No shave November?
More like no-shave-ever
My legs are like I like my men -
Super freaking hairy.
Venus does not embrace these thighs,
But I feel the need to emphasize the fact
That I am European.
Covered in my Italian heritage from head to toe.
My hair, like my soul,
Is coarse - stubborn.
Refusing to be cut down,
Or hidden away.
See, 5 minutes after blade hits skin,
My hair begins
To break the surface, to rise above
Like little soldiers fighting against the social standard that caused me to shave them in the first place.
My hair? Speak feminist politics,
Speaks against the ridiculously unattainable standard of beauty I am help up to each day.
But who says I need to shaved to be smooth?
To be hairless to get dudes?
Because quite frankly if you can’t accept me for my stubble, my fuzzy 100% all natural,
Then the only thing that needs to be cut out of my life is you
And your unrealistic expectations,
But I refuse to be part of the equation
That calculates femininity based on such rigid definitions
And gives up requirements for being women.
I am so tired of believing that I shouldn’t be touched because I’m not touched up enough;
Tired of spending over 4 hours on my appearance for you,
When I could spend it focusing on things that actually matter
Like gender equality, gay rights, or the economy,
And if you don’t like what I’m doing,
Then you’re as disposable as the razors that I won’t be using.
So go ahead - consider me the discontinuity on your sick twisted graph,
the Joan of Ark of bathroom hygiene,
Because I am done shaving myself back layer by layer for you.
The roots that I’ve kept hidden underneath are going to grow through.
So come my hairless brethren!
Let us partake in the hairy salvation!
We will braid ropes from our armpits
to swing to higher levels of understanding in social situations!
And we will learn that every time someone tells us "we, like, really need to shave"
that is only one letter away from the word shame.