Sex, friends and strangers: what to expect when you stop shaving

Contrary to what you've been told, the world doesn't end when a woman stops shaving.

In 2013, deciding to keep your body hair feels like a small revolution, a political rebellion: it sends a message, and is the equivalent of walking around with a placard saying “I’m a scary feminist, and almost certainly left-wing”. Not that I mind: I personally am both of these things, but had been told from the beginning of puberty that I had to remove everything apart from a vague triangle between my thighs, or face never getting laid and never having friends. In fact, it took me several months to get my head round the idea of throwing away my razor for a few weeks, and see where it'd get me. I am, however, very happy I did, and lived to tell the tale. If you're ever considering to stop shaving (and you should), here's what to expect:

I guess the most telling incident I had was, when walking around an estate in East London, a man walking behind me shouted that I had nice legs, “love”. I ignored him, as one does, but he felt the need to add “you should probably shave them though”. I instantly got angry, but as I was about to turn around and respond something not publishable here, he concluded “Yeah, actually I don’t mind”. I was so gobsmacked by his honesty (and his obvious tendency to just think out loud) that I simply walked off without saying anything. And if you ever stop shaving, this is exactly the sort of reaction you’ll come to expect from random people: surprise, possibly disgust, then realisation that it really is nothing. Heartening.

Sadly, friends can be a bit harder to deal with: I’ve heard absolutely everything on my apparently terrifying armpits – from feminist fistbumps to outright “I don’t want to be seen in public with you” – but the funniest probably is the hypocritical enthusiasm. It’s an easy one to notice: just take your jumper off, and the person will start with a shocked “Oh!”, feel guilty about said exclamation, and proceed to spend about fifteen minutes telling you “Yes! No ! Really! It’s great! I wish I could do that! In fact, YOU’RE great!”, when the only thing in their minds clearly is “ew”. You might also get an “ironic” razor for your birthday, or get asked “jokingly” if you’re really going swimming like that. You’ll want to tell them that it’s fine, they can be honest and stop pretending and that you’re not going to cry if you don’t feel validated by every single person you know, but chances are you’ll just smile politely and move on.

Now we’ve covered most social situations, let’s get down to more serious business: sex. The first time I got into bed with someone after ditching the wax, I panicked. I clearly remember thinking “Jesus, I’m going to take off my tights, he’s going to scream, jump off the bed, call his mum and start crying”. Except, well, he didn’t: in fact, I’m not even sure he noticed – and if he did, he didn’t mention it. Nor did any of the lovers that followed. When I quizzed a male friend on the subject, he told me that he was normally too happy to have someone getting naked in his bed that he sincerely could not care less whether she had some hair on her body or not. These wise words were echoed by nearly all the men I asked, which, when thinking about it, hardly is that surprising. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never brought someone back to mine, only to scream in surprise and run away because their chest was a lot hairier than I was expecting it to be. In fact, the conversation I seem to be having practically every time with women is whether men get terrified to go down on you. Newsflash: it doesn’t even really change anything – I’ve slept with women before, you can take my word for it. And pardon me for being crude, but if someone is disgusted by the idea of getting down on a woman who doesn’t wax, he probably doesn’t lick the right bits – all in all, it merely is a matter of personal taste (ha, ha).

On a more serious note, my point here is that throwing away your razor really isn’t, or at least shouldn’t be a big deal. Standing naked in front of a mirror and lifting my arms up felt weird at first: I felt a lot less attractive, and nearly ashamed of my body. Then I got used to it, and started wishing that other women would do the same.

In fact, I'd just like it if it could just become something a bit more normal. Just like wearing heels, dresses, or make up, shaving should become more of a personal choice again: something you do because you feel like it, not because the thought of having three hair on the side of your bikini would fill you with shame or uneasiness. Though sadly, I should probably warn you beforehand: your legs will not feel any warmer during the winter.


