Few people, in fact, have taken advantage of the law, based on Stover's anecdotal evidence as well as a recent weekday trip to a crowded Nantucket beach. Not to mention, some beachgoers don't seem to know the law exists.
"It's the freedom people were looking for," said Stover. "Not necessarily to go and do it, but to know that they could."
For the past three summers, anyone, regardless of gender, has been able to go topless at Nantucket beaches under the new bylaw, which passed in the winter of 2022 with an 87-vote margin and secured rights for women that have been afforded to men for decades.
At the time of the bylaw's passage, there was consternation, pushback, and fears of what the tony island would become. Stover, who considered her efforts a part of the movement for "topfreedom," didn't hear from some friends and loved ones. One friend told her they would "never speak to you again."
Nantucket, which has a number of public beaches, is the first town in Massachusetts specifically to address toplessness in its bylaws. On other beaches around the Commonwealth, there are sections where nude sunbathing is informally accepted, such as Moshup Beach on Martha's Vineyard and Boy Beach in Provincetown. Nantucket even has an unofficial nude beach, an unmarked spot roughly between Miacomet Pond and the Surfside sewer beds.
The acceptance of laws like Nantucket's is a trend across the country, according to Erich Schuttauf, executive director and general counsel for the American Association of Nude Recreation, a national nudist organization.
Just three months ago, the Minnesota Supreme Court ruled being topless didn't qualify as "lewd" behavior. Similar rulings have been upheld in Colorado and New York, he said.
"We do see it as a positive development and part of an overall change in thinking," Schuttauf said. "We support the folks in Nantucket and what they have done. It's an act of leadership. The community has dealt with it very matter-of-fact."
On a recent beach day on Nantucket, sunbathers lay on blankets under the hot, mid-August sun. Several of them approached by a Boston Globe reporter had never heard of the law.
"I don't care, but I'm a little shocked," said Sophia Malone, an 18-year-old Northeastern University student who comes to the beach with her sister, Sam, every summer. "Not that there's anything inherently bad about topless beaches."
Joanna McDade, 62, comes to visit her son on the island every summer, and said she didn't know about the law either. She said, however, that she would not participate.
Why? "Modesty!" McDade, of Bangor, said. "No one needs to see that."
Kari England, a local designer who owns a clothing store on the island, says skinny dipping is "blessing the soul."
"You're alive, living in the moment," England said. "No need [for] a picture or a selfie . . . just be."
Stover said the vote on the toplessness bylaw made people understand that "you have more rights than you realize."
"The more choices we have, the richer life gets," she said.
Stover had long believed that women should be able go top-free, as she relished her time tanning topless or swimming nude in the island's clear, blue waters. In 2022, she called up her sister, a paralegal, and got to work drafting language.
"I was at the beach and saw men who had larger breasts than I do," Stover said. "And all I wanted was to be topless at this beach." "
Stover pointed out that when Nantucket banned helium and plastic straws, opposition was just as fervent. But as people get used to change, the backlash dies down.