PN Interview #003: A Conversation with Rose Duple - Stripped to the Core and The Unyielding Spirit
By Addie Fry
In this explicit and unflinching interview, Addie Fry sits down with Rose Duple, a former top fashion icon who shares her harrowing story of being stripped of everything she thought she knew about herself. Once a celebrated figure in the fashion world, Rose's life took a devastating turn when she lost everything in a bitter divorce that left her bound by a prenuptial agreement. Forced into a life of perpetual nudity and homelessness, she endured over five years of relentless humiliation and survival against impossible odds.
Physically, Rose is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Her body is a patchwork of scars, sunburns, and calluses, with wild, brittle hair that reflects the harshness of her survival. Her skin is a deep, weathered brown, and her eyes are a piercing green, a constant reminder of the strength and determination that has carried her through the darkest of times. As covering her body even today has been stripped away, even the most delicate pieces of clothing are deemed too painful to wear.
Her once-perfect features are now etched with lines of hardship and a quiet strength. Her body, even after it was free to wear clothing again, is stuck in the state of unabashed nudity. She asked me to go into graphic details of her body to the listeners. Her nipples are no longer pert and perky, but rather sunken and weathered, a testament to the years of exposure she endured. Her inner labia lips, once plump and pink, are now dry and cracked, a painful reminder of the constant discomfort she faced in the harsh climate of the Midwest.
Despite the constant invasion of her privacy she now chooses to endure, Rose's eyes remain bright and full of fierce determination, a beacon of hope for those who have suffered similar injustices. Her nakedness is a constant reminder of the vulnerability and humiliation she has endured, but also a testament to her strength and resilience.
As we dive deeper into Rose's story, it becomes clear that her physical transformation is just one aspect of her journey. She speaks candidly about the emotional toll of her experiences, the constant shame and humiliation that accompanied her every waking moment. Her voice trembles as she recounts the first time she was forced to strip in front of a judge, the feeling of utter vulnerability and exposure that still haunts her to this day.
Despite the odds against her, Rose found a glimmer of hope when a passerby handed her a flyer for Justice Without Chains, a nonprofit specializing in extreme cases of exploitation. After a long legal battle, the court ruled in her favor, declaring the provisions that denied her basic human rights void and awarding her a modest settlement to help rebuild her life.
However, even after the settlement, Rose found that she could no longer bear the sensation of most fabrics against her skin. The discomfort and rejection of the fabric against her body were too much to bear. As a result, Rose now prefers to live completely naked all the time, finding solace in the freedom and autonomy that comes with it.
With her settlement and newfound freedom, Rose rented a modest apartment and continued her therapy to address the trauma she had endured. Professionally, she found a new calling as an advocate for women's rights and ethical legal practices. She partnered with Justice Without Chains to support those trapped in exploitative agreements or abusive relationships and launched campaigns to raise awareness.
Rose also returned to design, using her experiences to inspire a new line of clothing that celebrated resilience and the beauty of survival. However, she now finds herself drawn to designing clothing that is meant to be worn without the need for fabric, creating pieces that honor the human form and the freedom that comes with it. Her story has become a beacon of hope for others, and she continues to share her journey through her memoir, Stripped Bare, sparking conversations about human rights, societal judgment, and resilience.
In this Voices Unbound interview, Rose Duple shares her incredible journey of loss, resilience, and rediscovery, and offers a powerful reminder of the strength and determination that lies within us all. Her naked body, now a symbol of her journey, serves as a stark reminder of the injustices she has faced and the strength she has found in the face of adversity.
A Conversation with Rose Duple
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A Conversation with Rose Duple
Addie Fry: Welcome to Voices Unbound. I'm your host, Addie Fry, and today, we have a remarkable guest, Rose Duple—a former fashion icon who has endured a profound journey of loss, resilience, and self-discovery. Rose, welcome to the show.
Rose Duple: Thank you, Addie. It's truly an honor to be here.
Addie Fry: Before we dive into your story, let me ask—how are you feeling today?
Rose Duple: I'm feeling strong and determined. Sharing my journey has been deeply therapeutic, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to help others who might be facing similar challenges.
Addie Fry: Let's start at the beginning. You were once a celebrated figure in the fashion world, admired for your creativity and elegance to be forgotten. What inspired you to thrive in such a competitive industry?
Rose Duple: I've always been captivated by the power of self-expression through clothing. To me, it's more than fabric; it's identity, confidence, and a way to communicate without words. I loved designing pieces that made people feel visible and empowered. Looking back, I think I also used fashion as a shield to hide my vulnerabilities.
Addie Fry: Your life took a dramatic turn during your divorce. Can you share what that experience was like?
Rose Duple: Of course. My marriage to Marcus, a wealthy businessman, was anything but a partnership. From the start, he was controlling, using his immense wealth and influence to erode my sense of independence and self-worth. He dictated every aspect of my life, and I often felt more like his possession than his wife. When the marriage ended, the prenuptial agreement I had signed under immense pressure came back to haunt me. It left me with absolutely nothing—no financial support, no property, not even the basic legal right to own clothes. He manipulated the legal system to ensure I was completely stripped of my dignity, leaving me homeless and, quite literally, without a thread to call my own. For over five years, I lived in a state of relentless humiliation and constant struggle, navigating a world where even the barest form of protection or decency was out of reach.
Addie Fry: That’s unimaginable, Rose. To endure such a complete loss of autonomy and dignity is heartbreaking. How did you find hope and resilience in such a dark time?
Rose Duple: It wasn’t easy, Addie. At first, I was consumed by anger and despair. I felt invisible as if the world had turned its back on me. But slowly, I began to find strength in the smallest acts of kindness from strangers—a shared meal, a warm blanket offered in secret. These gestures reminded me of my humanity and gave me a reason to keep going. I also began to rediscover my voice, speaking out about my experiences whenever I could. I found solace in connecting with others who had been through similar hardships. Over time, I started to piece together a new life, one step at a time, fueled by a determination to reclaim my identity and my dignity while still penniless and homeless.
Rose Duple: It was incredibly hard. My turning point came when a stranger handed me a flyer for Justice Without Chains. I couldn't believe anyone would care about someone like me, but the organization fought relentlessly for my rights. That's when I realized there was hope, even when everything felt hopeless.
Addie Fry: The legal battle must have been grueling. What gave you the strength to keep going? Before learning about Justice Without Chains every attempt I made to regain my most basic right of covering my body resulted in me being forced to by the police and the humiliation of being forced to stand before various judges in my rawness in the years after the divorce until it deemed the legal system and my ex powerful lawyers had me under constant survivance to ensure that I remain in the constant state of nudity around the clock and that I shall not spend a moment away from the public eye on the streets for face being stripped of those clothes and arrested.
Addie Fry: That is horrible.
Rose Duple: The thought of reclaiming my dignity. Every time I faced my ex-husband's lawyers or testified, I reminded myself that I wasn't just fighting for me—I was fighting for anyone who had been exploited or stripped of their humanity. That purpose fueled me.
Addie Fry: You've spoken about the moment you wore clothing again after your case was resolved. What was that like?
Rose Duple: It was overwhelming. After so long, the fabric felt like fire against my skin—it was nearly unbearable. But I refused to take it off because it symbolized my humanity and a victory over what had been stolen from me during that first month of being bound by that iron-clad prenuptial that made the skin on my body remain his property of ownership.
Addie Fry: How did you begin rebuilding your life after that?