[Photo: Hulton Archive/Getty Images]

Marie le Conte is a freelance journalist.

Photo: Getty Images
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I'll vote against bombing Isis - but my conscience is far from clear

Chi Onwurah lays out why she'll be voting against British airstrikes in Syria.

I have spent much of the weekend considering how I will vote on the question of whether the UK should extend airstrikes against Daesh/Isis from Iraq to Syria, seeking out and weighing the evidence and the risks.

My constituents have written, emailed, tweeted, facebooked or stopped me in the street to share their thoughts. Most recognised what a difficult and complex decision it is. When I was selected to be the Labour candidate for Newcastle Central I was asked what I thought would be the hardest part of being an MP.

I said it would be this.

I am not a pacifist, I believe our country is worth defending and our values worth fighting for. But the decision to send British Armed Forces into action is, rightly, a heavy responsibility.

For me it comes down to two key questions. The security of British citizens, and the avoidance of civilian casualties. These are separate operational and moral questions but they are linked in that it is civilian casualties which help fuel the Daesh ideology that we cannot respect and value the lives of those who do not believe as we do. There is also the important question of solidarity with the French in the wake of their grievous and devastating loss; I shall come to that later.

I listened very carefully to the Prime Minister as he set out the case for airstrikes on Thursday and I share his view that Daesh represents a real threat to UK citizens. However he did not convince me that UK airstrikes at this time would materially reduce that threat. The Prime Minister was clear that Daesh cannot be defeated from the air. The situation in Syria is complex and factionalised, with many state and non-state actors who may be enemies of our enemy and yet not our friend. The Prime Minister claimed there were 70,000 ground troops in the moderate Free Syrian Army but many experts dispute that number and the evidence does not convince me that they are in a position to lead an effective ground campaign. Bombs alone will not prevent Daesh obtaining money, arms and more recruits or launching attacks on the UK. The Prime Minister did not set out how we would do that, his was not a plan for security and peace in Syria with airstrikes a necessary support to it, but a plan to bomb Syria, with peace and security cited in support of it. That is not good enough for me.

Daesh are using civilian population as human shields. Syrians in exile speak of the impossibility of targeting the terrorists without hitting innocent bystanders. I fear that bombing Raqqa to eliminate Daesh may be like bombing Gaza to eliminate Hamas – hugely costly in terms of the civilian population and ultimately ineffectual.

Yet the evil that Daesh perpetrate demands a response. President Hollande has called on us to join with French forces. I lived in Paris for three years, I spent time in just about every location that was attacked two weeks ago, I have many friends living in Paris now, I believe the French are our friends and allies and we should stand and act in solidarity with them, and all those who have suffered in Mali, Kenya, Nigeria, Lebanon, Tunisia and around the world.

But there are other ways to act as well as airstrikes. Britain is the only G7 country to meet its international development commitments, we are already one of the biggest humanitarian contributors to stemming the Syrian crisis, we can do more not only in terms of supporting refugees but helping those still in Syria, whether living in fear of Daesh or Assad. We can show the world that our response is to build rather than bomb. The Prime Minister argues that without taking part in the bombing we will not have a place at the table for the reconstruction. I would think our allies would be reluctant to overlook our financial commitment.

We can also do more to cut off Daesh funding, targeting their oil wells, their revenues, their customers and their suppliers. This may not be as immediately satisfying as bombing the terrorists but it is a more effective means of strangling them.

The vast majority of the constituents who contacted me were against airstrikes. I agree with them for the reasons I set out above. I should say that I have had no experience of bullying or attempts at intimidation in reaching this decision, Newcastle Central is too friendly, frank, comradely and Geordie a constituency for that. But some have suggested that I should vote against airstrikes to ensure a “clear conscience” ’. This is not the case. There will be more killings and innocent deaths whether there are UK airstrikes or not, and we will all bear a portion of responsibility for them.

A version of this article was originally sent to Chi Onwurah's constituents, and can be read here