The Volunteer

by D. H Jonathan

  We stood at the doorway of the green room looking out at the stage. We couldn’t see the audience from our view, but I could hear them. It was the well-dressed woman from the make-up station next to me who was alone on the stage. I couldn’t see John Stossel anywhere. The comedian, dressed in a white tuxedo and standing on the floor just in front of the audience, read from a card in his hand.

  “And here is the star guest of tonight’s show, CVU’s own Danielle Keaton!”

  Sylvia practically pushed me out into the studio, and I stepped forward toward the comedian. Everyone was already clapping, and I saw them all rise when I walked in. With a flourish, the comedian gestured me toward the stage. I stepped up onto the four inch high platform in front of the middle chair, and a voice in the speaker in my ear told me to face the crowd. Turning, I was almost blinded by one of the lights. I heard a couple of catcall whistles in the middle of the applause. Not knowing what else to do, I smiled and waved.

  “And the star of our show!” the comedian yelled over the applause, “JOHN STOSSEL!”

  The audience kept applauding as Stossel jogged out into the studio and jumped up on the stage next to me. He waited for the noise to die down before speaking.

  “Thank you. I want to thank Coachella Valley University for hosting us, and all of you for coming and being part of our studio audience. We should have a great show today. Given the content, it may be, will be, a landmark episode. Thank you all for being a part of it. There are several challenges to doing a live TV show, so if you will just bear with us while we get everything set before that 6:00 PM start time.”

  He turned to one of the producers who stepped up to us.

  “Good,” the producer said and turned to me. “Normally, we wire people for sound under their clothes, but since you’re not wearing any, we are trying something new. So far, everything is working, but be ready if I have to hand you a microphone to speak into.”

  “OK,” I said, nodding.

  He turned to the well-dressed lady and talked to both of us. “We’ll start with the two of you backstage. John will be out here and will give an opening monologue, introducing the show. Dani, you will be introduced after a few minutes, and you will walk out, come straight to this middle chair, shake hands with John, and sit down. He’ll ask you to give your story, and when you’re done, he’ll have some follow up questions. John doesn’t ad lib too much, so it will mostly be what we discussed over the phone.”

  I noticed that one of my black towels was already positioned in the seat of the chair. The producer addressed the well-dressed woman as Rhonda and gave her similar instructions about coming out when called and shaking hands with John and me.

  “Two minutes!” a guy next to one of the big cameras called.

  The producer had someone usher us back to the green room, showing Rhonda to the office chair at the desk but holding me ready at the door. John Stossel sat down in his chair as someone applied some last second touches to his make-up. A monitor at the edge of the stage switched from a color bar to a frozen still of the Stossel show logo. The guy next to the camera, the director I assume, started counting down the seconds out loud from ten down to five and then silently using his fingers. The audience settled into a nervous silence as the “Applause” light was off. When the director’s one finger turned down and made a fist, the image on the monitor sprang to life. Stossel himself sat silently as his recorded voice played over the images of the screen, rednecks wearing Confederate flags, gang bangers with the waistbands of their pants around their hips revealing their plaid boxer shorts, Miley Cyrus naked on a wrecking ball.

  “These days, people are offended by everything,” Stossel’s recorded voice proclaimed as the images played. “Some groups of people seem to go out of their way to find something to be offended about. But aren’t we supposed to be the ‘Land of the Free’ as the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ proclaims. The Bill of Rights declares that we have the freedom of speech, that we should be able to freely express ourselves. Nowhere does it say that we have the right to not be offended by something. And yet, students are being suspended from school for wearing clothes with Confederate battle flags or religious messages perceived to be anti-gay hate propaganda. A city in Tennessee recently passed a law making it illegal to wear one’s pants more than three inches below the tops of the hips. Where does it all end? If we don’t have the freedom to offend someone, are we really free? That’s our show tonight.”

  The studio erupted in light and sound as the Applause light came on. The animated Stossel show opening played on the screen before the picture switched to Stossel, sitting in his chair.

  “Good evening,” he said. “We are broadcasting live from the campus of Coachella Valley University just outside of Palm Desert, California. The question tonight is, are we really free to express ourselves if society and even our legal system keep prohibiting certain messages because someone somewhere finds our message offensive? The wearing of Confederate flags has recently come under fire by some, with lawmakers in cities all over the country trying to ban them. And sometimes it’s not what you wear but how you wear it the some people find offensive. In Pikeville, Tennessee, for example, one can be cited for public indecency for wearing pants below the hips, even though all that’s being revealed is a pair of boxer shorts. Now, the ordinance claims to be in the interest of public safety as, and I quote--” he paused while picking up a card from the table, “’there is evidence that indicates the wearing of sagging pants is injurious to the health of the wearer as it causes improper gait.’”

  In spite of my nervousness, I laughed at John Stossel’s facial expression as he read that part of the ordinance.

  “I don’t know what’s worse,” Stossel continued, “prohibiting sagging pants because city leaders find them offensive or because they claim to be interested in the health of the wearer? In a free society, we would all have the right to freely express ourselves, both through our speech and our appearance, how we present ourselves to others. In the midst of all these incidents, with people being offended by everything, comes a student here at Coachella Valley University named Danielle Keaton who wanted to make a statement about who we are as human beings, how we accept ourselves and our bodies. To make that statement, she did not wear anything with flags or slogans that anyone could find offensive. She, in fact, didn’t wear anything. After spring break, she stopped wearing clothes and started going about her daily activities in her body’s natural state. Naked. She goes to class, to meals, and to campus functions all wearing nothing but a smile. Of course, some people, quite a lot actually, find that offensive, and in most locales, what she’s doing would be illegal, punishable by jail time. But so far, here at Coachella, she is still at it after two and a half weeks. We are going to bring her out now, and since this is a live show, some of you may be offended at the sight of her. If you are, then you certainly have the freedom to turn the channel. But I think her message needs to be seen and heard by those who would listen even if some do find it offensive. Those who would stop her from expressing herself in this manner would be doing the rest of the world a huge disservice. But here she is, Danielle Keaton.”

  The director motioned me out of the green room, but he didn’t have to; I was already stepping out when I heard John Stossel call me by name. The audience applauded more loudly than ever as I stepped up onto the set, shook Stossel’s hand, turned to face both them and the cameras, and sat down. As they quieted down, I wondered if the seven second delay had yet passed. As I sat waiting for Stossel to ask me to tell my story, people all over the country, hundreds of thousands of them, maybe millions of them, were right then watching me walk onto the platform. Why did I have to stand and acknowledge the audience, giving the cameras a full frontal shot of me, my breasts and shaved pubic mound visible in high definition on televisions all over the country, the world? The little flutter that the make-up girl had given me was like a raging torrent now. I should be ashamed, embarrassed, covering myself as the camera operators jo
ckeyed for position. Instead, I felt excited, confident, and aroused. I took a quick glance down at my breasts when Stossel started talking, hoping that the cameras would be on him. My nipples were as hard as concrete.

  Stossel asked me how I came up with the idea to go nude on campus, and I told him the same story I had told to Clarissa from the school newspaper and to the reporters from the local TV stations. We went into body image and body acceptance, and I told him how I thought my thighs were too thick, although they were mostly muscle, and how my butt was too big and round. I mentioned the fabricated story of seeing the Walk of Shame scene from Game of Thrones, how perfect Lena Headey’s body double had seemed. We talked about other nudity in media, especially Lena Dunham who was both a producer and a lead actress on an HBO show I had never watched. Stossel put a photo of her, clothed, on the screen, and I thought she looked great without having that Hollywood body and that I would have applauded her nude scenes if I had seen them, especially knowing that she was also a writer and producer on the show. We talked about Miley Cyrus and how she had at one time suggested doing a nude concert, with both herself and the audience all nude. That suggestion had never gotten off the ground, and I tried to act sad that it hadn’t (I honestly didn’t care one way or the other, although it might have been fun to go naked in a place where I wasn’t the only naked person around).