Rose Duple: Step by step. Therapy was crucial in helping me process the trauma. I found a modest apartment and began working with Justice Without Chains to support others in similar situations. I eventually returned to fashion, though I no longer wear clothing myself by choice. Instead, when I was forced to be unclothed 24/7, I didn’t have the luxury of worrying about protective barriers like towels. It didn’t matter where I sat—it could be on concrete, dirt, or a wooden bench. Often, these were the only surfaces available, and I couldn’t afford to be picky. My skin became rough and calloused in some areas simply from constant exposure, and I developed rashes and abrasions from prolonged contact with certain surfaces.
At the time, I didn’t think much about it. I was too focused on surviving. I couldn’t stand it all the time, and I had no real choices about where to rest. The lack of control was dehumanizing. Sitting down felt like another way I was stripped of dignity—literally and figuratively.
I now create designs that celebrate survival and resilience in body art accessories that showcase the individuals who choose this lifestyle.
Addie Fry: Now that you have more control over your environment, how do you approach those situations?
Rose Duple: These days, I’m very conscious about it. I always carry a small towel or a piece of soft fabric with me. It’s not just about comfort; it’s also about hygiene and feeling a sense of protection. Even if I choose not to wear clothing, I’ll still place something between myself and the surface before sitting. It’s a small act, but for me, it’s deeply symbolic. It’s about reclaiming the choice I didn’t have before.
Addie Fry: Do you find that this need for protective measures has an emotional significance for you?
Rose Duple: Definitely. Using a towel or fabric feels like an act of self-care—something I couldn’t prioritize during those years. It’s also a reminder of how far I’ve come. Sitting comfortably, with that small layer of separation, reinforces the fact that I’ve regained control over my life and my body.
Addie Fry: How do you think this perspective shapes your approach to your new work, especially in fashion and advocacy?
Rose Duple: It has influenced everything. In my fashion designs, I prioritize not only beauty but comfort and practicality. I’ve also incorporated foldable, lightweight protective fabrics into my designs, inspired by my need for portable solutions during my recovery. In my advocacy work, I talk a lot about bodily autonomy—whether that’s the right to wear what you want, to protect yourself as you see fit, or to exist comfortably in your skin.
Addie Fry: What message would you give to others who might feel ashamed or self-conscious about taking these kinds of precautions?
Rose Duple: There’s no shame in doing what you need to feel safe and comfortable. Whether that’s carrying a towel, wearing specialized clothing, or making choices others don’t fully understand, it’s about what works for you. Your dignity and humanity aren’t tied to how others perceive your actions—they’re rooted in how you honor yourself.
Addie Fry:: Let’s dive into some of the more personal aspects of your experience. Rose, you’ve lived through some extreme situations. What’s the most intense or unexpected reaction someone’s had to seeing you unclothed in public?
Rose Duple: Oh, there have been plenty of reactions, some extreme, some surprisingly kind. I remember once, during the time I was forced to be nude, an older woman approached me on the street. She didn’t say a word, just handed me a scarf and walked away. It was such a small gesture, but it made me break down in tears. On the other extreme, some people shouted insults or treated me like I was some sort of exhibitionist. One man even tried to spray me with a hose, yelling that I needed to "wash off my shame." It was humiliating, but it also taught me how varied people’s reactions to vulnerability can be.
Addie Fry:: That must have been difficult. What about misconceptions? What’s the most common one you encounter as someone who has had to live without clothing?
Rose Duple: The biggest misconception is that nudity equals promiscuity. People assume that just because you’re naked, you must be sexually available or seeking attention, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Nudity, for me, was never a choice at that time—it was a circumstance of survival. Even now, when I occasionally choose to wear clothes in certain settings, it’s about comfort, not some kind of statement about sexuality.
Addie Fry:: That ties into another question—have people ever made inappropriate assumptions or requests because of your nudity?
Rose Duple: Unfortunately, yes. There have been instances where people assumed I was open to performing sexual acts simply because I was naked. One man in particular approached me on a park bench and propositioned me in such a blatant way that I was stunned. I firmly told him no, but he continued to pester me until another passerby intervened. It’s infuriating and exhausting, but it also underscores how much work we need to do in separating nudity from consent.
Addie Fry:: That must be incredibly frustrating. Switching gears a bit, let’s talk about the practical side of things. How do you handle the cold, rain, or extreme weather? Do you ever wish for a raincoat or jacket?
Rose Duple: Cold and rain are tough, no doubt about it. During the years when I didn’t have clothing, I had to endure everything from freezing temperatures to heavy rainstorms. I would try to find shelter or wrap myself in anything I could scavenge, but often, I just had to endure. Now, I do wear jackets or protective gear when I need to. I’ve learned that it’s okay to prioritize my health and comfort over any ideals about staying unclothed.
Addie Fry:: And what about sitting down, especially in public places? How do you manage that?
Rose Duple: That’s something I’ve become very deliberate about. When I was forced to be unclothed, I didn’t have the option to be selective—it was whatever surface was available. But now, I always carry a towel or a piece of fabric to sit on, both for hygiene and comfort. In restaurants or public spaces, I make it a point to use my towel, and most people appreciate the courtesy. It’s a small thing, but it makes a big difference in how I feel and how others perceive me.
Addie Fry: Have you encountered judgment or awkwardness in those settings?
Rose Duple: Occasionally. Some people are curious or uncomfortable, but others are supportive or even admiring of my transparency and care for hygiene. I think most people respect thoughtfulness, regardless of the context.
Addie Fry:: One last practical question—what’s it like going without shoes? Have you ever regretted not having something to protect your feet?
Rose Duple: Oh. There were days when the sidewalk felt like it was on fire, or when stepping on sharp rocks left my feet bruised and cut. It’s not easy, and I do wear shoes now when the situation calls for it. That said, going barefoot for so long taught me to be more mindful of my surroundings, and I’ve developed a kind of resilience. Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes long for a sturdy pair of boots when hiking!
Addie Fry:: It’s clear you’ve faced every challenge with determination. Your perspective is eye-opening.
Rose Duple: Thank you. If my experiences can spark understanding or empathy, then sharing them is worth it.
Addie Fry: Your prenuptial agreement played a significant role in the challenges you faced. Can you tell us about how that came to be and how it impacted your life?
Rose Duple: The prenuptial agreement was something I signed under a lot of pressure, both from my ex-husband, Marcus, and even my family. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Marcus framed it as a standard formality, and I trusted him. He was charming, and persuasive, and made me feel like we were equals. Looking back, I realize how naïve I was.
The document had clauses that were not only punitive but also, in hindsight, deeply inhumane. It stipulated that in the event of a divorce, I would forfeit all rights to shared assets, personal property, and even the ability to work in my field. The most shocking clause was the one that barred me from wearing clothing. It was Marcus’s way of asserting control, ensuring I couldn’t simply rebuild my life after leaving him.
Addie Fry:: That’s astonishingly cruel. How did you feel when the terms of the agreement were enforced?
Rose Duple: Devastated. I felt like my entire identity had been erased. Losing my possessions and financial security was one thing, but the clothing clause stripped me of my dignity. It wasn’t just about being naked; it was about being exposed, vulnerable, and dehumanized. It made me question my worth because I had unknowingly agreed to something that reduced me to nothing.
Addie Fry:: Did you have any legal recourse at the time?
Rose Duple: Initially, no. The agreement was ironclad, and my legal options seemed limited. It wasn’t until I connected with Justice Without Chains that I began to see a path forward. They helped me challenge the prenuptial agreement on constitutional grounds, arguing that certain provisions violated my basic human rights.
