5 Women Speak Of Their Empowering Journey with Body Hair

Cosmo India spoke to five women who embrace their body hair with pride. These are their stories...

11 September, 2020

5 Women Speak Of Their Empowering Journey with Body Hair

Cosmo India spoke to five women who embrace their body hair with pride. These are their stories...

“To me, beauty is confidence. It is accepting yourself and loving yourself in totality, with all your flaws. Body hair has always been a taboo. The media, society, and people around me all perpetuated the same belief—that women shouldn’t have body hair. I was made to feel like it was almost dirty, there was so much shame around it. When I was a kid, I was even called ‘Chewbacca’ by classmates...because of my body hair. It made me internalise the shame, and affected my self-esteem. It was a given that women would use harsh chemicals and razors to remove our hair, with no real logic behind it, really. So when I first started embracing my body hair, it was also because of the damage that removing it was causing to my skin. I got terrible rashes in my armpits, and I thought, ‘Why am I doing this to myself?’. And I had never really chosen to shave, I’d just do it because I was told to. As a curvy, brown-skinned, hairy woman, being okay with my body hair is just a part of self-love for me—I want to accept my body the way it naturally is, with my stretch marks, rolls, body hair et al. But it’s also about reclaiming control over my body and being able to choose what I want to do with it. And it is also a part of decolonising beauty standards and unlearning destructive attitudes towards my body, that have been imposed by white supremacists and patriarchy.”

11) Henna“To me, beauty is confidence. It is accepting yourself and loving yourself in totality, with all your flaws. Body hair has always been a taboo. The media, society, and people around me all perpetuated the same belief—that women shouldn’t have body hair. I was made to feel like it was almost dirty, there was so much shame around it. When I was a kid, I was even called ‘Chewbacca’ by classmates...because of my body hair. It made me internalise the shame, and affected my self-esteem. It was a given that women would use harsh chemicals and razors to remove our hair, with no real logic behind it, really. So when I first started embracing my body hair, it was also because of the damage that removing it was causing to my skin. I got terrible rashes in my armpits, and I thought, ‘Why am I doing this to myself?’. And I had never really chosen to shave, I’d just do it because I was told to. As a curvy, brown-skinned, hairy woman, being okay with my body hair is just a part of self-love for me—I want to accept my body the way it naturally is, with my stretch marks, rolls, body hair et al. But it’s also about reclaiming control over my body and being able to choose what I want to do with it. And it is also a part of decolonising beauty standards and unlearning destructive attitudes towards my body, that have been imposed by white supremacists and patriarchy.”

“As a child, it was ingrained in me that I should have smooth, flawless skin. But when I went to college, my lifestyle and perspective completely changed. I never planned on breaking any stereotypes; I simply couldn’t find the time to wax or maintain any beauty standards. And my university had a very body-positive environment, so I never felt odd with body hair. I’m a performing arts student, and, in this avenue, I’ve found the freedom to be experimental. I make myself face a challenge until I’m okay being who I am. Jazz, for example, typically has sexy characters. But the hair on my upper lip used to make me feel conscious. So I decided to not remove it, and, instead, be comfortable with it...or I’d never truly do justice to the performance. With time, it became normal. What you do with your hair—remove it or keep it—is your own choice.”

22) Drishti“As a child, it was ingrained in me that I should have smooth, flawless skin. But when I went to college, my lifestyle and perspective completely changed. I never planned on breaking any stereotypes; I simply couldn’t find the time to wax or maintain any beauty standards. And my university had a very body-positive environment, so I never felt odd with body hair. I’m a performing arts student, and, in this avenue, I’ve found the freedom to be experimental. I make myself face a challenge until I’m okay being who I am. Jazz, for example, typically has sexy characters. But the hair on my upper lip used to make me feel conscious. So I decided to not remove it, and, instead, be comfortable with it...or I’d never truly do justice to the performance. With time, it became normal. What you do with your hair—remove it or keep it—is your own choice.”

“Growing up, ‘beauty’ around me was always based on looks. And being beautiful in that conventional sense meant that you had more power—people would be nicer to you and listen to what you have to say. Now, I know the concept of beauty is very complex, and I’m still navigating my way around it. Sometimes, even within body-positivity dialogues, I feel a pressure to ‘pass’ a certain beauty standard. Also, why do I to ‘look’ beautiful? Shouldn’t I ‘feel’ beautiful? Our perception needs a radical re-framing. I was conditioned into thinking that body hair wasn’t normal for women. It was treated as unhygienic, offensive, unattractive. I’ve heard girls being referred to as ‘werewolves’ for having ‘excessive’ facial hair. When I was in college, the Januhairy campaign, in which women let their body hair grow, totally changed my outlook. It was so empowering to see women coming together in solidarity. I hope that we can support one another in this battle to gain autonomy over ourselves and our bodies.”

