter said. “It was uncomfortable for some of us but we were adults and knew what we were getting ourselves into from day one of the class.”
Count me unsurprised, because this sort of thing is hardly new. How do I know that? I encountered something similar in a graduate program in counseling in which I was briefly enrolled during the late 70s. I was a few years out of school but still quite young, which was typical of the students there.
The program had regular courses, but it also featured shorter workshops that a graduate student could take for less credit. I was a full-time student there, enrolled in a two-day workshop that was supposed to be about something like “Reading Body Language.” As an ex-dancer, I figured this would be right up my alley, but unlike some of the students I hadn’t heard the advance buzz about the course, which was that it involved getting naked.
The students were to sit in a semicircle on the floor towards the front of the room as the professor, a woman, explained what was about to happen. There were probably about twenty of us. We were instructed to go up to the front of the room two by two (our choice of a partner), face the audience, and disrobe. Then, standing next to each other, we were to rotate slowly around with quarter-turns, and then have the class members evaluate our posture and body language and what it meant about our psyches.
The teacher was careful to explain that no one had to disrobe any more than he/she felt comfortable with, but she encouraged us to go the full monty because that would be the most valuable in terms of the learning process. I was uncomfortable not just with the idea of disrobing myself, but with the idea of sitting there at the feet of a succession of naked people, most of whom I had never met before and most of whom (actually, all of whom) I had no desire to see naked. And that’s true even though we were all pretty young at the time.
I still remember the first volunteer, although I don’t recall who he was paired with. He seemed incredibly eager to do this; practically jumped up from his perch on the floor in order to go first. I realized almost immediately, as in one fluid motion he unzipped the one-piece jumpsuit he’d worn for the occasion and revealed that he had nothing whatsoever on under it, that he had known about the exercise in advance and planned ahead by choosing his outfit carefully.
I formulated my own plan. I volunteered to be in the second pairing. As I stood before the group, I slowly and carefully removed my shoes and socks, and then gave a little speech. In it I said that I was very uncomfortable with the exercise as a whole. I did not think we were trained properly to evaluate people’s bodies. I did not think this exercise had any educational value. I thought that people were going to feel coerced and pressured to remove more than they felt okay about even though they were given the choice, because of the group pressure involved. Most people didn’t want to convey the idea that they were wimps. So I had volunteered early in order to act as an example for anyone who might be feeling uncomfortable but shy about saying it, and I invited anyone who felt that way to join me in my pairing. One person did.
Even clothed, it was disturbing to be up there, pivoting and posing. I noticed that as the day wore on—and about half the students completely disrobed, with the remainder coming very close—I retained the same sense of outrage and upset, mostly about the subtle coercion and the stupidity of the assignment in general.
In order to get credit we had to write a paper on the experience. I used mine to criticize the workshop, among other things. I still have it in my files; it’s one of the few papers I’ve saved from my time in school. The following is an excerpt from it:
One reason for my feelings [of discomfort] seemed to be a sense of violation of my human dignity, even with my clothes on, at being coolly analyzed by a group of observers, even in the name of learning. I have a very well-developed sense of privacy and prefer to choose those with whom I become intimate, and I felt this sense to be violated both as an observer and a subject. It seemed very different from a dressing-room situation in which I am comfortable with seeing the nude bodies of strangers. Everyone’s tension level seemed very high, and there was something very cold, analytic, and coercive about the situation, at least as I perceived it. The extreme and dramatic image that kept coming to my mind, making me very sad and anxious, was that of concentration camp victims. It is certainly no accident that they were asked to disrobe in public before being killed, because of the sense of humiliation it engendered…
I realize that you, as leader, made it clear that we were able to resist the group pressure to disrobe if it didn’t feel right to us. I don’t know if the people who might be hurt the most by going along with the group pressure would be able to resist it. Also, it was nearly impossible, as an observer, to resist the group pressure to be instantly intimate by watching the nudity of others. I, as an observer, did not perceive the atmosphere to be particularly supportive or mature. I really felt that it was more an exercise in group inclusion than a teaching exercise. To me, the emphasis was not on learning to study the body as a therapeutic tool (after all, few of us will see our patients in the nude), but on the students themselves as clients, patients, group members, and fellow-travelers on the road to self-awareness…I was personally troubled by a confusion as to your aims and the aims of the other students. When I say it seemed to be a group inclusion exercise, I mean this in the same sense as an initiation rite. And, as with many initiations, the group seemed to feel that the more difficult the initiation the more valuable the group therefore must be.
I realize that I am probably a minority of one in this group, but I wanted to write about it to tell you how a certain type of fairly private, reserved person might react. I am sure that some people have similar reactions, and perhaps you don’t often get feedback from them.
Later, I wrote:
…that is one big danger of [such exercises]. Acting-out, exhibitionist personalities are given the perfect stage on which to show each other how “free”‘ they are. To me, it proves nothing, except the potency of groups and the willingness of most people to follow the leader.
Looking back over thirty-five years later, I am struck by a few things, but they all come under the heading of plus ça change, plus c’est la méme chose. One was how set my personality already seemed to be. Another was that, although I wrote this back when I was politically liberal—and didn’t see anything the least bit political in the situation or in my paper—it not only was deeply political but my stance revealed my conservatism without my realizing it, as well as my commitment to the rights of the individual and my awareness of follow-the-leader group coercion. It’s also clear how much the educational system had already attained its current liberal stance and attitudes.
I dropped out of the program entirely shortly after that. It was about twenty years before I went back and got my degree, in another program and another time.