True Story: I Have Hair And I Don't Care!

By Chava Kuchar

I’ve wanted to write this for a while, but never sat down to do it and then one of Billie’s advertisements came across my feed, and I was like, woman, its time.

This is about hair, but not the hair you are thinking of. And I am not sure if it’s important, but for the record, I am a head-wrapping woman, and thankfully, I am very comfortable with the practice and have never suffered from this commitment in any serious way.

This article is about body hair, so scroll away if this deters you in any way because I am not interested in your disgust, dismay or any of your suggested solutions. You could, also, just stay awhile, hear what I have to say, be uncomfortable for five minutes and think about it.

So, body hair. I have a lot of it. Which, for a fair-skinned brunette, surprises people, but not as much as the fact that that I do little with or about it. In fact, I have more hair than all 3 of my brothers, probably only on par with my very hairy father. However, because men are socially and culturally permitted to have hair, it's not really an issue for them.

I wax my legs and underarms (usually, if I have time, with 3 kids, work, and a modest uniform it's not a personal priority) because I feel more comfortable with resistant free and clean legs and pits. On the other hand, I leave my arms as hairy as G-d made them. And as I said before, it surprises people. And yes, people explicitly comment, stare, and offer solutions like it was unintentional, or that I must be ignorant to have left them in their natural state. BUT, to be clear, it was very INTENTIONAL. In fact, it has been a 35 year-long celebration of this body I was born in. 

My personal awareness of body hair was actually stoked by mother (who was a similarly fair-skinned, dark-haired woman, but alternatively to me, happened to be largely hairless). During my childhood, she would look through catalogues and magazines with me and make a point of identifying beautiful women who's arm or facial hair was visible. I didn't realize her intentions then, but this past-time of ours helped me, at a very young age, recognize that women came in all shapes and sizes.  

I am certain it was becuse my mother had Multiple Sclerosis, a deteriorating disease of the nervous system, that she did this. She knew that it was unlikely she would survive my childhood, let alone my adolescence and it was for this reason that she made a point of teaching me as much as she could before she went. Now, when I look back and see photos of my 6-year-old self with evidently hairy legs, I understand why she felt that she needed to coach me through it. As an adult, my mother knew that I would grow up to have some difficulty with my above average body hair and like any mother, she didn't want me to struggle. And it worked- because even in her absence, I developed a hardened exterior to the beauty standards foisted upon the self-conscious teenage girl. I figured that I didn't look anything like those girls in the magazine, so why would I even try!? Instead, I worked with what I had; a really cool personality, fantastic hair and enduring love of creativity in fashion and self-expression. It was freeing. It helped me survive what was for many, an anxiety-ridden teenage experience. And somewhere along the way, I learnt not to take offence to the ongoing stares, comments and suggestions- I understood that this was a ‘them’ issue, not a ‘me’ issue.

Fast forward about a decade and a half, and I am now a mother of 3 (and ½) boys, with whom I work very hard to foster an understanding of diversity amongst people, bodies, gender, religion and culture. Every day, it's an active decision to pluck my facial hair in front of them instead of in quiet privacy. Or, let them stroke and comment about the texture of my arm hair or my ever-increasing snail trail. Or, if I choose to complement their beautiful baby fluff leg hair that will indefinitely result in my beast level leg hair in adulthood because they need to understand this is how we were born. That hair is natural and the presence of hair is more 'normal' than what minimal hair they actually see around. 

To be clear, this is not just a message for the impressionable and developing youth, we ALL need to understand that if a person presents without hair that it is (most often) a choice and it likely took work to achieve- it doesn't just happen like that. In fact, for most, it's not actually how we are born. To pretend like it is, or, that it was effortless, makes you as much a part of the problem by perpetuating the beauty myths and standards and consolidating social pressures that are quite frankly burdening women everywhere. Not to mention the setting and peddling of the most unsettling expectations for the next generation. Yes! You! If you do these things, you are passively compliant in the white, patriarchal body politics that make something as natural as hair taboo or contentious.

So I guess, this is just another friendly reminder to be real, honest, kind to yourself and work to understand and accept that our bodies are not standardized. And similarly, our ideals of beauty and health should equally not be standardized.

You do you, I’ll do me, and let’s try to let the next person do them.