Skin Hunger

First published on 21st June 2021 for Artychoke Zine

How many times have you wanted to envelope yourself in someone’s arms over the past year? To carve a nook for yourself in the spaces of another? To fold, and nestle and burrow your way in so far that the boundary between the two of you becomes blurred?

Or to feel the brush of someone’s fingers on your shoulder? The clasp and cradle of a firm handshake? Or maybe the wisp of someone’s hair brushing your face as you lean close to watch a video on a phone together?

I crave the warmth, texture and sensory information from others.

I have touch deprivation and hunger for skin.

It sounds almost Hannibal-esque to crave skin, but it’s an innate human need that starts from our birth and stays with us throughout our lifetime. Our skin, is the largest sensory organ in our bodies, and as social beings receiving safe, friendly “touch activates a big bundle of nerves in your body that improves your immune system, regulates digestion and helps you sleep well. It also activates parts of your brain that help you empathize.”[i] No brainer, huh?

As a dance artist, physicality is part and parcel of my job. Being in contact with another – practising, receiving and inviting touch is a given. In a personal tract, tactility also forms the backbone of my relationships – whether that’s cuddling my mum, stroking the dog or even Indian leg wrestling with my friends. Touch is a fundamental of human connection and over time, I’ve absolutely taken this consent for granted. In the light of the pandemic – amongst the social distancing, masks, and general fear mongering – I’ve found the space between myself and others growing exponentially. Even now, with the lifting of restrictions, I feel myself struggling with the liminality of being allowed safe touch whilst also being cowed by over a year of anti -touch conditioning by our governments.

Be it platonic or emotional touch, staying true to our mammalian instincts is something we shouldn’t fight moving forwards. Not just for the multiple health benefits, or power to bring people together, but as it’s a part of life we’ve all fasted from to our own deficiency. Hunger for skin, connection and socialising, I want to bathe myself in contact with others. Of course, there are those within our population who are touch aversive, but as we straddle the line between limiting transmission and forging forwards into this omnipresent covid world, I question whether the return of touch can truly be socially conscious, healthy and crucially, guilt free, and whether we’ll all want to see its return.

[i] Keltner, D quoted in. (2020). The Coronavirus Outbreak Keeps Humans from Touching. Here’s Why That’s So Stressful. Available: https://time.com/5817453/coronavirus-human-touch/. Last accessed 17th June 2021.