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Abstract

defective?</b></p><h1 id="684f">My inner struggles with body hair</h1><p id="785d">The thing is, I still perceive hairless women as being more attractive. So the past two years have felt like a tug of war. Do I take a stand for my freedom and autonomy, or do I want others to view me as sexy?</p><p id="ad79">But like the modeling show, many movies and TV shows perpetuate the idea that body hair on women is gross. In Sex and the City, the ladies criticize Miranda for her “unkept” bikini area, even suggesting her body hair may have caused her husband to cheat.</p><p id="5551">When I started having sex, I shaved meticulously, nearly every day. One time, I used the blades within an hour of meeting up with my then-boyfriend; afterward, he commented: “Oh, you actually shaved today.” Though I feel furious now, I felt embarrassed back then. Even though he certainly didn’t shave his body hair, I accepted the double standards.</p><p id="930c">Because here’s the thing: I have naturally long, dark, and fast-growing body hair. Until recently, I felt devastated by those facts and believed men had the right to criticize my body.</p><p id="03c7">Then I read <a href="https://medium.com/@yaelwolfe">Yael Wolfe</a>’s story about not shaving her legs and felt inspired by the fact that I’m far from alone in my body hair struggles. If hair grows naturally on my body and I’m a woman, my natural body form is inherently feminine. I don’t have to change myself to prove femininity.</p><h1 id="3da0">Making choices about my body hair now</h1><p id="da6f">Lately, I’ve let my leg hairs grow out as long as they go, and I feel like I’m living an experiment. More than not wanting to spend so much time on upkeep, I wonder: <b>why do I feel like I have to shave?</b></p><p id="efc0">Because the truth is, if the hair on my legs determines whether or not someone wants to be my friend or partner, those aren’t great relationships to begin with. I’m done with engaging in relationships that leave me feeling interchangeable.</p><p id="8f29">I reset my perspective by considering my response to women I’ve seen with body hair. One woman at my pole dance class had grown out her armpit hair. She looked beautiful, confident, and natural. I remember feeling inspired by her bravery, even a bit jealous. <b>What if leaning into my “edginess” actually attracts more like-minded people?</b></p><p id="ba97">Though I still struggle with the “attractiveness” factor, I feel a sense of boldness and free-spirited energy. I have sensed people looking at me differently, with questioning facial expressions. Maybe I’m also inspiring people,<b> if only to start questioning their perception of beauty and what is “acceptable” for women.</b></p><p id="db93">Why do we expect women to shave everything and not men? Why does someone’s natural body seem out of place in a skirt? Even scarier — why have we accepted that it’s okay for someone else to dictate female body hair?</p><p id="9dd3">Though there are many routes to self-esteem and acceptance, sharing our stories and the countless micro-aggressions seems like an impactful first step. We’re far from alone in cultural repression. <b>With transparent female narratives, maybe we’ll start to reset our perspective of beauty and reclaim our bodies.</b></p><p id="be0d">Embracing body hair still feels new for me. But the more I listen to my true feelings and question my assum

Options

ptions, the more grounded I feel.</p><p id="0a78">Though I’ve been taking a break from dating and switched to trimming my bikini area, I recently received my first compliment about my choices. I had sex with a kind man who said my lady parts looked especially beautiful. Even though the comment came from a man, hearing that felt heartwarming.</p><p id="9829"><b>“Nonchalance and awe are the only acceptable reactions,”</b> said one woman, being interviewed by a Healthline writer on her body hair choices. At this point in my life, I can wholeheartedly agree.</p><p id="309a">I’ve surprised myself by increasing self-respect and self-worth as I let my body hair grow. I feel freer as I continue to develop a healthier relationship with myself. I’m embracing the journey of self-acceptance, including all the moments of anxiety and uncertainty.</p><p id="761d">Though my body hair decisions will change, I feel ridiculously proud and grateful to be reclaiming my choice.</p><p id="9559">Thank you for reading my writing! If you want to <a href="https://alice-crady.medium.com/membership">read more inspiring stories</a>, you can get an all-access Medium membership for $5 per month. If you wouldn’t mind using <a href="https://alice-crady.medium.com/membership">my referral link</a>, I get a small commission. I appreciate your support and enjoy sharing my creativity with you!</p><p id="ad68"><b><i>More on feminism:</i></b></p><div id="2d2f" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/5-books-that-will-help-you-become-the-best-kind-of-feminist-24bd96bc5a17"> <div> <div> <h2>5 Books That Will Help You Become the Best Kind of Feminist</h2> <div><h3>They changed everything for me — I’m a “red pill”-type person.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*r-6wSKWJABbyTrtvkBg76g.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="8650" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/why-female-friendships-may-be-the-best-way-to-resist-patriarchy-62ba02b186ea"> <div> <div> <h2>Why Female Friendships May Be the Best Way to Resist Patriarchy</h2> <div><h3>We can’t do this alone.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*PcJSBQ4MTJiZjsX_Oi7OhA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="fc1d" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/12-ways-i-do-romance-differently-as-a-sensitive-newly-empowered-woman-269689fd2b9e"> <div> <div> <h2>12 Ways I Do Romance Differently as a Sensitive, Newly Empowered Woman</h2> <div><h3>#2. I expect to be treated like a queen.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*TBcns4SxMcCTuMshDron5g.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Body Hair: How Reclaiming It After 17 Years Increased My Self-Esteem

I’m trading patriarchal conditioning for self-acceptance.

At 11 years old, I started shaving my legs and armpits. Though I noticed grown women had smooth legs, I grew determined to start shaving when my adult uncle said: “Eww, women don’t have hairy legs. That’s gross. When are you going to start shaving?”