Addie Fry:: That must have been a grueling process. What kept you going during the legal battle?
Rose Duple: Honestly, it was the hope that no one else would ever have to go through what I did. Every time I thought about giving up, I reminded myself that this fight wasn’t just for me—it was for anyone who had been exploited or trapped in an abusive situation.
Addie Fry:: When the court finally ruled in your favor, what did that moment mean to you?
Rose Duple: It was a mixture of relief and anger. I was relieved to have my freedom and some compensation to rebuild my life, but I was also furious that it had taken so much pain and effort to prove that those clauses were wrong. The ruling was a victory, but it was bittersweet because it couldn’t undo the years I had lost or the trauma I had endured.
Addie Fry: Has your experience with the prenuptial agreement influenced your advocacy work?
Rose Duple: Absolutely. One of my missions now is to educate people about the importance of understanding what they’re signing, especially in relationships. Prenuptial agreements can serve a purpose, but they should never be tools for exploitation or control. I also work to support reforms that ensure such extreme clauses are deemed unenforceable from the outset.
Addie Fry:: What advice would you give to someone considering a prenuptial agreement?
Rose Duple: Take your time, get independent legal counsel, and don’t let anyone pressure you. A healthy relationship is built on trust and mutual respect, and no agreement should strip you of your basic rights or autonomy. If something feels off, trust your instincts and seek advice. It’s better to ask tough questions upfront than to face devastating consequences later.
Addie Fry: The moment when you were told to surrender everything, including your clothing, must have been devastating. Can you walk us through what that was like and how it unfolded?
Rose Duple: That moment will stay with me forever. I had already lost so much—my home, my possessions, my finances. I felt like I was holding on by a thread, trying to stay strong, thinking things couldn’t possibly get worse. But then my lawyer informed me of the judge's decision to enforce the full terms of the prenuptial agreement, which included surrendering every last item I had—even the contents of my purse—and leaving me with nothing but the skin on my back.
I remember sitting in my lawyer's office when he broke the news. He handed me the document with the judge's ruling, and I could barely read past the first few lines before my vision blurred with tears. It felt like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t comprehend how this was legal, how anyone could decide that a human being should be stripped down to nothing—literally.
Addie Fry:: What were the immediate emotions running through your mind?
Rose Duple: At first, it was disbelief. I kept thinking, This can’t be real. They can’t ask me to do this. Then the reality set in, and I was overwhelmed by shame, anger, and fear. Shame, because I knew I’d be exposed in a way that felt deeply humiliating. Anger, because it was so cruel and unnecessary—this wasn’t just a legal punishment; it was dehumanization. And fear, because I had no idea how I was going to survive.
Addie Fry:: What happened next?
Rose Duple: My lawyer explained that I had 24 hours to comply. I had to surrender all my possessions, including my clothing, shoes, and even the small items in my purse—things like my wallet, keys, and phone. The thought of walking out into the world like that was unbearable. I couldn’t stop crying, and my lawyer tried to comfort me, but there was nothing he could say that would make it better.
When the deadline came, I was met by court officers at a designated location. I had to undress right there and hand over everything. The process was cold, clinical, and completely devoid of compassion. I felt like I wasn’t a person to them, just another case to process.
Addie Fry:: What did that moment feel like, having to surrender your clothes and stand there exposed?
Rose Duple: It felt like they were stripping away the last shred of my humanity. Clothing isn’t just fabric—it’s protection, identity, and dignity. Standing there, completely exposed, I felt naked in every sense of the word. Vulnerable, powerless, and raw. I tried to cover myself with my hands, but it was useless. My body wasn’t just mine anymore—it was something on display, something people could judge or ignore as they saw fit.
Addie Fry:: How did you handle stepping out into the world after that?
Rose Duple: It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I had to walk out of that building unclothed, feeling every pair of eyes on me, even if they weren’t looking. The air on my skin felt like a constant reminder of how exposed I was. People stared, whispered, laughed, or pretended not to see me, which somehow hurt just as much.
I had nowhere to go. I wandered, avoiding crowds and trying to find places to hide. The humiliation was constant—every glance, every comment was like a dagger. But what made it even worse was the silence. So many people looked right past me as if I didn’t exist.
Addie Fry: How did you cope in the days and weeks that followed?
Rose Duple: At first, I was in survival mode. I had to focus on basic needs—finding food, water, and some form of shelter. The nights were the worst. I’d curl up in hidden corners, trying to stay warm and out of sight. My body ached from sleeping on hard surfaces, and my skin was constantly sore from exposure.
Emotionally, I had to compartmentalize. I couldn’t let myself think too much about the life I had lost, or I’d break down completely. There were moments when I felt like giving up, but I told myself I couldn’t let them win. I couldn’t let this define me forever.
Addie Fry:: Looking back now, how do you view that moment and the journey that followed?
Rose Duple: It was the lowest point in my life, but it also marked the beginning of my transformation. That moment forced me to confront what truly mattered—my resilience, my strength, and my will to survive. It’s a scar I carry, but it’s also a reminder of what I’ve overcome.
More importantly, it’s made me passionate about fighting for others who are dehumanized or stripped of their rights. No one should ever have to endure what I went through. That experience, as painful as it was, shaped me into the person I am today. And for that, I’m strangely grateful.
Addie Fry: The title of your story, Stripped to the Core, feels deeply symbolic. What does it mean to you personally?
Rose Duple: To me, it reflects the rawness of my experience—being stripped of everything, not just physically but emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. It’s about hitting rock bottom, being reduced to what felt like nothing, and finding the strength to rise again. The “core” represents the part of me that couldn’t be taken away, no matter how much I lost.
Addie Fry:: You’ve mentioned that the experience forced you to confront who you were at your most vulnerable. How did that process change you?
Rose Duple: It made me reevaluate everything—my values, my sense of self-worth, and how I defined my identity. When I had nothing, I realized how much of my life had been built around external things: my career, my appearance, and my possessions. Losing all of that forced me to dig deeper and find value in things that couldn’t be taken away—my determination, my empathy, and my belief in justice.
Addie Fry:: In the years since your ordeal, you’ve become an advocate for others. How has your story shaped the work you do now?
Rose Duple: My story has given me a purpose. I never want anyone else to feel the way I did—dehumanized, voiceless, and invisible. I work with organizations that help people escape abusive situations, fight exploitative agreements, and rebuild their lives after trauma. My experience taught me that resilience isn’t just about surviving—it’s about finding ways to thrive and make a difference for others.
Addie Fry:: You also returned to the fashion world after everything. What was that like, stepping back into a world that had once been such a big part of your identity?
Rose Duple: It was both terrifying and empowering. Fashion had always been a way for me to express myself, but after what I went through, it took on a new meaning. My designs now focus on comfort, resilience, and empowerment. Every piece I create tells a story of overcoming hardship and embracing individuality. It’s my way of reclaiming the part of me that was tied to that world but on my terms this time.
Addie Fry: If you could go back and tell your younger self one thing before signing that prenuptial agreement, what would it be?
Rose Duple: I would tell her to trust her instincts and value herself more. I would say, “You are worth protecting. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.” And I’d remind her that love doesn’t demand blind trust—it should empower and uplift, not control.
Addie Fry:: Your journey has been so inspiring. What do you hope readers take away from your story?
Rose Duple: I hope they see that no matter how much is taken from you, no matter how deep the pain or humiliation, there is always a way to rebuild. It may not be easy, and it may take time, but we are stronger than we realize. My story is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit—and a reminder that even in the darkest moments, we can find light.
