PN Interview #001: A Conversation with Lucinda Yang – Embracing the Permanent Nude Lifestyle, Challenging Perceptions, and Redefining Freedom

By Addie Fry

Before I begin, let me introduce myself. I’m Addie Fry, and this is the first installment of Voices Unbound, a website dedicated to exploring the lives and stories of individuals who are living outside societal norms. In this interview series, we will dive into the lives of fascinating people who have chosen or found themselves in the unique world of permanent nudity. Whether by personal choice, the circumstances they’ve faced, or a combination of many other factors, this series aims to spark conversation about body autonomy, societal norms, and the diverse reasons why people choose to live without clothing.

Over the past several years, there has been a slow but noticeable shift in both federal and local attitudes toward those living this lifestyle, commonly referred to as Permanently Nude (PN). The acceptance of PNs, while still not universally widespread, has gradually expanded, and the people I’ll be interviewing throughout this series are on the frontlines of this shift.

To kick off this conversation, I had the privilege of sitting down with Lucinda Yang, a woman whose journey into permanent nudity challenges societal taboos and opens up new discussions about vulnerability, identity, and freedom. Lucinda’s story is one of strength and transformation, and I am excited to share it with you.

The Café Encounter

On a sunlit afternoon, I met Lucinda at a vibrant café, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries filling the air. As she entered, it was immediately clear that she carried herself with a quiet but undeniable confidence. Her presence was magnetic, not in the traditional sense of seeking attention, but in the sense of someone comfortable in their skin, embodying a powerful self-assuredness that seemed to radiate from within.

After we exchanged pleasantries and settled in, I asked her what surprised her most about living in a permanent state of nudity. She paused, her almond-shaped eyes reflecting both amusement and a trace of contemplation before answering.

“It’s not just the attention I get from others,” she began, taking a deliberate sip of her coffee. “It’s the assumptions people project onto me. From unsolicited sexual propositions to random comments about my body, and even judgments about my sexuality, people often feel entitled to weigh in on my life without knowing anything about me. I expected the stares, but what caught me off guard was just how much others feel they can insert themselves into my reality.”

Her words hung in the air, and I was curious to know more. “What kind of assumptions are you referring to specifically?” I asked.

Lucinda sighed, swirling her coffee slowly as she spoke. “For one, there’s the immediate hypersexualization. Some men approach me, assuming that by being naked, I must be trying to seduce or attract attention. At the same time, others criticize me for being ‘too visible,’ for ‘flaunting’ my body. You’d think that in a society so obsessed with body image, being naked would be a natural expression of freedom. But it isn’t. There’s this idea that my body has to be either perfectly toned or hidden away, and since I don’t fit into that narrow definition of beauty—because I have curves, stretch marks, cellulite—people see me as either ‘brave’ or ‘inappropriate.’”