I’ve received and witnessed body hair shaming for many years. When I had my first “serious” boyfriend, I felt self-conscious about my vulva hair. I read enough Cosmopolitan magazines to know most men prefer hairless lady parts. Upon discovery, he said, “I don’t really care, but I won’t put my mouth down there if it’s like that.”

I’ve been judged by other women and several romantic partners no matter how much effort I put into removing all the hair. Also, did you see that episode of “America’s Next Top Model” where Tyra Banks shames one of the women for her body hair? She had a tiny bit of fuzz visible in her armpits. I watched that when I was 14 years old and fully internalized it.

But I began unpeeling the many layers of patriarchal conditioning two years ago with a Jungian depth therapist. We focused on root causes, and I immersed myself in several recommended books on the psychology of perfectionism, repressed femininity, and the history of patriarchy.

Covid quarantine provided an opportunity to experiment with my body hair choices. I had never even considered not shaving my legs, armpits, and bikini area. I just accepted that I would continuously be grooming.

I have unconsciously been trying to meet impossible expectations for most of my life, including how I present my body to the world. But what if I stopped? Can I reset my perspective of beauty to be more authentic and natural? Am I still lovable with a hairy body?

Why talking about female body hair matters

For likely the past 12,000 years, our culture has prioritized masculine traits and values. Most women feel pressured to appear visually pleasing to men. Our culture has conditioned women to conform to media-perpetuated beauty standards.

Many women, like me, spend thousands of hours on messy, painful, and tedious body hair removal. Even though shaving became a cultural norm in the last century, it seems like just one more way women feel pressured to disconnect from their bodies.

Though it seems like just some dark hair on my legs, body hair positivity is about fully accepting my natural self. It’s about calling-out double standards and freeing women’s bodies. For me, it’s also about unraveling perfectionism, people-pleasing, and shallow relationships.

While I believe shaving is a personal choice, I never felt like I had a choice — and I’m sure many women can relate. I was born with a body that grows hair on my legs, vulva, and armpits — why is my body considered gross? Why do we accept the message that women’s bodies are inherently aesthetically defective?

My inner struggles with body hair

The thing is, I still perceive hairless women as being more attractive. So the past two years have felt like a tug of war. Do I take a stand for my freedom and autonomy, or do I want others to view me as sexy?

But like the modeling show, many movies and TV shows perpetuate the idea that body hair on women is gross. In Sex and the City, the ladies criticize Miranda for her “unkept” bikini area, even suggesting her body hair may have caused her husband to cheat.

When I started having sex, I shaved meticulously, nearly every day. One time, I used the blades within an hour of meeting up with my then-boyfriend; afterward, he commented: “Oh, you actually shaved today.” Though I feel furious now, I felt embarrassed back then. Even though he certainly didn’t shave his body hair, I accepted the double standards.

Because here’s the thing: I have naturally long, dark, and fast-growing body hair. Until recently, I felt devastated by those facts and believed men had the right to criticize my body.

Then I read Yael Wolfe’s story about not shaving her legs and felt inspired by the fact that I’m far from alone in my body hair struggles. If hair grows naturally on my body and I’m a woman, my natural body form is inherently feminine. I don’t have to change myself to prove femininity.

Making choices about my body hair now

Lately, I’ve let my leg hairs grow out as long as they go, and I feel like I’m living an experiment. More than not wanting to spend so much time on upkeep, I wonder: why do I feel like I have to shave?

Because the truth is, if the hair on my legs determines whether or not someone wants to be my friend or partner, those aren’t great relationships to begin with. I’m done with engaging in relationships that leave me feeling interchangeable.

I reset my perspective by considering my response to women I’ve seen with body hair. One woman at my pole dance class had grown out her armpit hair. She looked beautiful, confident, and natural. I remember feeling inspired by her bravery, even a bit jealous. What if leaning into my “edginess” actually attracts more like-minded people?

Though I still struggle with the “attractiveness” factor, I feel a sense of boldness and free-spirited energy. I have sensed people looking at me differently, with questioning facial expressions. Maybe I’m also inspiring people, if only to start questioning their perception of beauty and what is “acceptable” for women.

Why do we expect women to shave everything and not men? Why does someone’s natural body seem out of place in a skirt? Even scarier — why have we accepted that it’s okay for someone else to dictate female body hair?

Though there are many routes to self-esteem and acceptance, sharing our stories and the countless micro-aggressions seems like an impactful first step. We’re far from alone in cultural repression. With transparent female narratives, maybe we’ll start to reset our perspective of beauty and reclaim our bodies.

Embracing body hair still feels new for me. But the more I listen to my true feelings and question my assumptions, the more grounded I feel.

Though I’ve been taking a break from dating and switched to trimming my bikini area, I recently received my first compliment about my choices. I had sex with a kind man who said my lady parts looked especially beautiful. Even though the comment came from a man, hearing that felt heartwarming.

“Nonchalance and awe are the only acceptable reactions,” said one woman, being interviewed by a Healthline writer on her body hair choices. At this point in my life, I can wholeheartedly agree.

I’ve surprised myself by increasing self-respect and self-worth as I let my body hair grow. I feel freer as I continue to develop a healthier relationship with myself. I’m embracing the journey of self-acceptance, including all the moments of anxiety and uncertainty.

Though my body hair decisions will change, I feel ridiculously proud and grateful to be reclaiming my choice.

Thank you for reading my writing! If you want to read more inspiring stories, you can get an all-access Medium membership for $5 per month. If you wouldn’t mind using my referral link, I get a small commission. I appreciate your support and enjoy sharing my creativity with you!