Au naturale is perfectly fine Photo: malloreigh Flickr
Everyone’s nervous their first time. Will it hurt? Will it be embarrassing? How long will it take? You know, the usual suspects. The world is divided into those who “have” and those who “haven’t” and you’re still one of the “haven’t yets”!
My fellow gal-pals assured me that although it always hurts the first time, it can also be gentle.
“It will be fine Jess, just close your eyes, breathe and pretend you’re not lying naked, spread-eagle, with a stranger. Remember the positives! You’ll never have pubes again!” Sound advice from such an authoritative source.
Upon arrival I was sweating furiously, catalysed by my inherited talent for jumping to the worst conclusion, a talent, which my mother assured me, would both keep me out of trouble and out of a stable relationship. It’s going to hurt, I know it! Perfect!
“Hi, Jessica Edward, appointment for 1:30. It’s my first time.”
Poor thing looks up to see me, a dishevelled mess, currently showing little difference to your average junky.
“Sure thing sweetie, come through now.”
She gives me a perfectly manicured toothy smile and directs me to my room. “You’re having the Hollywood, right babe? Get those pants off -undies and all – and I’ll be right in. Oh yeah, and don’t forget to pop on the glasses.”
Shortly after there is a knock on the door and we’re in business. I’m stark naked, with the exception of the required oversized ski-esque goggles, attempting to cover myself up with the tiny towel supplied. A sight for sore eyes; couldn’t help but laugh, looked like I was in some ’90s porn flick. She turns on the IPL device and begins. Within 15 minutes and thousands of laser zaps later I am permanently fuzz-free, erasing all signs of my womanhood. I now meet the sexual desires, or rather expectations, of my male conquests and am in tow with societal perceptions of female beauty.
At least I thought so until Weibo, China’s major social networking site, conducted an event that completely undermined my – along with the majority of my generation’s – understanding of societal norms and furthered the endless debate on “female fuzz”. Set up on July 17, the competition, which appropriately translates to #Girls Not Plucking Armpit Hair Competition, attracted a whopping 28.5 million views, along with thousands of online picture submissions. It called for viewers to submit an “armpit selfie” of their unshaven armpits, aiming to promote a healthy attitude in women regarding societal perceptions of beauty.
“Girls, you should have confidence that you are beautiful just the way you are, shaven or not,” the page advised.
The most astounding element of the competition was the fact so many women were willing to participate when it clearly offered no prize. Although the top 10 best “armpit selfies” were placed on the competition’s main discussion thread on Weibo, the women seemed to be more concerned with rallying to alter social norms. The competition ended on July 22. Women, however, have continued to upload submissions under the still-trending hashtag.
It really was a competition in the loosest sense, with participants’ uploads ranging from those seriously committed with full patches of underarm hair to those cheekily posing with their ponytails tucked under their armpits.
Scrolling through the 10 furry finalists, I found that the majority of participants uploaded a comment along with their picture, detailing their individual support for the concept. @Alicey (@怪力愛麗絲) said, “My armpit hair is my pride. I’ve always believed that armpit hair is sexy, so I have never shaven in my life…Why are guys with body hair seen as ‘manly’, but girls are forced to shave? We need to advocate for change.”
The concept of the competition is “oh so hot right now”, fitting in with the natural beauty movement sweeping the world. Other highly publicised campaigns include the photographer Ben Hopper’s The Natural Beauty Project; The Hairy Legs Club; American Apparel and The Women Against Non-Essential Grooming (WANG). All oppose “the prohibitive and narrow beauty standards imposed on women,” and promote an anti-razor ethos.
Even Cameron Diaz, the type-cast airhead blonde bombshell, defied Hollywood standards with her passionate defence of female pubic hair in the entertainingly titled chapter “In Praise of Pubes” from her recently released health guide The Body Book.
Diaz argues: “I hear that there’s a big fad these days for young women undergoing laser hair removal on all of their lady bits. Personally, I think permanent laser hair removal sounds like a crazy idea. Forever? The idea that vaginas are preferable in a hairless state is a pretty recent phenomenon, and all fads change, people.”
What have I done? Have I signed away my fuzzy friends forever? God! I’m taking advice from Cameron Diaz as well. Today is a bad day.
Yet for every movement against restrictive aesthetic standards, there’s another million campaigns generated from the fashion and beauty industries that continue to regulate the mass understanding of femininity. It’s a reality which is impossible to avoid, as those doe-eyed, stick figure models stalk us through every possible medium, luring us to buy their advertised products in a vain attempt to attain just one of their thousands of perfectly-sculpted attributes. Hey, because we’re worth it, right?
By this point in my research I became troubled by my ingrained instinct to fight the fuzz. Wax it, laser it, shave it – I don’t care. I want it gone. And yes, of course, I want the behind done too!
The competition successfully catalysed an internal conflict, derailing my highly regarded view of myself as an active feminist. Am I a fraud? Where the hell do I fit in within all this? Although wholeheartedly supportive of the overarching notion of the competition, I am ashamed to say I not only would never have the guts to be a practising advocate for female body hair, but also found myself repulsed by many of the picture submissions. Such an unpopular opinion is difficult to admit to oneself, let alone share. And if China, a country notorious for its deep-rooted conservatism and gender inequality, is becoming more open-minded/accepting than me, living in a so-called liberal democracy, how can I seriously consider myself a forward thinker, let alone an academic?
So, can I still be a feminist? I have always thought myself to be one. Strong, independent and currently living at ease as the only female among four pure-bred country boys, when it comes to underarm and pubic hair, I have a no-fuzz policy.
Yet I am not alone in my opinion, with the majority of media coverage of the competition calling for readers to publish their thoughts about the event under the condescendingly titled, “hot or not section”. Most comments simply read “ew”, “gross” or “I hope it doesn’t catch on over here!”
Mortified that my own opinion mirrored such narrow-minded conformist comments, I dug deeper into the individual campaigns, hoping to find moral guidance, that there was no wrong or right, that I was not betraying my feminist comrades.
The “mission statements” of the pro-hair campaigns quickly settled my internal quarrel. Although primarily endorsed by female radicals and those gutsy enough to reject social restrictions, they clearly state the main objective is to promote women’s choice “To shave, or not to shave”. Or as WANG put it, “It’s not just for the unshaven and undeodorised, but for anyone who believes that women shouldn’t be reduced to how they look and that women do not need to be conventionally beautiful to be attractive.”
It is funny that in 2014, an age where acceptance is mandatory and social deviants are abundant, women are only still grasping the concept of choice with beauty. I can’t help but feel like an impostor because although I rally for social change and scoff at my New Zealand government for having just recently legalised same-sex marriage, I know if I saw a young woman in the street with armpit hair I would do a double-take and think “sort it out, hun”.
Maybe I’m just a hybrid, a clash of consumerism and feminism.
Each campaign made me contemplate my own perceptions of modern female beauty, and made me consider whether I made the decision to permanently remove my hair because I wanted to, or because I was led to believe it was my job as a woman to do it.
Job well done – Girls Not Plucking Armpit Hair. And although for now I will continue with my role as social spectator, not yet ready to take the plunge and ditch my razor, I take my hat off to those women who have. You go girls! I might join you… after summer.
