We’re Women, Not Your Marketing Strategy

I’ve noticed something rather peculiar about the way women are sometimes discussed in naturism.

We’re apparently very important.

Desperately important, in fact.

Organisations want more of us. Events want more of us. Social media pages want photographs of us. Promotional material wants smiling women enjoying themselves, preferably somewhere picturesque with lovely lighting and absolutely no indication that we might have opinions about anything.

And yet, sometimes, I find myself wondering whether everybody is quite as interested in what we have to say.

Because there’s a rather enormous difference between wanting women at your events and wanting women in your organisation as equals.

And I think we need to talk about it.

I’ve been thinking about this whenever I see conversations about attracting more women into naturism. There’s often a perfectly reasonable starting point: how do we make women feel welcome, comfortable and safe?

Wonderful. Let’s discuss that.

But occasionally the conversation takes a peculiar turn. How do we get more women through the door? How do we improve the gender balance? How do we make an event more attractive to men by encouraging women to attend?

Hang on.

When did I become part of the entertainment package?

I’m thirty-one. I’m a mum. I’m a woman who enjoys naturism because it’s a normal part of how I live. I have responsibilities, friendships, ambitions, opinions and an occasionally impressive ability to forget why I’ve walked into the kitchen.

I am not a complimentary feature included with somebody else’s membership.

Nor am I an incentive for a man to buy a ticket.

And yet there are moments when the language surrounding women in naturism makes us sound less like equal members of a community and more like a resource somebody is trying to acquire.

More women means better numbers. More women means better publicity. More women means more men might come.

But what does more women actually mean for the women themselves?

That’s the question I want answered.

Because equality isn’t simply counting how many women are in a photograph or celebrating that a particular event has achieved a respectable gender ratio.

Equality is about influence.

It’s about whether women help make decisions, whether our concerns are taken seriously, whether we can challenge poor behaviour without being dismissed as difficult, and whether the opportunities offered to us are genuinely the same as those offered to men.

It’s about being listened to when we speak, not merely being noticed when we arrive.

And yes, that includes photographs.

I’m perfectly comfortable with my naked body. Naturism isn’t something I need to apologise for or disguise. But my comfort with nudity doesn’t mean my image automatically belongs to a club, an organiser or somebody running a social media account.

If I agree to be photographed, I should understand how that photograph will be used. My consent should be respected, and I should be able to participate fully in naturism without feeling that appearing in promotional material is somehow part of the deal.

A woman can be confident, sociable, comfortable with nudity and still say no.

That’s not a contradiction.

That’s autonomy.

I also find the occasional assumption that women are naturally responsible for making an environment feel safer or more respectable rather exhausting.

A woman arriving at an event doesn’t magically transform the behaviour of everybody around her. Nor should she be expected to provide reassurance, companionship or social credibility simply because she’s female.

Good standards are the responsibility of the organisation and everybody participating.

Not the women who’ve turned up.

And here’s something else that bothers me.

When we constantly talk about women as a group we need to attract, we risk forgetting that women aren’t all looking for the same thing.

Some want friendship. Some enjoy walking, swimming or travelling. Some are interested in wellbeing and the philosophy of naturism.

Some want opportunities to organise events or lead organisations. Others simply want a peaceful afternoon without anybody making their presence into a statement about gender balance.

All perfectly reasonable.

None requires us to become somebody else’s selling point.

I think there’s a better way to approach this.

Instead of asking, How can we get more women?, perhaps organisations should begin by asking, What kind of community are we creating, and do women have an equal say in shaping it?

That’s a much more interesting question.

It’s also a more uncomfortable one, because it requires organisations to examine their culture rather than simply their publicity.

Who makes the decisions? Who gets listened to? Who feels comfortable challenging something? Who is represented in leadership? Are complaints handled fairly? Are women’s contributions recognised beyond their appearance or attendance?

Those answers tell us far more about equality than a photograph of twenty smiling people ever could.

And I want to acknowledge something important here: there are wonderful men within naturism who understand all of this instinctively. Men who are respectful, supportive, thoughtful and genuinely interested in building communities where everybody belongs.

This isn’t women against men.

It’s people against the idea that another person’s value can be measured by what their presence contributes to somebody else’s objectives.

And this is precisely why I value what Naturism Wales is building.

Its philosophy, Every Body Matters, isn’t about how many women appear in photographs or whether their presence makes an event more commercially attractive. It’s about creating a community where people are valued for who they are, where women have a voice, and where belonging isn’t conditional on appearance, gender or somebody else’s expectations.

That’s the difference between attracting women and genuinely welcoming them.

Not every body matters because it improves the photographs.

Not every body matters because it helps sell tickets.

Not every body matters because it makes the membership figures look better.

Every body matters because behind every body is a person.

Someone with a voice, a history, choices, boundaries and something valuable to contribute.

And if we genuinely believe in equality, women shouldn’t have to be especially attractive, especially confident, especially sociable or especially willing to be photographed before their presence is considered valuable.

We should matter simply because we’re people.

I don’t want to be somebody’s recruitment strategy.

I want to be their equal.

And surely, in a community that celebrates freedom, dignity and acceptance, that shouldn’t be such a revolutionary idea.

So here’s my question: are naturist organisations genuinely creating more opportunities for women, or are some simply finding more opportunities to use women?