Censorship at Burning Man 2009

.....
ART-ocrats [Nevartocrats]: censors who stifle Burning Man. [2009]
.....

STROLLING NAKED THRU THE STREETS OF THE CITY




I want to share my recent experiences in San Francisco, Aug 28-29, 2009. I'm a frequent visitor to SF; and always enjoy the street fairs and festivals naked. I've also strolled naked on Castro a few times. However, what I did this time, went beyond anything I'd ever done before.
Inspired by stories that the SF Police Department has finally accepted that simple nudity is not illegal, I decided to test the waters.
On Friday, which was very warm, I left my motel in the Civic Center area, wearing a lava lava around my waist; heading west [outbound, toward The Castro] along Market St.
Interstate 80 dumps its traffic onto Market and Octavia streets
[near the SF queer Center]. As I approached this intersection, I decided to take the plunge. Without stopping, I casually removed the lava lava, and put it into my backpack. Now, I was wearing only my walking shoes, socks, a cap, and lots of #55 sunscreen.

I stopped at the intersection, along with my fellow walkers waiting for the light to change. I don’t recall any significant responses to my attire except for what might have been a muffled chuckle. I wasn’t expecting applause.

After a while, I heard the ‘clack, clack, clack’ of a fast approaching pair of heels behind me. Soon a young Asian woman appeared beside me, laughing. She said she had a bet with a man with whom she was walking.
I asked her what sort of bet. She said it was over whether I was really naked, or just bare-assed. I smiled and asked who won the bet. They both laughed, then the man said he had. We continued walking along together for a while, till they entered a café.

Before long I arrived at Castro and Market [in the main queer area]. The street and sidewalks were busy. I got a few odd looks, many approving grins, thumbs up, and words of encouragement. Only one elderly man glared at me as I strolled down toward 18th Street & Castro.
I went into a bookstore, offering to leave my bag with the man at the register. He smiled and said I could keep it. I looked at a few books,
then went back to the street.
After a further bit of window browsing, I headed back up the other side of Castro to the 440 bar.

Nudity may be fine in the streets but it is not okay in bars;
however, my lava lava is okay.
I stepped to the entrance and wrapped myself with the light garment while the bartender looked on approvingly. Before I ordered my beer,
the bartender greeted me amicably and added, with a broad grin, that I had balls. Sipping my beer and visiting with a few other guys gave me some time to think about other places I might visit.
One guy suggested I head up to the Haight [the "hippie" district of the 1960s, still bohemian].

Upon leaving the bar, I decided to head up Castro Street into the Haight. Just beyond where Castro turns into Divisadero, an African-American man stepped onto the sidewalk from the gated entrance to his home. He smiled with a laugh, and commented that it was good day to walk naked. I agreed. He told me to enjoy myself and not get arrested.
Now, by this time I’d already been out naked for almost three hours. A few SFPD cars had driven past me, without even a brief slow-down. I told the man a little about my day, which he seemed genuinely pleased to hear. We parted company at Haight where I turned west [toward the hip district].

I stopped at the anarchist bookstore, when I noticed a book on Paganism in the window. I’d visited this bookstore on many occasions and am known by the folks who run it; but I had never visited it naked.
I asked the man at the register about the book in the window. He found another copy on the shelves which I then bought. While making the transaction, he asked if I’d had any problems from the police or anyone else. I told them that I’d had a fine day and hoped to continue it.

I continued my walk along Haight, stopping in a couple of shops. One shop keeper politely told me to put something on or to leave. I left wondering how long it might be before I see a sign in a shop window,
"No shoes, no shirt, no pants, no service."

I continued my wanderings along Haight, then back to Castro, down Market, and to my motel, virtually the entire day naked. The owner and manager of the motel, where I have been a regular guest for many years, accept me as a nudist. They advise other guests to remember this is San Francisco; and not to be offended by any of the unusual characters they might encounter.
[....]

-- B


.............................
[ fwd by SUN of SF ]
...............................
.....................

..................

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2009/09/03/violetblue0903.DTL


.....