I have been thinking of all the women who throughout last year started embracing their natural beauty since there was no outside pressure to look a certain way anymore –because quarantine–. However, I did not stop waxing. Or stopped removing any of my body hair. I have been questioning myself hard on why do I do it: “I do not like hair, it is dirty”; “I do not need a man’s approval, I will still wax for me and my own pleasure”; “—but it hurts. Why do I still want to do it? — Well, because… it was ingrained in me, making me believe that it was one of the many ways to be beautiful, desired, loved”. In other words, to become the right one.

 

I wrote a poem to my body hair hoping I would break a taboo for me. When I was growing up the beauty icons did not look like my little self at all, in terms of skin and hair color. That visceral hate I feel for my little black bits of hair, was I aware? Would I still feel the same if they were blonde or golden and glittery? I have never dyed my body hair. I just could not stand it, so I radically removed it. How much self-inflicted pain! Was I aware?

 

How many (synthetic) processes do we put our bodies through to be (naturally) beautiful? On the bright side, if I want it for me, I also want it from my partner: hairless. Equality after all.

 

I am aware.

And still hoping I will love wholly, me.

 

 

THE RIGHT ONE

Holy Underwear - Leather, hair - 2021

Photo By: Nima Ashrafi