Addie Fry: The terms of your prenuptial agreement were shockingly extreme. Can you elaborate on the specific clauses, particularly the one that essentially gave your ex-husband control over not just your possessions but even your body?
Rose Duple: The prenuptial agreement was unlike anything I’d ever imagined could exist. It stated that in the event of a separation, my ex-husband, Marcus, would gain full custody of everything—our shared assets, all my possessions, and even control over my ability to earn an income. The language was chillingly precise: it effectively claimed ownership of everything about me, including what it referred to as “custody of her body.”
This clause meant that I was legally prohibited from wearing clothing, working in any capacity, or earning income from any source. I couldn’t even barter for food or shelter. It left me completely exposed—literally and figuratively—and utterly dependent on the goodwill of others.
Addie Fry:: That sounds unimaginable. How did 1,000 years come into play?
Rose Duple: The agreement specified that these conditions would remain in effect for 1,000 years. It was a symbolic way of saying that these terms were irreversible and eternal. At the time, I didn’t take it seriously—it seemed absurd. I thought it was just an exaggeration, something Marcus had thrown in to assert control.
But when the divorce was finalized, reality hit me like a brick wall. The judge enforced those terms as though they were set in stone. Even my lawyer, who had initially thought such clauses wouldn’t hold up in court, was shocked when they were upheld. It felt like I was being handed a life sentence.
Addie Fry:: Did Marcus ever explain why he included such extreme conditions?
Rose Duple: I believe it was all about control. Marcus had always been manipulative, and he couldn’t stand the idea of me leaving and rebuilding my life without him. This wasn’t just about taking my possessions or wealth—it was about ensuring that I couldn’t exist as an independent person. It was his way of punishing me for leaving and making sure I remained powerless.
Addie Fry: How did you manage to survive under those terms?
Rose Duple: Survival was incredibly difficult. Without the ability to work, own property, or even wear clothing, I was thrust into a life of homelessness and constant vulnerability. I relied on the kindness of strangers for food and water, and I had to find creative ways to survive. It was humiliating and dehumanizing, but I refused to give up.
The most important thing I clung to was the hope that I could fight back. With the help of Justice Without Chains, I was eventually able to challenge the legality of the agreement. It was a long, grueling process, but it was the only way to regain my freedom and dignity.
Addie Fry:: Looking back, what lessons did you take from that experience?
Rose Duple: I learned the importance of self-advocacy and the dangers of blind trust. Signing that prenuptial agreement was one of the biggest mistakes of my life, but it taught me to value my autonomy and fight for what’s right. It also underscored the importance of legal protections for people in vulnerable situations. I hope that my story can help prevent others from falling into similar traps.
Addie Fry:: Do you think society needs to address how such agreements are drafted and enforced?
Rose Duple: Absolutely. Contracts like mine shouldn’t even be legal. They strip people of their basic rights and humanity, and no court should enforce them. There needs to be more oversight and accountability in how prenuptial agreements are written and approved. People deserve protection from clauses designed to control and exploit them, and I’ll keep advocating for reforms to make sure that happens.
Addie Fry: Ohio is known for its unpredictable and sometimes brutal weather, especially between spring and summer. What was it like trying to survive completely exposed to the elements?
Rose Duple: It was excruciating. Ohio’s climate is unforgiving, especially when you’re completely exposed. During spring, the cold rain would soak me to the bone, and there was no escaping the chill. My skin, which was already sensitive from constant exposure, felt raw and chapped, and I often shivered uncontrollably at night. The dampness would cling to me for hours, and without access to clothing or shelter, I had no way to dry off or warm up.
Summer brought a different kind of torment. The heat was oppressive, and the sun was relentless. My skin, already unprotected, became blistered and sunburned to the point where even a light breeze could feel like sandpaper. Pavement and sidewalks would get so hot that walking barefoot was agonizing, but there was no alternative. I learned to seek out grassy areas or shade when I could, but there were times when I simply had to endure it.
Addie Fry:: Were there specific challenges you faced during storms or extreme weather?
Rose Duple: Absolutely. Thunderstorms were terrifying because I had no safe place to go. I’d find myself crouching under trees or overhangs, trying to shield myself from the pounding rain and wind. Hailstorms were even worse—imagine being completely exposed as chunks of ice pelt your skin. It left bruises and welts, and I’d just huddle up, praying it would pass quickly.
The humidity in summer added another layer of discomfort. Sweat would mix with dirt and grime, and my skin would often develop painful rashes or infections. I had no access to hygiene products, so I had to rely on whatever water sources I could find to try and stay clean.
Addie Fry:: How did you manage to stay safe and healthy in such conditions?
Rose Duple: Honestly, staying safe was almost impossible. I did what I could—seeking shade during the hottest parts of the day, finding shelter under bridges or in abandoned areas during storms—but it was never enough. My health deteriorated quickly. My skin became cracked and infected in places, and I dealt with constant dehydration. The nights were just as brutal as the days, with mosquitoes and other insects biting me relentlessly.
What kept me going was the small acts of kindness I encountered. Sometimes strangers would hand me a bottle of water or point me to a public fountain where I could rehydrate. Those moments gave me just enough strength to keep going.
Addie Fry: Looking back, what was the hardest part of enduring those seasons in the raw?
Rose Duple: The hardest part was the helplessness. No matter how much I tried to protect myself, the elements always won. The cold, the heat, the rain, the insects—they were relentless, and I had no tools to defend myself. It wasn’t just physically exhausting; it was emotionally draining too. I felt invisible to the world like my suffering didn’t matter.
But at the same time, it taught me just how resilient the human spirit can be. Even when I thought I couldn’t survive another day, I found a way to keep going. That strength has stayed with me, even as I’ve moved beyond those dark times. It’s a reminder of what I’ve endured and how far I’ve come.
Addie Fry:: During those difficult times, did you ever attempt to cover up, even partially, to protect yourself from the elements or for a sense of dignity?
Rose Duple: Yes, I tried several times. When you’re exposed like that 24/7, the desire to cover up, even a little, becomes overwhelming—especially during cold or rainy days. There were moments when I used discarded scraps of fabric, blankets, or even large leaves to shield myself. But every time I did, it backfired.
I was arrested multiple times for what they called “reverse indecent exposure.” The irony was cruel. I wasn’t trying to offend anyone—I was simply trying to survive, to protect my skin, or just have a moment where I didn’t feel completely vulnerable. Yet, the law didn’t see it that way. I’d stand before the judge, completely naked, trying to explain my situation, and it was one of the most humiliating parts of the entire ordeal.
Addie Fry:: What was it like standing in court in that state, knowing your attempts to cover up were being punished?
Rose Duple: It was dehumanizing. I felt like I wasn’t seen as a person—just a spectacle. Standing there, fully exposed, while people judged me for something I didn’t even choose, was one of the lowest points. The irony wasn’t lost on me: I was being punished for trying to adhere to societal norms.
Each time, the judge would dismiss my reasons as excuses. They’d say, “The terms of your agreement are clear, and you’ve violated them.” I could see the disdain in their eyes, as though I were some kind of criminal when all I wanted was a small measure of comfort.
Addie Fry:: How did you conclude that attempting to cover up wasn’t worth it?
Rose Duple: After the third or fourth arrest, it became clear that my efforts were only making my situation worse. Every arrest meant more time in holding cells, more court appearances, and more public scrutiny. The emotional toll was enormous. I realized that as much as I wanted to fight back in small ways—like covering my body—it wasn’t worth the additional humiliation and punishment.
