I’ve discovered an important facet to the panopticon you’re describing: clothing.

In today’s climate-controlled environment, you wear clothing not so much to protect you from the elements but to meet the standards you were given as a child about what a “respectable” person looks like. The person you saw when you took a bath was “naughty”, and you didn’t let others see it because they would see how “naughty” you really were. You would feel shame if they saw your “naughty parts”. That’s why, as soon as you got out of the tub, Mama made you put on clothes. And she always wore clothes too, as did everyone else. You didn’t even need to be old enough to understand language to get that message, and, odd as the proposition seems on logical examination, it’s so deeply buried that most people don’t even know it’s there, let alone examine it.

From the perspective of having lived many decades, it appears to me that this condition, which is clinically known as gymnophobia, has grown noticeably over the years and has reached what I regard as pandemic proportions. For example, where public showers once typically consisted of a single room with many shower heads, now this is extremely rare; these days, almost all are equipped with individual stalls and curtains or doors that can be shut to prevent anyone from ever seeing you as you really are. And, not only that, if you fail to use these devices to secrete yourself, you may (as I have several times) become the recipient of remonstrations from those who have internalized this phobia to the point of believing it to be normal.

In order to discover the real you, you must get comfortable with seeing the real you, and you can’t do that wearing a costume. You aren’t a neat, clean shirt and blue jeans or gabardine pants. You aren’t a gaily-decorated skirt with a flowered blouse. You aren’t even a bra and underpants. You are skin and nipples and genitals. You didn’t sign up to be who you are, you just appeared to yourself as your consciousness grew, so why are you ashamed of what you see? Why is it hard for you to stand in front of a mirror and accept who you are?

I have had the fortunate opportunity to visit “clothing-optional” places and discover the insidious nature of the perpetual pretense our culture calls “normal”. When you experience real normality, the perverse nature of the fake world emerges.

Clothing is universally used as a signal. Sometimes it means “Obey me!” as with military or police uniforms, sometimes it means “Respect me!” as with religious vestments, sometimes it means “Envy me!” as with obviously expensive attire, sometimes it means “Pity me!” as with the tattered rags worn by street bums. And sometimes (often) it means “Desire me!” as with the tight-fitting, partially-revealing clothing often worn by young women to tempt and induce hormonal arousal.

But when there is no clothing, there is no signal: you are a human, no more, no less. Can you offer yourself to your fellow humans on that basis? Can you accept yourself on that basis? If you can, you have escaped society’s panopticon of shame and have laid the foundation for living on your own terms.