Me and My Body Hair
I remember the exact moment I first felt embarrassed about my body hair. I was thirteen and I raised my hand in science class when a girl asked me "Do you not shave your snail trail?", to which I had never felt so ashamed.
My body hair never seemed like an issue until other people started commenting on it, but it quickly became a part of nearly every conversation I had amongst other teenage girls. There was always a debate on what was most effective way of removing it or how to avoid rashes or razor burn but mostly what boys thought about it - and how differently they might treat you if you showed up to school with a skirt on and forgot to shave that morning.
We're never told that body hair can be beautiful.
Everything that surrounds young women tells
us to be ashamed and consequently, we're taught to apologise, to feel
embarrassed and to hide something that's perfectly natural. We're made to feel
as if we owe everyone an explanation because we think others are entitled to an
opinion on our own bodies. The reality is that when women choose to grow their body
hair, we're subjected to this type of treatment all the time, but we often just
allow it because it's exhausting having to defend ourselves. This experience of
having your choice questioned and scrutinised by anyone who feels like it, is
invasive. Women don't owe anyone shit and they certainly don't owe you an
explanation.
I've had people physically approach me and ask about my body hair - complete strangers who think it's appropriate to comment on my appearance, just because they can. Ranging from "why would you do that to yourself?" to "men don't find that attractive", they've all been a presumptuous invasion of my privacy. Yet in most situations, I've given a dignified response because I'm scared of confrontation - and possibly what the reaction might be if I didn't.
I don't know if I'll ever go a day where I don't question my relationship with body hair. It's formed so many parts of my identity and whilst it's unintentionally invited others to have an opinion on a body that isn't their own, I've learnt so much about my body through simply allowing it to exist. It became such a place for debate and scrutiny that I forgot to let it breathe - but I don't think that's uncommon for women. Our bodies are political, they always have been and it's only when we reclaim them, that it then becomes an issue for everyone to have an opinion on. Being labelled as a "crazy feminist" for reclaiming my body and growing out my hair is not nearly as scary as existing as a woman in this world.
My body hair is beautiful - but it took me a frustratingly long time to come to that conclusion.
Notes:
