Women are taught that to be beautiful, they must shave. There shouldn’t be any unsightly hair visible. The only hair on a woman’s body should be her eyelashes, eyebrows, and the hair on her head. She should be baby-bottom-smooth everywhere else. I used to believe that.
Before summer 2017 even started, I already resented the mere thought of shaving. I knew it would be hot and I would want to wear shorts and tank tops. Shaving takes entirely too much time, effort, and money I didn’t want to spend.
I could always just wear pants and short-sleeve shirts, but I would get a lot of “You make me hot just by looking at you” or “Why don’t you wear something lighter?” comments. Even without it being said, I could tell I’m seen as a prude for wearing clothes that cover a decent amount of skin.
I decided that summer I was tired of meeting gender norms. I was always tired of them, but I decided to start with not shaving in resistance to womanly norms laid out for me. I don’t like it, so I won’t do it. I like wearing skirts sometimes, so I will wear a skirt even if it means showing off my hairy legs. It’s hot, so I’ll wear a tank top even if my hairy pits will be seen.
Rebellion is the wrong word for it though. If I meet gender norms, then so be it. If I don’t, then so be it. I just decided not to actively pursue either side. I like wearing feminine clothing while sitting masculine. I don’t like cooking or folding clothes, and I find romantic movies enjoyable. These things just make me who I am.