  “How have the rest of the students, faculty, and staff here at Coachella Valley University responded to you since you started this?” John Stossel finally asked me after the second commercial break, and I knew that this question was supposed to lead into the introduction of the other guest.

  “I got a few rude looks and some rather risqué remarks from a few guys when I started, but things have settled down now. I feel a lot of acceptance from most of the people I interact with.”

  “But you have to know that not everyone agrees with allowing you to do this?”

  “I would be surprised if no one had a problem with it.”

  “And that brings us to our next guest. Rhonda Zurich is an assistant professor of theology here at Coachella Valley University and has been the most outspoken critic of Dani’s public nudity on campus. Please welcome Dr. Zurich.”

  John Stossel and I both stood and the audience applauded as Dr. Zurich walked onto the set. If she had been such an outspoken critic, I wondered why I had never heard of her before now. She shook Stossel’s hand and merely nodded at me before taking the third seat.

  “So tell me Dr. Zurich,” Stossel said, “why do you object to Dani’s freedom to go around campus in the nude?”

  “Please, call me Rhonda. I think the thing we need to ask ourselves is how much freedom does an individual have before that freedom infringes on that of everyone else. A person has a reasonable expectation of carrying on with his or her day without being confronted by something provocative.”

  “Provocative, how?”

  “This is a college campus filled with 18 to 22 year old men. Seeing an attractive nude girl such as Danielle here might provoke them into actions that they might not otherwise take. Perhaps they may be more aggressive toward their own girlfriends, or perhaps they might engage in unhealthy fantasies. For the good of society as a whole, the freedom to expose oneself has to be curtailed. That’s why we have community standards.”

  I started to say something, but Stossel had already resumed talking. “But in a free society, each person has to be responsible for his or her own actions. You can’t blame any misdeeds on something the perpetrator saw someone else do. He has to be held accountable himself.”

  “That’s why we have to protect these young people from seeing things like Danielle strutting around naked in public. They are already vulnerable enough without someone like her putting thoughts into their heads.”

  “What do you mean, someone like me?” I said in a loud voice, trying to get a word in this time before Stossel did. “There is nothing about my actions, the things that I do, that is designed to provoke anyone. So what if I’m not wearing clothes. Let me tell you something, dressing in skimpy outfits, showing just a little bit, is far sexier than going nude.”

  “Going nude in public is, in itself, an action. You could make a strong statement about body acceptance without showing everything you’ve got to every young man at this university. I frankly think that what you are doing is crazy, a sign of extreme exhibitionism or nymphomania, and that makes me concerned for you and for everyone you’ve been with.”

  “For one thing,” I said as I felt the blood vessel in my temple pound against my skull, “you don’t know anything about me. Everyone I’ve been with? Let me tell you something, if you are referring to sexual partners, that number is zero. I’m a Christian; I grew up in the church; and I am still a virgin, by choice. Being naked doesn’t have anything to do with sex. Is it sensual? Yes. Is it comfortable, especially in this desert heat? You bet. Am I trying to seduce anyone by being naked? Absolutely not. The thought never even entered my mind. In fact, I would have a better chance of finding a guy, the right guy, with my clothes on. But that’s not my focus in life right now. So quit making assumptions about me. And by the way, if you’re such an outspoken critic of me, why haven’t I ever heard of you before today?”

  “You must not read the right publications,” Rhonda said as Stossel talked over her.

  “Why don’t we take a break and come back to this topic right after a word from our sponsors.”

  The Stossel theme music played as the logo filled up every monitor visible in the studio.

  “And we’re out,” the director said.

  “Really, who are you?” I said, turning to Rhonda.