I had to accept the reality of my situation, as painful as it was. I stopped trying to cover myself and focused instead on surviving. It wasn’t an easy choice—it felt like giving up a piece of my humanity—but at that point, it was about minimizing harm and finding a way to endure.
Addie Fry:: How did that shift in mindset affect you?
Rose Duple: It was both liberating and heartbreaking. On one hand, I no longer had to live in fear of being arrested every time I tried to protect myself. On the other hand, it meant surrendering to the terms of the prenuptial agreement and accepting the complete loss of control over my body.
But as strange as it sounds, it also steeled my resolve. I realized that if I couldn’t change the terms immediately, I could still fight back in other ways. That’s when I started seeking out organizations like Justice Without Chains. I refused to let Marcus or the legal system break my spirit entirely.
Looking back, that period taught me a lot about resilience and the importance of fighting for justice, even when the odds are stacked against you. And now, having regained my rights, I’ll never take the simple act of wearing clothes—or being seen as a whole person—for granted again.
Addie Fry: That's extraordinary. Looking back, how do you see the person you were compared to who you are now?
Rose Duple: The person I was then was strong in her way but afraid to show vulnerability. Now, I embrace my scars—they're evidence of survival. I've become more compassionate, both toward others and myself.
Addie Fry: Your journey is deeply inspiring. What message do you want to leave with our listeners?
Rose Duple: That dignity and worth are not defined by possessions or how others perceive you. They come from the strength within to endure and rebuild, no matter how much has been taken from them.
Addie Fry: Rose, thank you for sharing your incredible story. It's been an honor to have you here.
Rose Duple: Thank you, Addie. It's been a privilege to be part of this conversation.
Rose Duple: Thank you, Addie. It's truly an honor to be here.
Addie Fry: Before we dive into your story, let me ask—how are you feeling today?
Rose Duple: I'm feeling strong and determined. Sharing my journey has been deeply therapeutic, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to help others who might be facing similar challenges.
Addie Fry: Let's start at the beginning. You were once a celebrated figure in the fashion world, admired for your creativity and elegance to be forgotten. What inspired you to thrive in such a competitive industry?
Rose Duple: I've always been captivated by the power of self-expression through clothing. To me, it's more than fabric; it's identity, confidence, and a way to communicate without words. I loved designing pieces that made people feel visible and empowered. Looking back, I think I also used fashion as a shield to hide my vulnerabilities.
Addie Fry: Your life took a dramatic turn during your divorce. Can you share what that experience was like?
Rose Duple: Of course. My marriage to Marcus, a wealthy businessman, was anything but a partnership. From the start, he was controlling, using his immense wealth and influence to erode my sense of independence and self-worth. He dictated every aspect of my life, and I often felt more like his possession than his wife. When the marriage ended, the prenuptial agreement I had signed under immense pressure came back to haunt me. It left me with absolutely nothing—no financial support, no property, not even the basic legal right to own clothes. He manipulated the legal system to ensure I was completely stripped of my dignity, leaving me homeless and, quite literally, without a thread to call my own. For over five years, I lived in a state of relentless humiliation and constant struggle, navigating a world where even the barest form of protection or decency was out of reach.
Addie Fry: That’s unimaginable, Rose. To endure such a complete loss of autonomy and dignity is heartbreaking. How did you find hope and resilience in such a dark time?
Rose Duple: It wasn’t easy, Addie. At first, I was consumed by anger and despair. I felt invisible as if the world had turned its back on me. But slowly, I began to find strength in the smallest acts of kindness from strangers—a shared meal, a warm blanket offered in secret. These gestures reminded me of my humanity and gave me a reason to keep going. I also began to rediscover my voice, speaking out about my experiences whenever I could. I found solace in connecting with others who had been through similar hardships. Over time, I started to piece together a new life, one step at a time, fueled by a determination to reclaim my identity and my dignity while still penniless and homeless.
Rose Duple: It was incredibly hard. My turning point came when a stranger handed me a flyer for Justice Without Chains. I couldn't believe anyone would care about someone like me, but the organization fought relentlessly for my rights. That's when I realized there was hope, even when everything felt hopeless.
Addie Fry: The legal battle must have been grueling. What gave you the strength to keep going? Before learning about Justice Without Chains every attempt I made to regain my most basic right of covering my body resulted in me being forced to by the police and the humiliation of being forced to stand before various judges in my rawness in the years after the divorce until it deemed the legal system and my ex powerful lawyers had me under constant survivance to ensure that I remain in the constant state of nudity around the clock and that I shall not spend a moment away from the public eye on the streets for face being stripped of those clothes and arrested.
Addie Fry: That is horrible.
Rose Duple: The thought of reclaiming my dignity. Every time I faced my ex-husband's lawyers or testified, I reminded myself that I wasn't just fighting for me—I was fighting for anyone who had been exploited or stripped of their humanity. That purpose fueled me.
Addie Fry: You've spoken about the moment you wore clothing again after your case was resolved. What was that like?
Rose Duple: It was overwhelming. After so long, the fabric felt like fire against my skin—it was nearly unbearable. But I refused to take it off because it symbolized my humanity and a victory over what had been stolen from me during that first month of being bound by that iron-clad prenuptial that made the skin on my body remain his property of ownership.
Addie Fry: How did you begin rebuilding your life after that?
Rose Duple: Step by step. Therapy was crucial in helping me process the trauma. I found a modest apartment and began working with Justice Without Chains to support others in similar situations. I eventually returned to fashion, though I no longer wear clothing myself by choice. Instead, when I was forced to be unclothed 24/7, I didn’t have the luxury of worrying about protective barriers like towels. It didn’t matter where I sat—it could be on concrete, dirt, or a wooden bench. Often, these were the only surfaces available, and I couldn’t afford to be picky. My skin became rough and calloused in some areas simply from constant exposure, and I developed rashes and abrasions from prolonged contact with certain surfaces.
At the time, I didn’t think much about it. I was too focused on surviving. I couldn’t stand it all the time, and I had no real choices about where to rest. The lack of control was dehumanizing. Sitting down felt like another way I was stripped of dignity—literally and figuratively.
I now create designs that celebrate survival and resilience in body art accessories that showcase the individuals who choose this lifestyle.
Addie Fry: Now that you have more control over your environment, how do you approach those situations?
Rose Duple: These days, I’m very conscious about it. I always carry a small towel or a piece of soft fabric with me. It’s not just about comfort; it’s also about hygiene and feeling a sense of protection. Even if I choose not to wear clothing, I’ll still place something between myself and the surface before sitting. It’s a small act, but for me, it’s deeply symbolic. It’s about reclaiming the choice I didn’t have before.
Addie Fry: Do you find that this need for protective measures has an emotional significance for you?
Rose Duple: Definitely. Using a towel or fabric feels like an act of self-care—something I couldn’t prioritize during those years. It’s also a reminder of how far I’ve come. Sitting comfortably, with that small layer of separation, reinforces the fact that I’ve regained control over my life and my body.
Addie Fry: How do you think this perspective shapes your approach to your new work, especially in fashion and advocacy?
Rose Duple: It has influenced everything. In my fashion designs, I prioritize not only beauty but comfort and practicality. I’ve also incorporated foldable, lightweight protective fabrics into my designs, inspired by my need for portable solutions during my recovery. In my advocacy work, I talk a lot about bodily autonomy—whether that’s the right to wear what you want, to protect yourself as you see fit, or to exist comfortably in your skin.
