One Night in a Japanese Onsen
We pattered down the quiet hallways in our socks and yukatas (cotton kimono-type robes), afraid of disrupting the peaceful air that engulfed the Hakone Tenseien hotel. On the bus ride to the hotel, we had been given information on how to use the onsen, rules for proper behavior, and basic dos and don’ts. But all of us had half-listened, drifting in and out of updating our social media accounts, looking out the window as we wound up the mountainous path, and trying to close our eyes before the evening that lay ahead of us. The instructions seemed strict, however, with no punishment observed for flouters. So we weren’t worried, but also didn’t fully know what to expect.
The friend I was rooming with at the time garnered the bright idea of going to the onsen at dinner time — neither of us was hungry and we knew that 6 pm was the perfect time to absorb the bareness of the experience with a sparse audience. As we entered the locker room, unsure of whether what we’d brought with us was correct or not, we looked around us at the bare bodies of fellow onsen-goers and realized we were really in it. There was no turning back.
Having grown up in a more conservative society that didn’t fully appreciate the skin exposure of a simple 2-piece swimsuit, I took the permission of our tour guide to go in with a swimsuit very seriously. My friend wore her bikini bottom, knowing that complete nudity was not something we were prepared for. We entered the onsen with one big towel and one little, and showered before entering the hot bath, as per requirement.
As the hot water took over us in the shower, inviting us to peel off the rest of our clothing, we unitedly decided to just go for it. There were perhaps 3 other women in the large well-laid-out room, which gave us enough space to ease into the comfort of the tub. As soon as we slipped into it, after a few rounds of — ok don’t peek now I’m going in! — we were one with the onsen.
We dipped ourselves in low, allowing the pleasant hot water to wash over our skin. We giggled, hair in messy buns and our friendship having intensely strengthened in that very instant, feeling both internal and external warmth. The onsen had a section outside as well, under the starry sky — the outside air chilly, but the tub steamy and bubbling. To say it was relaxing would be an understatement. It was simply surreal.
Other Japanese women came and went, comfortable and knowing exactly what to do and in what order. The ease displayed in their faces and demeanor put us at ease as well, succumbing more and more to the experience with each moment. The initially planned 30 minutes turned into 2 hours, as we dipped ourselves in multiple of the 6 available tubs, then hopping to the steam room and the sauna, sitting on stools next to each other and using a gushing faucet to bathe with copious helpings of provided body wash, shampoo and conditioner.
A friend had once asked me — do you wash the bottoms of your feet? I thought of her as I scrubbed every part of my body thoroughly, in front of a mirror directly opposite me, watching this rejuvenated, calmer version of myself staring back.
‘This feels kinda sexy right?’ said my friend in the stall next to me, ‘watching yourself showering and pampering yourself?’
To say kinda sexy is, again, an understatement. It was intensely uplifting and empowering, in a kinda sexy way.
Women all over the world have held themselves to unrealistic beauty standards since time immemorial. We see ads in magazines and watch celebrities on tv try to meet them, only to expose 2 years later that they suffered personal traumas and mental health issues in the process. We allow ourselves to belong to brands and products, using make-up and accessories to find ways to match this misinformed bar. Our friend asks us — does this look good on me or make me look weird? ‘You do you, sis!’ we cheer on, as we silently battle our own self-esteem issues. We try so hard to fight these stereotypes, rather than become victims of a system that owns us, but somehow, somewhere, we slip up.
However, in this onsen, we didn’t belong to any products or brands. We were stripped of anything that could define how we looked or being of the right size or shape. We were bare, fully exposed, clean and free. No one to judge us, but ourselves. And so for that brief 2-hour period, we didn’t. There was simply nothing to judge.
My friend and I finished our showers and hair-drying process, lathered ourselves with Japanese face milk, and made our ways back to our rooms. On the way we found a group of our male friends, in their yukatas, giggling and making their way to the male onsen. Men too are part of a system that facilitates toxic masculinity, that enables strong comparisons and that gives them reason to feel lesser than each other because of the size of their biceps or how much hair they have on their heads. In that moment I felt incredibly pleased for them. I wanted them to feel the entire process of beautification and taking care of oneself, which is sometimes seen as a dominantly feminine trait — the world of skin care and hair care which they declare that they don’t understand. On that evening in the onsen, they were one with nature as well.
When my friend and I came out of our showers to the locker area, we saw a little girl with her mom, nakedly running around, free. What a life she would grow up to have — having been raised around women who were so comfortable with their own bodies, who weren’t afraid to be themselves in front of each other, and who said — fuck it, let’s take our bikini bottoms off tonight.
