Hello! I am a mammal!

I have never particularly enjoyed shaving. Growing up, its importance was never stressed. In fact, my mom would tell me she was happy it was winter because it meant she didn’t have to shave — the impression I got was that she didn’t really like to do it, herself. When I was a preteen, she bought me razors and shaving gel, but didn’t pressure me to use them, and shaving didn’t seem to be a rite of passage among my peers, the way buying a bra was. I was in no rush to do it myself. 

One of the first few times I tried shaving, I got cut. I shaved a two-inch strip of skin off my shin, which had to be pulled out of my razor, and blood was everywhere. I now know that’s because the water from the shower diluted it and made it look like more, but to my twelve-year old mind, an unexpectedly brutal scene was unfolding in my shower. I think it was a bit traumatizing.

I never felt like there was a reason for me to shave regularly. The hair on my legs is very fine and light, and I usually adorn my legs with fun patterned tights and leggings anyway. I don’t like the way shorn legs feel against surfaces like bedsheets and clothing — it reminds me of the uncomfortable hypersensitivity I’d feel on the roof of my mouth when I took my retainer out. Sensory overload.
When I shave my underarms, the stubble pokes me and I get itchy. I know that if I keep shaving, I will temporarily fix the problem, but it will keep happening. Instead, I can’t wait for the hair to grow back out so I can have soft, silky fuzz under my arms — not a freakin’ cactus.

I feel that whatever our personal preference may be, our society really wants women to shave. They say we’re dirty and stinky if we don’t, trying to prey on our fears that femininity means being neither of those things.  They say we won’t be able to attract a partner — the old joke being that once a woman is married, she is secure enough to “let herself go”, which includes ceasing to shave. They say it’s not natural for a woman to have body hair, which I think is hilarious because we are mammals, and it literally grows out of our skin on its own without our intervention, just as naturally as can be.
I was astonished to learn that in our culture, the reason we shave is because in the early 20th century, women’s fashions became more revealing, and marketers realized they could make more money by selling women products to remove hair from the areas that the newest styles showed. They released advertisements to make women feel like their body hair was bad, but could be fixed with their shaving wares.  The root of the shaving norm is in capitalism. When I think about that, it makes me feel used and manipulated. Knowing the origin of this norm also helps me to subvert it. Not listening to the messages that my hair is wrong becomes a rebellious act.

And I like to rebel.
But mostly, I love my soft, fluffy fuzz.