Addie Fry: What message would you give to others who might feel ashamed or self-conscious about taking these kinds of precautions?
Rose Duple: There’s no shame in doing what you need to feel safe and comfortable. Whether that’s carrying a towel, wearing specialized clothing, or making choices others don’t fully understand, it’s about what works for you. Your dignity and humanity aren’t tied to how others perceive your actions—they’re rooted in how you honor yourself.
Addie Fry:: Let’s dive into some of the more personal aspects of your experience. Rose, you’ve lived through some extreme situations. What’s the most intense or unexpected reaction someone’s had to seeing you unclothed in public?
Rose Duple: Oh, there have been plenty of reactions, some extreme, some surprisingly kind. I remember once, during the time I was forced to be nude, an older woman approached me on the street. She didn’t say a word, just handed me a scarf and walked away. It was such a small gesture, but it made me break down in tears. On the other extreme, some people shouted insults or treated me like I was some sort of exhibitionist. One man even tried to spray me with a hose, yelling that I needed to "wash off my shame." It was humiliating, but it also taught me how varied people’s reactions to vulnerability can be.
Addie Fry:: That must have been difficult. What about misconceptions? What’s the most common one you encounter as someone who has had to live without clothing?
Rose Duple: The biggest misconception is that nudity equals promiscuity. People assume that just because you’re naked, you must be sexually available or seeking attention, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Nudity, for me, was never a choice at that time—it was a circumstance of survival. Even now, when I occasionally choose to wear clothes in certain settings, it’s about comfort, not some kind of statement about sexuality.
Addie Fry:: That ties into another question—have people ever made inappropriate assumptions or requests because of your nudity?
Rose Duple: Unfortunately, yes. There have been instances where people assumed I was open to performing sexual acts simply because I was naked. One man in particular approached me on a park bench and propositioned me in such a blatant way that I was stunned. I firmly told him no, but he continued to pester me until another passerby intervened. It’s infuriating and exhausting, but it also underscores how much work we need to do in separating nudity from consent.
Addie Fry:: That must be incredibly frustrating. Switching gears a bit, let’s talk about the practical side of things. How do you handle the cold, rain, or extreme weather? Do you ever wish for a raincoat or jacket?
Rose Duple: Cold and rain are tough, no doubt about it. During the years when I didn’t have clothing, I had to endure everything from freezing temperatures to heavy rainstorms. I would try to find shelter or wrap myself in anything I could scavenge, but often, I just had to endure. Now, I do wear jackets or protective gear when I need to. I’ve learned that it’s okay to prioritize my health and comfort over any ideals about staying unclothed.
Addie Fry:: And what about sitting down, especially in public places? How do you manage that?
Rose Duple: That’s something I’ve become very deliberate about. When I was forced to be unclothed, I didn’t have the option to be selective—it was whatever surface was available. But now, I always carry a towel or a piece of fabric to sit on, both for hygiene and comfort. In restaurants or public spaces, I make it a point to use my towel, and most people appreciate the courtesy. It’s a small thing, but it makes a big difference in how I feel and how others perceive me.
Addie Fry: Have you encountered judgment or awkwardness in those settings?
Rose Duple: Occasionally. Some people are curious or uncomfortable, but others are supportive or even admiring of my transparency and care for hygiene. I think most people respect thoughtfulness, regardless of the context.
Addie Fry:: One last practical question—what’s it like going without shoes? Have you ever regretted not having something to protect your feet?
Rose Duple: Oh. There were days when the sidewalk felt like it was on fire, or when stepping on sharp rocks left my feet bruised and cut. It’s not easy, and I do wear shoes now when the situation calls for it. That said, going barefoot for so long taught me to be more mindful of my surroundings, and I’ve developed a kind of resilience. Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes long for a sturdy pair of boots when hiking!
Addie Fry:: It’s clear you’ve faced every challenge with determination. Your perspective is eye-opening.
Rose Duple: Thank you. If my experiences can spark understanding or empathy, then sharing them is worth it.
Addie Fry: Your prenuptial agreement played a significant role in the challenges you faced. Can you tell us about how that came to be and how it impacted your life?
Rose Duple: The prenuptial agreement was something I signed under a lot of pressure, both from my ex-husband, Marcus, and even my family. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Marcus framed it as a standard formality, and I trusted him. He was charming, and persuasive, and made me feel like we were equals. Looking back, I realize how naïve I was.
The document had clauses that were not only punitive but also, in hindsight, deeply inhumane. It stipulated that in the event of a divorce, I would forfeit all rights to shared assets, personal property, and even the ability to work in my field. The most shocking clause was the one that barred me from wearing clothing. It was Marcus’s way of asserting control, ensuring I couldn’t simply rebuild my life after leaving him.
Addie Fry:: That’s astonishingly cruel. How did you feel when the terms of the agreement were enforced?
Rose Duple: Devastated. I felt like my entire identity had been erased. Losing my possessions and financial security was one thing, but the clothing clause stripped me of my dignity. It wasn’t just about being naked; it was about being exposed, vulnerable, and dehumanized. It made me question my worth because I had unknowingly agreed to something that reduced me to nothing.
Addie Fry:: Did you have any legal recourse at the time?
Rose Duple: Initially, no. The agreement was ironclad, and my legal options seemed limited. It wasn’t until I connected with Justice Without Chains that I began to see a path forward. They helped me challenge the prenuptial agreement on constitutional grounds, arguing that certain provisions violated my basic human rights.
Addie Fry:: That must have been a grueling process. What kept you going during the legal battle?
Rose Duple: Honestly, it was the hope that no one else would ever have to go through what I did. Every time I thought about giving up, I reminded myself that this fight wasn’t just for me—it was for anyone who had been exploited or trapped in an abusive situation.
Addie Fry:: When the court finally ruled in your favor, what did that moment mean to you?
Rose Duple: It was a mixture of relief and anger. I was relieved to have my freedom and some compensation to rebuild my life, but I was also furious that it had taken so much pain and effort to prove that those clauses were wrong. The ruling was a victory, but it was bittersweet because it couldn’t undo the years I had lost or the trauma I had endured.
Addie Fry: Has your experience with the prenuptial agreement influenced your advocacy work?
Rose Duple: Absolutely. One of my missions now is to educate people about the importance of understanding what they’re signing, especially in relationships. Prenuptial agreements can serve a purpose, but they should never be tools for exploitation or control. I also work to support reforms that ensure such extreme clauses are deemed unenforceable from the outset.
Addie Fry:: What advice would you give to someone considering a prenuptial agreement?
Rose Duple: Take your time, get independent legal counsel, and don’t let anyone pressure you. A healthy relationship is built on trust and mutual respect, and no agreement should strip you of your basic rights or autonomy. If something feels off, trust your instincts and seek advice. It’s better to ask tough questions upfront than to face devastating consequences later.
Addie Fry: The moment when you were told to surrender everything, including your clothing, must have been devastating. Can you walk us through what that was like and how it unfolded?
Rose Duple: That moment will stay with me forever. I had already lost so much—my home, my possessions, my finances. I felt like I was holding on by a thread, trying to stay strong, thinking things couldn’t possibly get worse. But then my lawyer informed me of the judge's decision to enforce the full terms of the prenuptial agreement, which included surrendering every last item I had—even the contents of my purse—and leaving me with nothing but the skin on my back.
