Removing body hair has been a part-time job for me since I was a teenager. I don’t mean professionally – I mean I spend about as much time as I do working part-time removing my body hair, from my legs to my pits to my pubic hair. I’m 5’10 and Greek, so for me, body hair is like a mile-long celebration of black thread weed. I think I once saw a goat grazing in my armpit.
Then there’s my daughter. She is 11 years old and starting to grow some hair. When she asked me if she could borrow a razor to shave her legs, I said no. I stood in our bathroom after a brand new full body shave while showing her my feminist views on the sexist pressures of hair removal. Note: She pointed out the obvious.
I do shave, but it’s not the same. Also, I’ve had a change in removing hair – these days, it’s seasonal. It’s only on the summer calendar. But how can I defend my position on the beauty of body hair when I remove my own body hair? Shaving cream is on the wall, and I don’t have a good answer. So, I said what my mom said to me: If you shave now, it will grow thicker.
First of all, I’m pretty sure that’s not even true. Second, when my mom said that, I ignored her warning and stole her razor and shaved anyway …… without water or soap. (Note: It was then that I learned what razor burn was.) Third, doesn’t this warning still contradict my position on the feminist merits of body hair?
I have a lot of ideas to work with. In an effort to sort out my thoughts, I sat down and journaled to get my deeper perspective on this furry topic. Note: I did not keep a journal. After I ate some pizza, I just laid down and took a nap. But somewhere in that time thought took place.
When I thought about why I shave, I realized that removing body hair is deeply ingrained (or should I say growing inward?!) . Shaving has become a habit for me and part of what I consider to be part of being a woman. It’s a cross I have to bear! Sadly, this cross has become difficult to break.
I pat myself on the back for at least growing out of the bush, but when I think about it, I realize it’s not a strong statement. No one knows when I’ve grown up and I’m still dressing up for summer beach wear. I’m a liar – just like this electric razor I bought, it doesn’t work. Note: Do your homework before buying an electric razor.
I’ve seen young women with armpit hair and I think it’s powerful and attractive. So I challenged myself to grow out my own armpit hair put it in there for a week and shave. I didn’t feel very good or attractive. What was my hang-up?
I realized that it wasn’t a hang-up. This is me. I’m the razor, the epilator, the groomer! I said it there. And it’s okay. I’ve been doing this my whole life, and it makes me feel good and comfortable. Maybe I didn’t start shaving for the right reasons – I’ll never forget that moment in middle school, for example, when Matt Springer pointed out a hair on the back of my leg that I missed when I shaved. I was embarrassed, and I shouldn’t have been – but the expectation of women looking perfect is unrealistic and unfair. We do too much of that! I didn’t even mention the chin hair I’ve started pulling out.
But I wanted to give my daughter something different. I don’t want her to feel like she has to do these things because other people expect it and will measure her worth. If she wants to shave because she wants to do it, that’s fine. If she doesn’t, that’s fine, but why the rush? She doesn’t have to start now. In time, if she decides to shave her parts, we’ll discuss it and I’ll make sure she does it right. Note: There will be water and the right amount of shaving cream.