BINNEKRING BLOG

CRITICAL TITS – ONLY A TIT SEES BOOBS

 (words: Zane Dickens | photos: above, Caroline King, below, Jonx Pillemer)

 

Let’s get something clear – I’m a guy, and I was surrounded by hundreds of bare chested beauties frolicking through the desert. I’m serious about the frolicking, they were dancing, shouting, jumping and cavorting like nobody’s business.

You get the picture. 

Or maybe you don’t. Think Rolling Stones concert in the 70’s, with blonde bombshells and brazen brunettes everywhere wearing less than would keep the vicar calm. There they were all gyrating and jamming, marching and parading up Binnekring – all the while with their tits out. It was raucous.

But that’s not the point really.

Believe it or not, I cared only for the happiness and enjoyment of my brave friends taking part. I didn’t stare or drool. I didn’t sneakily steal some fuzzy snapshots for later. No, I asked those fine ladies to pose nicely and took some hi-res photos – which I sent them as well. Truth be told, this whole event has an odd effect on the average male mind…

You know, it’s not what you think. 

There are certain glossy rags out there that have had a very negative effect on the female psyche. This is not about them, nor a rant about the effects these publications have on how women feel about themselves. But this is at least part of the reason why these women take part.

All women deserve to feel comfortable in their own skin.

They are all beautiful in their own right. They are all different; with different shapes and sizes. Big nipples, small nipples. Some need bigger tassels then others. Some need stronger glue. Some expose just their boobs while others wear dental floss and massive feathered headgear.

For crying out loud – one girl rode on the hood of bakkie wearing a pair of giant golden dragon wings, and yes, with her tits out.

 

 

And this is what this event does; it allows the women who take part to celebrate who they are. To celebrate the beauty of their gender, in a safe and festive setting. Women go before the parade to the Critical Tits Pasties workshop, to make their own tassels, a bonding “girls only” experience. They have bouncers, just so you know. They go with friends that have done it before, pulled by the arm nervous and hesitant, but they emerge uncovered yet unabashed*.

*I hear though, on good authority, that the odd bottle of tequila helps.

These women strut out into the sun, heads held high. They weave through the tents around The Playa to join other groups, and these in turn join the main group until at a seemingly random moment the parade begins. Women by the hundreds march on, cheering and shouting. Walking with pride.

A steady stream of half nude women parade past…

Now these girls are sexy, but it’s not how it sounds, this is no Brazilian Carnivale. I’ve been to a few Carnivales in my travels and there it’s all professional dancers strutting their stuff. Women (and men) being sexy, being provocative, being there to be looked at. It’s exciting, exuberant and effervescent. At Carnivale it’s about the expression of lust. It’s about getting that lust out of your system before the far more chaste period (Lent) that follows.

At Critical Tits it’s about the freedom everyday women can feel. 

The confidence they can experience at baring themselves with the security of having men defend them as they walk around with their tits out. Because that’s what happens, the men in the group fan out like a Delta Force Unit and defend our ladies. We beat our chests, cajole guys ogling instead of cheering and fire water pistols at creepy dudes with cameras snapping without permission.

But at the Burn those types are few and far between.

 

 

The thing is, when its one pair of naked breasts out of place and convention, its something that captures your mind, reducing the average man to a babbling idiot. But when its hundreds, you stop seeing them, you see the smiles and the grins of the ladies. You see their confidence, their defiance and their joy. And most of the time you are not looking at their chests.

Most of the time – I am a guy after all. 

But (ab)normal perspectives, restrictive, and damaging outlooks on the female form can be shattered. Girls can have a great time exposing what might cause them massive insecurity, their difference, their size, their shape, their uniqueness to the world.

It was a beautiful day, a maturing experience even for a guy, and one that I am very happy to have shared in. I think every woman that took part walked away with a cheeky grin, some great memories and the supreme confidence that can only come from walking around… with your tits out.