I remember sitting in my lawyer's office when he broke the news. He handed me the document with the judge's ruling, and I could barely read past the first few lines before my vision blurred with tears. It felt like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t comprehend how this was legal, how anyone could decide that a human being should be stripped down to nothing—literally.
Addie Fry:: What were the immediate emotions running through your mind?
Rose Duple: At first, it was disbelief. I kept thinking, This can’t be real. They can’t ask me to do this. Then the reality set in, and I was overwhelmed by shame, anger, and fear. Shame, because I knew I’d be exposed in a way that felt deeply humiliating. Anger, because it was so cruel and unnecessary—this wasn’t just a legal punishment; it was dehumanization. And fear, because I had no idea how I was going to survive.
Addie Fry:: What happened next?
Rose Duple: My lawyer explained that I had 24 hours to comply. I had to surrender all my possessions, including my clothing, shoes, and even the small items in my purse—things like my wallet, keys, and phone. The thought of walking out into the world like that was unbearable. I couldn’t stop crying, and my lawyer tried to comfort me, but there was nothing he could say that would make it better.
When the deadline came, I was met by court officers at a designated location. I had to undress right there and hand over everything. The process was cold, clinical, and completely devoid of compassion. I felt like I wasn’t a person to them, just another case to process.
Addie Fry:: What did that moment feel like, having to surrender your clothes and stand there exposed?
Rose Duple: It felt like they were stripping away the last shred of my humanity. Clothing isn’t just fabric—it’s protection, identity, and dignity. Standing there, completely exposed, I felt naked in every sense of the word. Vulnerable, powerless, and raw. I tried to cover myself with my hands, but it was useless. My body wasn’t just mine anymore—it was something on display, something people could judge or ignore as they saw fit.
Addie Fry:: How did you handle stepping out into the world after that?
Rose Duple: It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I had to walk out of that building unclothed, feeling every pair of eyes on me, even if they weren’t looking. The air on my skin felt like a constant reminder of how exposed I was. People stared, whispered, laughed, or pretended not to see me, which somehow hurt just as much.
I had nowhere to go. I wandered, avoiding crowds and trying to find places to hide. The humiliation was constant—every glance, every comment was like a dagger. But what made it even worse was the silence. So many people looked right past me as if I didn’t exist.
Addie Fry: How did you cope in the days and weeks that followed?
Rose Duple: At first, I was in survival mode. I had to focus on basic needs—finding food, water, and some form of shelter. The nights were the worst. I’d curl up in hidden corners, trying to stay warm and out of sight. My body ached from sleeping on hard surfaces, and my skin was constantly sore from exposure.
Emotionally, I had to compartmentalize. I couldn’t let myself think too much about the life I had lost, or I’d break down completely. There were moments when I felt like giving up, but I told myself I couldn’t let them win. I couldn’t let this define me forever.
Addie Fry:: Looking back now, how do you view that moment and the journey that followed?
Rose Duple: It was the lowest point in my life, but it also marked the beginning of my transformation. That moment forced me to confront what truly mattered—my resilience, my strength, and my will to survive. It’s a scar I carry, but it’s also a reminder of what I’ve overcome.
More importantly, it’s made me passionate about fighting for others who are dehumanized or stripped of their rights. No one should ever have to endure what I went through. That experience, as painful as it was, shaped me into the person I am today. And for that, I’m strangely grateful.
Addie Fry: The title of your story, Stripped to the Core, feels deeply symbolic. What does it mean to you personally?
Rose Duple: To me, it reflects the rawness of my experience—being stripped of everything, not just physically but emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. It’s about hitting rock bottom, being reduced to what felt like nothing, and finding the strength to rise again. The “core” represents the part of me that couldn’t be taken away, no matter how much I lost.
Addie Fry:: You’ve mentioned that the experience forced you to confront who you were at your most vulnerable. How did that process change you?
Rose Duple: It made me reevaluate everything—my values, my sense of self-worth, and how I defined my identity. When I had nothing, I realized how much of my life had been built around external things: my career, my appearance, and my possessions. Losing all of that forced me to dig deeper and find value in things that couldn’t be taken away—my determination, my empathy, and my belief in justice.
Addie Fry:: In the years since your ordeal, you’ve become an advocate for others. How has your story shaped the work you do now?
Rose Duple: My story has given me a purpose. I never want anyone else to feel the way I did—dehumanized, voiceless, and invisible. I work with organizations that help people escape abusive situations, fight exploitative agreements, and rebuild their lives after trauma. My experience taught me that resilience isn’t just about surviving—it’s about finding ways to thrive and make a difference for others.
Addie Fry:: You also returned to the fashion world after everything. What was that like, stepping back into a world that had once been such a big part of your identity?
Rose Duple: It was both terrifying and empowering. Fashion had always been a way for me to express myself, but after what I went through, it took on a new meaning. My designs now focus on comfort, resilience, and empowerment. Every piece I create tells a story of overcoming hardship and embracing individuality. It’s my way of reclaiming the part of me that was tied to that world but on my terms this time.
Addie Fry: If you could go back and tell your younger self one thing before signing that prenuptial agreement, what would it be?
Rose Duple: I would tell her to trust her instincts and value herself more. I would say, “You are worth protecting. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.” And I’d remind her that love doesn’t demand blind trust—it should empower and uplift, not control.
Addie Fry:: Your journey has been so inspiring. What do you hope readers take away from your story?
Rose Duple: I hope they see that no matter how much is taken from you, no matter how deep the pain or humiliation, there is always a way to rebuild. It may not be easy, and it may take time, but we are stronger than we realize. My story is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit—and a reminder that even in the darkest moments, we can find light.
Addie Fry: The terms of your prenuptial agreement were shockingly extreme. Can you elaborate on the specific clauses, particularly the one that essentially gave your ex-husband control over not just your possessions but even your body?
Rose Duple: The prenuptial agreement was unlike anything I’d ever imagined could exist. It stated that in the event of a separation, my ex-husband, Marcus, would gain full custody of everything—our shared assets, all my possessions, and even control over my ability to earn an income. The language was chillingly precise: it effectively claimed ownership of everything about me, including what it referred to as “custody of her body.”
This clause meant that I was legally prohibited from wearing clothing, working in any capacity, or earning income from any source. I couldn’t even barter for food or shelter. It left me completely exposed—literally and figuratively—and utterly dependent on the goodwill of others.
Addie Fry:: That sounds unimaginable. How did 1,000 years come into play?
Rose Duple: The agreement specified that these conditions would remain in effect for 1,000 years. It was a symbolic way of saying that these terms were irreversible and eternal. At the time, I didn’t take it seriously—it seemed absurd. I thought it was just an exaggeration, something Marcus had thrown in to assert control.
But when the divorce was finalized, reality hit me like a brick wall. The judge enforced those terms as though they were set in stone. Even my lawyer, who had initially thought such clauses wouldn’t hold up in court, was shocked when they were upheld. It felt like I was being handed a life sentence.
Addie Fry:: Did Marcus ever explain why he included such extreme conditions?
Rose Duple: I believe it was all about control. Marcus had always been manipulative, and he couldn’t stand the idea of me leaving and rebuilding my life without him. This wasn’t just about taking my possessions or wealth—it was about ensuring that I couldn’t exist as an independent person. It was his way of punishing me for leaving and making sure I remained powerless.
Addie Fry: How did you manage to survive under those terms?
Rose Duple: Survival was incredibly difficult. Without the ability to work, own property, or even wear clothing, I was thrust into a life of homelessness and constant vulnerability. I relied on the kindness of strangers for food and water, and I had to find creative ways to survive. It was humiliating and dehumanizing, but I refused to give up.
