I set an intention for a simple summer. More specifically, I set an intention to get a good suntan. Something so simple, and seemingly free, seems like it would be easy to accomplish. And yet, the past several summers, I have lamented the lack of contrast between my tanned and swimsuit-covered skin… the kind of contrast my friends and I would joyfully compare as girls during our long summer days at the pool.

All of a sudden, it seems, the sun became “bad for our skin”. Around the same time I started thinking about wrinkle prevention, a friend my age (exactly my age – we were born the same day) died of skin cancer. 

Since then, I’ve been wearing hats in full sun, making sure my beauty routine included SPF, and the SPF 4 bottles of Australian Gold were replaced with SPF 50+ Sport.

The only time I really wore the SPF 50 on my body, however, was for a day by the ocean, lake or pool. And considering I don’t have regular access to any of those things, those days were few and far between.

I’d exercise outdoors early in the morning, and limit the amount of time spent in the sun during peak hours. I’d spend time outside in the shade with friends and boyfriends, but I daydreamed of opportunities to lay in the sun, somehow thinking I needed to go somewhere to do that. As if the sun in which I now soak lazily in my backyard is bad, but the sun by a pool is good.

Before accompanying my Mom on a 7 night trip to Florida, just before turning 40, I made my first appointment with a dermatologist. I felt guilty for waiting too long to see one. But she looked over my entire body, kindly called the sun spots all over my arms “wisdom spots”, and didn’t see anything cancerous or precancerous. The part of me that had always feared the sun shining on my face through the car window felt considerable relief.

The trip to Florida with my Mom was the longest vacation I’d taken in… ever? Slowing down was hard. But there were a few hours a day, from about 10:00 am to 1:00 pm, where I would lay out by the pool, and that time would fly. Sometimes I would contemplate the busy season of life in front of me, but the rest of the time, I’d listen to podcasts and read. With the confidence of my dermatologist’s report, regularly applying SPF 50+ and wearing a hat, I’d let myself bask in the warmth of the sun and glow in the shine of sunscreen. I’d take “thirst trap” photographs (and post them!) and I felt happy. By intentionally lying there in the sun, doing seemingly nothing, I was doing something… for myself. In addition to resting, I was rebuilding my connection with the sun, the giver of life on this little planet of ours, shifting our relationship from one of fear to one of nourishment.

Shortly upon my return from Florida, that busy season of life I’d been contemplating came and went. And at the end of it, feeling like I’d been slowly and painfully dragged into June, I pulled my outdoor lounge chair from the deck to the sunniest part of my backyard, and promised myself that this summer, I was going to get a suntan. 

It’s funny to me that historically nobility would pride themselves on their pale skin, a sign that they did not have to work out in the fields. As I lay out in my backyard, watching the same breeze that’s brushing past my skin flow through the peace flags adorning my fence, I daydream that if I were nobility, I’d do this very thing, but perhaps next to a pool, completely surrounded with tall pines for enough privacy to avoid having any tan lines at all.

That’s how I feel when I lay out in the sun, though, as if I’m nurturing my own inner nobility. A nobility that reminds me that I don’t have to be busy all the time, and I don’t always have to be doing something. Basking in the connection I feel to the sun, to the Earth, to the weather, to my home, and to myself… It feels luxurious. And while it is reasonably accessible, it’s still not a luxury afforded to all.

The activist Audre Lorde said: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”

And in her book “Real Self Care”, Dr. Pooja Lakshmin argues the differences between faux self-care and real self-care. Faux self-care includes retreats and cleanses that are out of reach for all but a few. Faux self-care is a narrative that is dominated by a capitalist society constantly reminding us how flawed we are, and that by buying this or that, we can come a little bit closer to being perfect.

Real self-care, on the other hand, is something that no one can give you but yourself, like time to yourself, and setting boundaries. And still, sadly, time to lounge, even at zero cost, remains inaccessible to people like sole caregivers and those struggling to resource themselves and their families with basic needs.

So while my goal of getting a nice suntan this summer may sound flippant, it is not. While women are losing bodily autonomy regarding choices for their own health care, safety, and economic circumstance, as dictated by the highest Courts, doing what I want with my body, even if it’s sprawling out on a lawn chair, is an act of political warfare. 

As I lay out under the warm blanket of the sun, I look at those “wisdom spots” on my arms and notice new patches of stretch marks on my thighs. I know that somewhere a group of people is inventing a new, shiny solution to this non-problem. And another group of people are preparing the marketing for this shiny solution. And the minute I pull the trigger on trying to fix this problem, another will pop up. And hard as they try, the people in these rooms will never get to the root cause of their problems with my body… that it is just getting older! Laying out in the sun, carefully enough to be cautious of skin cancer, but without any shits to give about my non-cancerous sunspots or the weird, pale line on my belly from where my skin folds together to form a miniature ravine of SPF 50+ Sport… is an act of political warfare.

And that tricky fawn response to trauma, to people pleasing, over-achieving, and social media inundation reminding us that even if we try to do everything, we will never be good enough… Though my sights are aimed high in a career I love, choosing to spend as much time as possible in the sun this summer, tapping myself out of a competition to produce and do as much as possible, listening to podcasts and music, and allowing my attention to rest on the activity of bees buzzing amongst my flowers, is an act of political warfare.

All that said,  if it’s a sunny afternoon this summer… you’ll know where to find me.