In San Francisco, there is a practice that isn't exactly new, but which gained attention after an article published by Katie Canales for Business Insiderlast week. In Portuguese, "cuddle party" could be translated as "festa do abraço" (hug party), but it has much more to do with affection and physical contact based on consent than necessarily the act of hugging. It is curious that this type of practice has taken hold in a city with a long history of breaking social norms and innovative practices, whether in the technological or sexual spheres, for example.
But in the case of cuddle parties, this is not a sexually oriented event. Canales begins her report by describing a scene where different people lie together, bodies overlapping, cuddling despite being strangers. However, no physical contact is made without first asking the other person. You must ask for permission to, for example, play with someone's hair, scratch their back, or touch their face. Now, why are these people going to cuddle parties? Well, the reason is a search for more physical and human contact; in other words, therapy for loneliness.
As Canales describes, the first modern cuddle party emerged in 2004 as a small event organized in a New York apartment. Sixteen years later, we see that there is even a company called Cuddle Party that employs facilitators like sex educator, consultant, and professional cuddler Dr. Yoni Alkan. But this type of gathering is not unique to the United States: there are also cuddle parties in Ireland and Sweden, for example.
This type of search for more intimate, yet non-sexual, contact with a stranger seems symptomatic of our current moment, in which we isolate ourselves in large cities and work rhythms that are, in themselves, alienating. But it is this same industry and this same capitalist logic that also fosters the emergence of professional cuddlers certified by programs like Cuddlist, through which they gain the backing to charge between $60 and $80 for sessions of affection and cuddling. In Portland, Oregon, and Los Angeles, there are even shops that offer this type of service, which, in the end, acts as a stimulant for the production of oxytocin, a hormone that partly acts as a bonding agent for humans and also functions as an "antidote to depressive feelings."
When this "happiness chemistry" is triggered in the human body through physical contact or other types of activities, we combat the action of cortisol, which, among other things, has become known as the "stress hormone." And it is because of this that people decide to gather with 30 other strangers to hug and cuddle in search of a cure for the stress, anxiety, and madness of modern routine.
"We are living at an increasingly accelerated pace with little work-life balance—especially within the extreme logic of the Silicon Valley tech industry. We are married to our electronic devices, and according to a 2017 study by the Pew Research Center, we are waiting longer to find partners or start a family, should we choose to do so—a valid decision, but one that comes at the cost of a lack of physical intimacy with a significant other. A 2019 study by US News and World Report ranked San Francisco as one of the best places in the country for singles to live, noting that 52% of the population does not have a partner."
"We live in these little boxes and we are disconnected; our groceries can be delivered—and everything can be delivered—when we press a button," says Dr. O. Christina Nelsen, a sexologist and psychologist, CEO and founder of the San Francisco Intimacy and Sex Therapy Centers. "So there are many people who don't have that daily connection through touch or even through eye contact."
While it is known that isolation can be harmful not only to an individual's mental health but also their physical health, San Francisco has simultaneously become a hub for what Andrew Chamings of Vice calls "organized intimacy," as not only cuddle parties become popular, but also eye-gazing parties, speed-dating sessions for singles costing between 35 and 60 dollars, as well as parties actually focused on sex.
Curiously, however, Canales points out that in the 60s, cuddle parties were seen more as a near-biohacking experiment in which hippies sought to overcome sexual or even relationship norms between people. However, this current resurgence of cuddle parties has a different goal or even meaning for participants and organizers. For psychologists and sexologists like Nelsen, for example, this can actually be quite beneficial, since we biologically have this need for physical contact and intimacy, but there is something strange about having to pay 35 dollars for it—especially for us Latinos, who have a different logic regarding physical contact and intimacy, which can, in fact, be a problem for expats.
This, however, does not make cuddle parties unviable. In reality, Canales says that tickets sell out even a month before the day of the session. In the journalist's view, however, although cuddle parties provide a certain type of comfort and affection, intimacy is not achieved this way; it requires other layers, such as having genuine feelings and connections with the person with whom you are exchanging caresses. "It was a hard pill to swallow that we would all be magically cured of our loneliness there. It felt more like putting a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound," she describes.
However, according to the experts interviewed by Canales, it is a matter of practice: the more you go to these cuddle parties, the more common it becomes and the more you enjoy their benefits. In other words, if you have 40 dollars to spend on several sessions until you can get high on oxytocin without actually or necessarily connecting with someone and thus creating a true, lasting bond, then go ahead.