The most important thing I clung to was the hope that I could fight back. With the help of Justice Without Chains, I was eventually able to challenge the legality of the agreement. It was a long, grueling process, but it was the only way to regain my freedom and dignity.
Addie Fry:: Looking back, what lessons did you take from that experience?
Rose Duple: I learned the importance of self-advocacy and the dangers of blind trust. Signing that prenuptial agreement was one of the biggest mistakes of my life, but it taught me to value my autonomy and fight for what’s right. It also underscored the importance of legal protections for people in vulnerable situations. I hope that my story can help prevent others from falling into similar traps.
Addie Fry:: Do you think society needs to address how such agreements are drafted and enforced?
Rose Duple: Absolutely. Contracts like mine shouldn’t even be legal. They strip people of their basic rights and humanity, and no court should enforce them. There needs to be more oversight and accountability in how prenuptial agreements are written and approved. People deserve protection from clauses designed to control and exploit them, and I’ll keep advocating for reforms to make sure that happens.
Addie Fry: Ohio is known for its unpredictable and sometimes brutal weather, especially between spring and summer. What was it like trying to survive completely exposed to the elements?
Rose Duple: It was excruciating. Ohio’s climate is unforgiving, especially when you’re completely exposed. During spring, the cold rain would soak me to the bone, and there was no escaping the chill. My skin, which was already sensitive from constant exposure, felt raw and chapped, and I often shivered uncontrollably at night. The dampness would cling to me for hours, and without access to clothing or shelter, I had no way to dry off or warm up.
Summer brought a different kind of torment. The heat was oppressive, and the sun was relentless. My skin, already unprotected, became blistered and sunburned to the point where even a light breeze could feel like sandpaper. Pavement and sidewalks would get so hot that walking barefoot was agonizing, but there was no alternative. I learned to seek out grassy areas or shade when I could, but there were times when I simply had to endure it.
Addie Fry:: Were there specific challenges you faced during storms or extreme weather?
Rose Duple: Absolutely. Thunderstorms were terrifying because I had no safe place to go. I’d find myself crouching under trees or overhangs, trying to shield myself from the pounding rain and wind. Hailstorms were even worse—imagine being completely exposed as chunks of ice pelt your skin. It left bruises and welts, and I’d just huddle up, praying it would pass quickly.
The humidity in summer added another layer of discomfort. Sweat would mix with dirt and grime, and my skin would often develop painful rashes or infections. I had no access to hygiene products, so I had to rely on whatever water sources I could find to try and stay clean.
Addie Fry:: How did you manage to stay safe and healthy in such conditions?
Rose Duple: Honestly, staying safe was almost impossible. I did what I could—seeking shade during the hottest parts of the day, finding shelter under bridges or in abandoned areas during storms—but it was never enough. My health deteriorated quickly. My skin became cracked and infected in places, and I dealt with constant dehydration. The nights were just as brutal as the days, with mosquitoes and other insects biting me relentlessly.
What kept me going was the small acts of kindness I encountered. Sometimes strangers would hand me a bottle of water or point me to a public fountain where I could rehydrate. Those moments gave me just enough strength to keep going.
Addie Fry: Looking back, what was the hardest part of enduring those seasons in the raw?
Rose Duple: The hardest part was the helplessness. No matter how much I tried to protect myself, the elements always won. The cold, the heat, the rain, the insects—they were relentless, and I had no tools to defend myself. It wasn’t just physically exhausting; it was emotionally draining too. I felt invisible to the world like my suffering didn’t matter.
But at the same time, it taught me just how resilient the human spirit can be. Even when I thought I couldn’t survive another day, I found a way to keep going. That strength has stayed with me, even as I’ve moved beyond those dark times. It’s a reminder of what I’ve endured and how far I’ve come.
Addie Fry:: During those difficult times, did you ever attempt to cover up, even partially, to protect yourself from the elements or for a sense of dignity?
Rose Duple: Yes, I tried several times. When you’re exposed like that 24/7, the desire to cover up, even a little, becomes overwhelming—especially during cold or rainy days. There were moments when I used discarded scraps of fabric, blankets, or even large leaves to shield myself. But every time I did, it backfired.
I was arrested multiple times for what they called “reverse indecent exposure.” The irony was cruel. I wasn’t trying to offend anyone—I was simply trying to survive, to protect my skin, or just have a moment where I didn’t feel completely vulnerable. Yet, the law didn’t see it that way. I’d stand before the judge, completely naked, trying to explain my situation, and it was one of the most humiliating parts of the entire ordeal.
Addie Fry:: What was it like standing in court in that state, knowing your attempts to cover up were being punished?
Rose Duple: It was dehumanizing. I felt like I wasn’t seen as a person—just a spectacle. Standing there, fully exposed, while people judged me for something I didn’t even choose, was one of the lowest points. The irony wasn’t lost on me: I was being punished for trying to adhere to societal norms.
Each time, the judge would dismiss my reasons as excuses. They’d say, “The terms of your agreement are clear, and you’ve violated them.” I could see the disdain in their eyes, as though I were some kind of criminal when all I wanted was a small measure of comfort.
Addie Fry:: How did you conclude that attempting to cover up wasn’t worth it?
Rose Duple: After the third or fourth arrest, it became clear that my efforts were only making my situation worse. Every arrest meant more time in holding cells, more court appearances, and more public scrutiny. The emotional toll was enormous. I realized that as much as I wanted to fight back in small ways—like covering my body—it wasn’t worth the additional humiliation and punishment.
I had to accept the reality of my situation, as painful as it was. I stopped trying to cover myself and focused instead on surviving. It wasn’t an easy choice—it felt like giving up a piece of my humanity—but at that point, it was about minimizing harm and finding a way to endure.
Addie Fry:: How did that shift in mindset affect you?
Rose Duple: It was both liberating and heartbreaking. On one hand, I no longer had to live in fear of being arrested every time I tried to protect myself. On the other hand, it meant surrendering to the terms of the prenuptial agreement and accepting the complete loss of control over my body.
But as strange as it sounds, it also steeled my resolve. I realized that if I couldn’t change the terms immediately, I could still fight back in other ways. That’s when I started seeking out organizations like Justice Without Chains. I refused to let Marcus or the legal system break my spirit entirely.
Looking back, that period taught me a lot about resilience and the importance of fighting for justice, even when the odds are stacked against you. And now, having regained my rights, I’ll never take the simple act of wearing clothes—or being seen as a whole person—for granted again.
Addie Fry: That's extraordinary. Looking back, how do you see the person you were compared to who you are now?
Rose Duple: The person I was then was strong in her way but afraid to show vulnerability. Now, I embrace my scars—they're evidence of survival. I've become more compassionate, both toward others and myself.
Addie Fry: Your journey is deeply inspiring. What message do you want to leave with our listeners?
Rose Duple: That dignity and worth are not defined by possessions or how others perceive you. They come from the strength within to endure and rebuild, no matter how much has been taken from them.
Addie Fry: Rose, thank you for sharing your incredible story. It's been an honor to have you here.
Rose Duple: Thank you, Addie. It's been a privilege to be part of this conversation.
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barelin
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Re: A Conversation with Rose Duple
Horrible ManHe manipulated the legal system to ensure I was completely stripped of my dignity, leaving me homeless and, quite literally, without a thread to call my own. For over five years, I lived in a state of relentless humiliation and constant struggle, navigating a world where even the barest form of protection or decency was out of reach.
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