The curation of armpit, leg, and pubic hair, as well as arm, upper lip, and eyebrow fuzz for some bodies, is a feminine beauty norm, and it isn’t exclusive to the West. Wealthy Late-Period Egyptians employed personal body shavers to get rid of everything except their eyelashes and brows. In ancient Islamic cultures, ritual head-to-toe hair removal was a religiously motivated custom for married women; men were also directed to keep their mustaches trimmed and pit thickets at bay.
As for gals, our culture’s female body-hair hang-ups can be blamed on doctors and business dudes. First, the American Dermatological Society invented hypertrichosis, or excess body hair, as a lady addiction in the 1870s. Then in the 1910s, sleeveless dresses came into vogue, and magazines like Harper’s Bazaar began advertising depilatory powders —including one called Ashes of Roses! - to remove any “objectionable” hair. In 1915, Gillette capitalised on pit hair panic and debuted the Milady Decollette. Selling the first blade designed for women required careful word choice, though. “Shaving” sounded too body baggage 97 masculine, so they opted for “smoothing.” Also, “underarm” was obviously too risqué because of its boob proximity, so it couldn’t appear in ad copy.
Circa World War II, nylon went to the war effort, which meant bare legs were a common sight. Presto! Cactus legs became pegged as unsightly. And as the new millennium approached, the bare-down-there beauty norm crept up our thighs and camped out on our vulvas like an ingrown hair. Trendsetting porn led the way in the 1980s, and it wasn’t long before pubes had practically disappeared from Playboy centerfolds.
But porn didn’t invent the look. Cleanliness culture did. The idea that groomed pubes are more hygienic has persisted across ages and cultures. For roughly two hundred years leading up to the nineteenth century, Turkish women would frequent special rooms in bathhouses designated solely for down-there depilation. Today in the US, a nationally representative study from 2016 found an “overwhelming majority” of the many women of all ages who groom their pubic hair do so because they think it’s more hygienic. It’s a total myth, though. Mid-grooming nicks and tears can increase risk of infection. The researchers also talked to gynecologists mystified at how many patients regularly apologise if their pubic hair is untrimmed when they’re in stirrups, or intentionally tidy up before appointments.
Our unladylike take? There’s no right or wrong way to maintain your hair anywhere. Different folks are comfortable with different razor strokes, and whether that means a smooth-all-over approach or luxurious rainbow-dyed pit hair, you do you. As long as it really is for you, that is. One thing to consider about the Perennial Pubes Issue is this: If you suspect or know that someone won’t wanna get intimate with you because of the presence of pubic hair, beware. Don’t let someone else’s follicular hang-ups send you sprinting for the wax just to please them.
If you’re ever feeling unsure, remember a badass named Harnaam Kaur. Endocrine disruption caused by polycystic ovarian syndrome
means that this British activist grows a thick, lustrous beard, and after agonizing teen years marked by endless depilating and being bullied nonetheless, Kaur nally got sick of taming it. Now, she joyfully rocks her facial hair and has become an international role model - and sometimes fashion model - for body positivity.
