In the seventh grade, when leg hair began blooming across my legs, my mom handed me a razor. She gave me the choice; if I wanted to, I could shave.

That weekend, I went to a family friend’s lakehouse. Glammed out in my Amazon tankini, I rocked my all-natural legs. The other kids my age focused their attention on my legs with weird looks, like they caught a glimpse of Sasquatch. They never said anything explicitly about it, but I quickly caught on to their judgmental stares.

After that, for the next five years, I became obsessed with shaving.

It all started with my shins. 

Then, to have clean-shaven legs, I shaved my thighs. But whenever I wore tank tops, I saw people stare at my armpit hair, so that hair had to go too. I began noticing hair everywhere: on my arms, stomach, and even micro hairs on my face. Slowly but surely, they all became a part of the weekly shower hair extermination. 

It was all my choice; I chose to shave every week. But I also didn’t have the strength to stop.

Whenever I had an off day, when I couldn’t find the time to exfoliate my hairy skin, I felt ashamed. I would wear sweatpants in 80 degree weather or keep my arms glued to my sides, whatever it took to minimize armpit exposure. I thought if people saw, they would think of me as dirty or even unfeminine.

Why is hair on my body, less than a centimeter long, such a big deal that it needs to be shaved so routinely?

This routine doesn’t only apply to me. Almost 89 percent of South students shave, and 39 percent consider body hair a major insecurity, according to an non-scientific survey of 305 students conducted by The Oracle. 

Shaving is a relatively simple task that requires weekly maintenance. It requires planning and checking the weather app to see if I will wear shorts or checking the calendar to see if I need to attend a formal event. It’s a task that requires precision, if not, there’s the risk of cuts, ingrown hairs, and skin irritation.

Why do I shave every week if it’s so tedious?

Validation.

Validation from my peers. Validation from adults. Validation from myself and the internal societal expectations I set for myself. Shaving allows me to fit in instead of standing off to the side with a face hot with shame. 

But that isn’t right.

Body hair isn’t gross. It happens to nearly everyone, and there’s no reason for it to be associated with shame. I mean, if to fit in as a woman we must be “clean-shaven”, what does that say about our bodily autonomy?

We should be able to make whatever choice we want. To shave, to not shave, I don’t care. But think about why you shave. 

If you shave for yourself and like how it looks, that is amazing. But if you realize that you are choosing because of external pressure, you aren’t being given a choice.

Everyone is born with a body which they are entitled to complete control over. Even with cosmetic choices like shaving, people are entitled to do whatever they want with their bodies, and no one should tell them otherwise.

We all need to realize that whether people prefer to shave or not does not matter, and our lives should not still be interwoven with beauty stereotypes and middle school level judgements.