'Flaws don’t exist. Capitalism exists. But because capitalism exists within most human interactions in society, these flaws have been legitimized.’ Florence Given, ‘Women Don’t Owe You Pretty’
Why is our natural body hair so controversial? Is the shame we associate with it natural, or is it something constructed by society at the expense of our self-confidence? In a world where most women take up the razor weekly as part of their subconscious routine, do we actually ever consider the reasons behind doing so? As mothers drop subtle comments of ‘it’s time you start shaving’ around their teenage daughters, who are already held tightly in the grip of the society they’ve grown up in, the harmful narrative is innocently perpetuated: women must not be seen with body hair.
It all began in 1915, when the CEO of Gillette – King C. Gillette – realised that he wasn’t making enough profit. Or, more accurately, he realised that he could make more profit – two times as much, in fact. And so, in an effort to increase the company’s wealth, Gillette and his co-workers began setting out a plan to try to convince women that the hair on their bodies – which had not previously been considered an issue – was ‘an embarrassing personal problem’. At the time, shaving was considered a purely masculine activity, hence why the campaign didn’t pick up speed until it was cleverly rebranded not as shaving, but as ‘smoothing’. Perhaps the past century would have been significantly different if Gillette and his team had stopped there. Perhaps there would be far fewer women ashamed of their bodies, forcing themselves to remove every last hair they see that is deemed ‘out of place’. But no – Gillette didn’t just want to sell a product, Gillette wanted to shame women into having to buy a product. How? By capitalising on insecurities.
What do you envisage when you picture a ‘woman of refinement’? Is she tall, slim, smooth…white? If that was your natural reaction, don’t be disheartened – Google images agrees with you. Why, when we think of ‘beauty’ and ‘elegance’, do we immediately jump to this Eurocentric, unrealistic beauty standard? I believe it is partly due to Gillette and his Milady Décolleté razor. Gillette’s campaign to sell this new razor – this new beauty standard – sold women not just a product, but an expectation. An expectation of conforming, an expectation of how they should be seen by men. For not only did shaving make your legs smoother, but it made you a ‘woman of refinement’ – if you resisted, you would be ‘embarrassed’ or, critically, ‘unloved’. By extension, how would society view a man who wasn’t dating this ‘woman of refinement’? Parents, wanting their daughters to marry well, would also reinforce this message – ‘no one will love you if you don’t shave’. Shaving therefore, almost immediately, became the key to finding love. Women had to – and to some extent, still do have to - shave in order to even be considered by a man. And, as if by magic, women were trapped – by commercialising and capitalising on women’s body hair, Gillette was able to create not just a razor, but a key to love – a key to social acceptance.
So, by 1964, 98% of women aged 15-44 were routinely shaving, and perhaps by then it had already become so ‘normal’ that the reasons behind doing so were not even questioned by individuals. Nowadays, I would say that the attitude is much the same: women shave either as a force of habit, or because they want to. The latter reason, in my opinion, is one I would like to unpack a bit. In addition to making profit, Gillette’s campaign was also said to have catalysed a shaving culture which was, and in my view still is, an ‘embodiment of our culture’s preoccupation with keeping women in a kind of state of innocence, and denying their visceral selves’ (Ms. Magazine, July 1972. ‘Body Hair: The Last Frontier’). What I would suggest is, by men detailing their ‘type’ of woman as being hairless, smooth and timid, they are not describing a woman – they are describing a child. I am not for a moment suggesting that men (and here I must also specify, this does not apply to all men) are directly wanting their partner to be a child, but merely that they carry certain characteristics usually associated with children – notably, innocence (particularly sexual innocence). Though this preference is largely subconscious, it nevertheless prevails, and not just in shaving. It can be seen from the bride wearing a white dress (traditionally a symbol of innocence) as she is handed over to her husband by her father; it can be seen in the horrifyingly prevalent infliction of FGM (Female Genital Mutilation), a ‘tradition’ in as many as 27 countries in Africa, commonly known to deter women from adultery through the entailment of excruciating pain whenever they have sex. Essentially what I’m trying to say is: this narrative of female innocence enforced by the patriarchy is not in isolation.
There is a plethora of things I could speak about on this topic, ranging from the trend of shaving being weaponised in order to demonise 20th century feminists, to the inherent sexism of capitalism, to the fascinating topic of ‘pretty privilege’, the list goes on. But for now, I would just like to urge you to evaluate your own reasons for shaving (if you do). It goes without saying that being a feminist and shaving are not mutually exclusive – of course you can still shave and support women’s rights, you can still shave and fight against the patriarchy. Most importantly: you can still shave and be an advocate for putting down the razor and letting your body hair grow out – it takes a lot of courage and bravery to go against something you’ve been conditioned to do for the majority of your life, so it’s okay if you’re not quite there yet (and it’s also okay if you never want to be – your body, your choice).
So, why do you shave? Is it because it’s expected of you? Is it because an ideal that you have been conditioned to view as legitimate, when it actually came from a group of men wanting to capitalise on your insecurities? Unpack your relationship with your body hair, and the insecurities you attach to it. At the end of the day, it’s your body: treat it how you want to treat it, not how you want another to view it.