Women’s right to be hairy unrecognized

Ah, summer is here again ““ the time when women start
baring their midriffs, legs and arms, and donning bikinis, tank
tops and shorts. And, for me, it’s also the time when people
start staring at my body, whispering about me behind my back, and
asking me if I’m European.

While it could be for a variety of reasons, I usually attribute
these reactions to the fact that I don’t shave my legs or
underarms. I stopped doing so about four years ago, when I came to
the realization that this custom is completely arbitrary, sexist
and without any logical basis. While it’s not a very
realistic hope, I wish that more women would recognize this and
reject the idea of shaving their bodies. More importantly, though,
I wish society would not make it so difficult for them to stop
doing so in the first place.

Most Americans who can’t imagine a world in which women do
not shave might be surprised to learn that the majority of women in
the rest of the world do not do so. Word has it that the
time-honored American tradition of women shaving began very
recently, in the 20th century. It has been traced back to the 1910s
and ’20s, when, for the first time, armpits and legs were
visible with the advent of the sleeveless dress and high hems.

Apparently, some genius over at Gillette figured that if women
were presented with yet another way in which they could alter their
body in conformity to current fashions, they would flock to it.
And, it seems, they were right. Currently, shaving is a
multi-billion dollar industry that is overwhelmingly supported and
perpetuated by our society.

There are many ways in which this social and cultural
reinforcement of female shaving is carried out. Try to think of the
last female actress, singer or television personality you saw with
hairy legs or underarms. I can count such women on one hand. One of
them is Julia Roberts, who showed up to the premiere of
“Notting Hill” in a sleeveless dress, sporting unshaven
underarms. This event was covered extensively in the media, with
pundits and fashion critics discussing the crowd’s reaction
and debating why Robert’s hadn’t shaved. Media hysteria
of this type ““ in fact, any type of media coverage at all
““ sends the message to women that it is scandalous,
astonishing, bizarre for us not to shave.

In fact, when attempting to do research on unshaven women for
this column, the only Web sites I could find were porno sites that
classify hairy women a freaky fetish, alongside other supposed
curiosities like “shemales” and naked pregnant
women.

Usually, the basis upon which most people argue that unshaven
women deserve this freak status is that men and women are different
and should therefore dress, act and appear differently. Obviously,
men and women are biologically different, but hairiness is not one
of those differences. All women, having passed the age of puberty,
naturally have hair in all the same places as men. (The one and
only difference is that, usually, men have thicker and darker hair
in those places.)

But while the overwhelming majority of men leave their legs and
underarms in this natural state, women shave, laser or burn this
hair off. Women that do not do so are then called unfeminine, or
told that it looks “weird” or “manly.”
Well, guess what? I’m a woman ““ by nature, I have two X
chromosomes, breasts and hips ““ and, by nature, I have hair
on my legs and under my arms. What could be more feminine than
that?

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that altering your
appearance or wearing traditionally feminine clothes is inherently
self-hating or conformist. In fact, I myself wear makeup almost
every day, own 11 dresses and three skirts, and, gasp, pluck my
eyebrows. Those are my choices. Not shaving is also a choice.

Deep down, what I really want is not for all women immediately
to throw down their razors or bottles of Nair (although my heart
leaps at the thought), or for women never to change their bodies or
appearances in any way. Simply, I would like women’s choices
about their bodies and their natural attributes to receive respect
and support.

Not shaving (for women) is not a choice that is respected or
supported, and this has always been readily obvious to me. On days
that I don’t wear makeup, I am never asked why I am not. On
days that I don’t wear a dress, I am never asked why I am
not. When I skip plucking my eyebrows, I do not have people offer
to show me how, because they assume I don’t know. And when I
do not put on my jewelry, my parents do not tell me that I am not
allowed to leave the house until I do. All of these things have
happened to me when it comes to shaving.

My choice not to do so has always been questioned, criticized,
and ridiculed. Even some feminists speak of not shaving
disparagingly, such as when they criticize the
“outdated” image of feminists as bra-burning,
hairy-legged, angry women. It’s funny that people consider a
natural aspect of women’s bodies a passé trend.

I might sound bitter or like an isolationist, but I feel
strongly about this subject because I see the significant
implications it has for women’s lives. I want women to feel
they can make choices about their bodies and their lives based on
reasons other than what they are pressured or expected to do, or
what fits in with the status quo ideals. But, unfortunately, that
seems to be the reasoning behind many women’s choices to
shave. A lot of women have told me, “I don’t think
there’s anything wrong with not shaving, but I just like to
shave,” or, “I just like the way it looks.” Such
statements seem very disingenuous to me, and suggest that most
women comply with this custom without really questioning if it
really is their own will.

Had shaving not been introduced, pushed and mainstreamed by the
fashion and shaving industries, I highly doubt that the
overwhelming majority of women would shave, as they do now. As if,
eventually, one day, it would simply just have occurred to the
female masses that, hey, we really need to waste 10 minutes of our
daily lives, an average of $10 a week on razors, gels, waxes,
and/or creams, and risk cutting and burning our skin, just
because!

I suspect that the reason women say they like how shaven legs
and armpits look is that they’ve never, or very rarely, seen
anything else. And I also suspect that the reason why they
“just like it” is that their act of shaving allows them
to fit comfortably into society’s narrow definition of what a
woman looks like.

I have heard other women be a lot more blunt in regards to how
they feel about shaving. Many have told me that they shave simply
because hairy women are “disgusting” and
“ugly.” As pejorative as such opinions are, I have to
say they amuse me the most.

I wonder if a single one of these women tells her boyfriend how
disgusting and ugly she thinks his hairy legs are, if she asks him
not to wear sleeveless shirts because she thinks it is disgusting
and ugly, or if she tries not to look at him naked because she
finds it disgusting and ugly. I doubt it.

Obviously, what the United States and other Western countries
have succeeded in doing is creating the notion within people that
men’s bodies are fine, acceptable and attractive the way they
are, but that women’s bodies are not ““ they require
maintenance, alteration, and conformity to one specific
standard.

Honestly, it’s sometimes very difficult not to conform to
such standards, even if not shaving seems like a simple thing.
After years of people in my high school gossiping about me because
I didn’t, of having my father force me to do so before he
would let me out of the house, and having (former) friends say they
are embarrassed to go out in public with me when my legs or
underarms are visible, I guess I’ve developed a small complex
about it.

It still makes me nervous when I want to do something as mundane
as raise my hand in class when I’m wearing a tanktop.

What that has taught me is that beauty and behavioral standards
for women in our society are constantly indoctrinated and strictly
enforced, leaving little room for us to act and appear as we really
want. So if I can challenge that fact in any way, I guess
it’s worth feeling a little self-conscious about my body
every time summer rolls around.