  “Relax,” she said. “I’m a friend of Lorraine’s. She just wanted to make this interesting.”

  The show producer rushed up to us and said, “Are you two going to be able to continue together?”

  I must have been staring at Rhonda with an open-mouthed dumbfounded look on my face. I caught myself, shook my head a quick time or two, and said, “Yes. Sure.”

  Two of the crew members had brought us glasses of water, and Rhonda and I both took long drinks.

  “That was good stuff, you two,” Stossel said. “But let’s try to keep it civil. We do only have one more segment left.”

  I glanced out into the audience and saw Dr. Slater sitting on the second row. Greg sat next to her, without the green backpack I was so used to seeing on him. Dr. Slater wore a smile so big she was beaming. Greg smiled and winked at me when I caught his attention. I smiled back and probably blushed.

  I was much calmer when the show resumed. Rhonda took my earlier statement about being a Christian and asked how I could reconcile that with my constant nudity. In answer, I was able to articulate everything I felt in and after that Sunday night church service I had attended. I also brought up God telling Isaiah in Isaiah chapter 20 to spend three years naked in public to spread a warning against Egypt and Cush as proof that public nudity wasn’t either sinful or anti-Christian.

  “We’re all curious,” I said at one point, “all of us. If one guy out there satisfies his curiosity about the female anatomy by looking at me instead of turning to pornography with its lies about how people normally look and behave, isn’t that a good thing?”

  “It would be, if something like that happened,” Rhonda conceded. By the end of the show, she was much less argumentative, making me feel like I had won some kind of small victory.

  As John Stossel wrapped up the show, I was anxious to get up out of my chair. I wanted to stand up, let the viewing public get another full frontal look at me. Part of it was vanity: sitting like this made my belly compress and look bigger than it was. But the thought of those multitude of people looking at my naked body in a standing position, seeing my bare pubic area, the soft flesh of my vulva visible to all, was such a turn on. What was this thing turning me into? I was the first and only person in television history to be shown completely naked on a regular news channel, and all I wanted was to keep exposing m
yself.

  “I’d like to thank our guests Rhonda Zurich and the beautiful Danielle Keaton for sharing so much of herself with us. It was certainly a first for Fox Business Network and this show. Good night.”

  The closing credits rolled on the monitors, and I jumped out of my seat. Stossel quickly got up and leaned toward me. “Hold up right here,” he said in my ear as the audience applauded.

  “OK, we’re out,” the director called after a few seconds.

  “Thank you so much for appearing on the show,” Stossel said. “That was certainly something.” He turned to the producer and said, “Teddy, what’s the word from New York?”

  “Switchboards have been flooded with calls. Sixty percent positive so far.”

  “What about ratings?” I asked, wondering just how many people had seen me naked.

  “We’ll get preliminary numbers in the morning,” Teddy said. “But the response is, for a Fox Business Network show, massive.”

  My knees felt weak. Now that the show was over and the moment passed, remorse and regret flooded into my psyche. I had to ask myself, what have I done? I stepped off the stage and almost fell down. Greg caught me and held me up, his hands cool and soft against the bare skin of my waist.

  “Dani, you were awesome!” he said. “Beautiful, brilliant, and just amazing. You totally owned Dr. Zurich.”

  “I don’t think she was trying that hard,” I said.

  “Still, you came across as very smart and articulate. I just couldn’t believe how good you were.”

  Sylvia had me by the elbow and was guiding me toward the green room. “Let’s get that makeup off of you,” she said. “And I agree, you were brilliant.”

  I turned back to Greg as Sylvia tugged on my arm. “Are you going to be around for a while?” I asked.

  “Sure. You want to get a bite to eat?”

  “Yes. I’m starving.”

  “Cool. Oh, there’s a movie playing in the Student Union. A classic. Part of that Oscar Mistakes series, films that didn’t win the Best Picture award but should have. Or at least, Dr. Barker thinks they should have.”