33) Sonia Thakur Desai“Growing up, ‘beauty’ around me was always based on looks. And being beautiful in that conventional sense meant that you had more power—people would be nicer to you and listen to what you have to say. Now, I know the concept of beauty is very complex, and I’m still navigating my way around it. Sometimes, even within body-positivity dialogues, I feel a pressure to ‘pass’ a certain beauty standard. Also, why do I to ‘look’ beautiful? Shouldn’t I ‘feel’ beautiful? Our perception needs a radical re-framing. I was conditioned into thinking that body hair wasn’t normal for women. It was treated as unhygienic, offensive, unattractive. I’ve heard girls being referred to as ‘werewolves’ for having ‘excessive’ facial hair. When I was in college, the Januhairy campaign, in which women let their body hair grow, totally changed my outlook. It was so empowering to see women coming together in solidarity. I hope that we can support one another in this battle to gain autonomy over ourselves and our bodies.”

“I’ve photographed all kinds of women in the last few months for my series, Brown Girl Gazing—women with long hair, round faces, different heights, with and without body hair. Even though we are told that our bodies define our beauty, I have actually come to find that true beauty is the way we inhabit our bodies and make them our own. It is not something that can be broken down into one particular feature or type of look. The debate around body hair is such a complicated one. On the one hand, it is something that is seen as deeply connected to privilege: in a country, with such high levels of gender-based violence and injustice, people often consider body hair to be a very privileged problem. While it is a problem that definitely comes with a certain degree of privilege, I also believe that body hair on any woman is looked at as a taboo. It is often talked about as a dirty secret, something that all women share but still feel immense stigma talking about. Hair is a natural part of our bodies, and the systemic pressure that has been put on women for decades to look flawless and smooth all the time is intrinsically linked with the beauty industry and capitalism.”

44) Anushka“I’ve photographed all kinds of women in the last few months for my series, Brown Girl Gazing—women with long hair, round faces, different heights, with and without body hair. Even though we are told that our bodies define our beauty, I have actually come to find that true beauty is the way we inhabit our bodies and make them our own. It is not something that can be broken down into one particular feature or type of look. The debate around body hair is such a complicated one. On the one hand, it is something that is seen as deeply connected to privilege: in a country, with such high levels of gender-based violence and injustice, people often consider body hair to be a very privileged problem. While it is a problem that definitely comes with a certain degree of privilege, I also believe that body hair on any woman is looked at as a taboo. It is often talked about as a dirty secret, something that all women share but still feel immense stigma talking about. Hair is a natural part of our bodies, and the systemic pressure that has been put on women for decades to look flawless and smooth all the time is intrinsically linked with the beauty industry and capitalism.”

“Being a dark-skinned Tamil woman in the UK, I grew up being told that light-skinned, skinny, hairless women were what beauty equalled, and that’s how we should all aspire to look. I was told that body hair was gross, disgusting, and unfeminine, by both men and women. But this policing of women’s bodies is just another way to put us in a box and control us. I had to unlearn, and decolonise my mindset. When I was in school, I remember I was playing netball once and my hands went up in the air. The girls started laughing at my hairy armpits. I went home ashamed, and shaved them...I must have been 10 or 11. I actually came to be more accepting of and comfortable with my body hair only about three years ago. It began with me questioning my own feelings towards body hair and why I felt ashamed about it. Anytime you choose to embrace something that has been rejected by society, it’s a rebellion. Being a woman of colour, I know my body is racialised and made political, and I can’t escape this...so why not use it as a platform to fight against problematic ideologies? Your beauty is your own, you don’t owe it to anyone, only yourself.”

55) Sheerah Ravindren“Being a dark-skinned Tamil woman in the UK, I grew up being told that light-skinned, skinny, hairless women were what beauty equalled, and that’s how we should all aspire to look. I was told that body hair was gross, disgusting, and unfeminine, by both men and women. But this policing of women’s bodies is just another way to put us in a box and control us. I had to unlearn, and decolonise my mindset. When I was in school, I remember I was playing netball once and my hands went up in the air. The girls started laughing at my hairy armpits. I went home ashamed, and shaved them...I must have been 10 or 11. I actually came to be more accepting of and comfortable with my body hair only about three years ago. It began with me questioning my own feelings towards body hair and why I felt ashamed about it. Anytime you choose to embrace something that has been rejected by society, it’s a rebellion. Being a woman of colour, I know my body is racialised and made political, and I can’t escape this...so why not use it as a platform to fight against problematic ideologies? Your beauty is your own, you don’t owe it to anyone, only yourself.”

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