When I was a kid I used to crawl into my parents’ bed on Sunday mornings to snuggle and I distinctly remember touching my mom’s legs and noticing how spiky they were in one direction and how smooth in the other. This was my first experience with leg shaving.

I joined the softball team in 7th grade and was, and still am, kind of the awkward kid. Middle school is an awkward time, everybody is at different stages of all the weird hormones and bodily changes. I had never given a thought to shaving my legs or my armpits before but it wasn’t long until I thought I was the hairiest kid I knew. I heard the other girls agonizing and moaning over hair on their legs that I couldn’t see. They were all so ‘gross’ and ‘manly’ and ‘disgusting, I can’t believe I left the house like this.’ About a month into school, being in shorts every day for sports and gym, I shaved. It was a step into self-loathing.

I could never be smooth enough. I coated my legs in vaseline to try to get that magazine ad shine. I considered using harsh chemicals, even though I had friends who had literally burned their skin off trying to remove the hair from their thighs. I was so busy being self conscious about the hair on my body- agonizing over how dark my pubic hair is compared to the hair on my head, the occasional hair between my breasts, the peach fuzz on my face, the little trail up to my belly button, the almost invisible hairs on my toes and knuckles- that I never thought about more important things. Why was my self-worth so focused on my body hair? I had issues with my acne and my weight and my hair and all those vain little things, normal things, but my body hair made me feel the ugliest.

I never realized when I was 12, 14,16 and so on that HAIR IS NORMAL. Some people have more hair than others. This is okay. It wasn’t until I watched the documentary Modify (2005) that I realized that hair removal is body modification . Like tattoos and piercings, shaving is a person’s decision to modify their physical appearance for identity, aesthetic or sexual reasons (of course there are other reasons, but these are the top ones given for tattoos and piercings). It wasn’t until I was happily out of the closet that I realized I felt more comfortable with my body when I wasn’t shaving. I don’t feel like a slave to some idea of beauty that I don’t buy into. Whether you shave or not, being comfortable in your body is fucking important. If you feel like you have to shave in order to be beautiful, you’re missing the point.

Unfortunately, body hair is associated with masculinity and lesbianism. I may be a queer woman, but looking at my leg hair and believing that I am unwashed or unable to take care of my hygiene. There is nothing unhygienic about not shaving. Hair is not inherently dirty. It helps keep my armpits from being too sweaty. It keeps my leg skin soft and strong. It is, evolutionarily, an extra layer of protection for my genitalia. I am thankful for all that my body hair does for me.

Not shaving doesn’t make me butch, just like wearing dresses doesn’t make me femme. I am so much more than queer, so much more than my gender expression. When I am happy with how I look and comfortable in my own skin, I have the confidence to present myself to people as I am. If they can’t deal with my hairiness and the freedom I find with it, screw them. They haven’t had that epiphany yet. I don’t let those people get me down. I know who I am and what I believe in. This is my message to all girls who feel like they have to shave in order to be beautiful or to find love or to get a job: do what feels right. Try being hairy for a couple of weeks. Ask yourself where the negative connotations have come from and ask yourself if you can move beyond society’s narrow view of beauty and accept your body as it is before you take it upon yourself to shave for anyone’s reasons except your own.