I remember biking to the Korean nail salon every three weeks in high school so that a woman could sear off my film of mustache and thick eyebrows, chastising me if I waited too long. “So bad, so bad.” About as sexually active as a cloistered nun, I didn’t think to wax my legs or bikini area, letting the hair there grow wild and free, but I had been bullied before about my facial hair in gym class by some boys and wasn’t going to take the risk. Their teasing made me feel bestial. I didn’t feel like a normal human, let alone a normal woman.

Soon my friends and I all went to liberal colleges, where we read Simone de Beauvoir and plastered posters of Frida Kahlo to our dorm walls, her unibrow and facial mustache a symbol for her hairy resistance of the white patriarchy. My friends reminded me that I had “resisted” in high school by not waxing my legs. But if my leg hair was a statement, it was only a statement of my laziness.

I like the feeling of a smooth, glistening, clean, leg like I like the smell of fresh cut grass after it rains. I like the showering shaving ritual, the lathering of foamy creams, the tropical gels smelling of pineapples and coconuts as though I am surfing on the shores of Bali, the smooth line of the razor clearing through foam like the contrail of a plane in the sky. I’ve even ventured further than the legs, once opting for a full bikini wax. Afterwards, I cried. Partly because I had never experienced such pain. Partly because I felt like I was 10 years old again and condoning child pornography.

Amid the plethora of options, I’ve always been somewhat confused about how to maintain my nether regions: landing strip, trim, Brazilian, Hollywood? Succumbing to the chaos of hair maintenance entropy, I usually opt to do nothing. Until I inevitably freak out, every few months, certain that eliminating my pubic hair will eliminate all my other stresses and problems, and I do something entirely random: trim the tips, shave the lips, bulldoze the sides.

What I will do next? Your guess is as good as mine. The bare minimum of acceptability is the core philosophy of my personal hygiene regime. I don’t strive for the Beyoncé of labia; any backup dancer labia will do. I just want the labia of the average woman, but unfortunately the average woman so rarely displays her labia. Only in the seedy realms of porn do women display their labia with great pride and frequency, and these labia are almost always hairless, smooth, and glistening, much like a child or a Barbie.

Now there are claims that pubic hair is fashionable again in porn, but if you’re thinking that the resurgence of hair is a stepping stone for feminism, think again.

For a quick recap: way back in the crude, early forms of 1970s porn, women still had full bushes. Riding the trains of sexual liberation, feminism, and an organic aesthetic, women chose to let their pubic hair grow free. Meanwhile, pimple-faced boys were sneaking quick glances of their fathers’ garage Playboys as rites of passage. These boys weren’t streaming porn on their iPhones while brushing their teeth, watching various orifices getting jammed while making breakfast, seeing seminal fluid sprayed on to faces at the dentist’s office, watching women get gang banged while on the bus to school.

More than 4 million videos were uploaded to Pornhub.com in 2017. The website notes that’s “more videos than the number of people who visit the Great Wall of China each year.” But back in the primitive 1970s, porn was an actual taboo. Men were not yet brainwashed by porn and women were not yet influenced by the porn-warped male gaze. Women chose how to style their vaginas and then porn captured these women. Porn depicted fashion rather than dictating fashion.

I never want to shame other women, but I want women to interrogate the idea that none of these choices are entirely ours

Yet by the 1990s, everything had changed. Perhaps because hairless genitals allowed the camera to capture more graphic shots, perhaps because coated vulvas were associated with old, burly, 1970s Deadhead feminist aunts, rather than sexy, kinky, American Pie, all-American girls, perhaps because the male lizard brain may associate hairless vaginas with fertility – no one can know for certain the cause. We only know that much like woolly mammoths, woolly labia were once roaming the reels of porn, and then one day they were extinct.

In the same way that porn caused anal sex, a once rare fetish, to become a routine practice in the sex lives of many Americans in only a few decades, porn caused pubic hair removal to become a routine practice among young women. In 2017, only 6% of women left their pubic hair completely natural, with 30% of men admitting that pubic hair can be a relationship deal-breaker, according to this survey. One 2011 study found that nearly 60% of American women between 18 and 24 sported completely hairless genitals.

Pubic hair removal is associated with an increased self-esteem and overall improved emotional health. One study of 2,453 adult women found that pubic hair removal was associated with more positive scores on the Female Genital Self-Image Scale (FGSIS) and also more positive female sexual function as measured by the Female Sexual Function Index (FSFI). Despite the fact that research shows that 60% of women have had at least one health complication due to pubic hair removal, such as epidermal abrasion, skin irritation, or increased risk of infections and STIs, women continue to baffle genealogists by saying hair removal makes them feel “more clean and hygienic”. Surveys show that women will spend approximately $10,000 and the equivalent of over four months of their lives removing hair.

In other words, let us not underestimate how entrenched hair removal has become in the female psyche and let us not underestimate how entrenched porn has become in the male psyche. Porn now indirectly determines female tastes, not the other way around. Which brings me back to my initial point: that the resurgence of female pubic hair in porn has nothing to do with feminism, but with fashion and profit.



Backed by big data and big money, various factions of the sprawling porn industry are now competing with one another by trying to offer something that others don’t. From faux-incestuous gangbanging to the dangerous rosebud to, yes, even female pubic hair, the porn industry will be sure to have everything for every potential client. The porn industry will be sure to supply you with novelty so that you keep clicking, supplanting your mind with innovative new fetishes that you never imagined you would crave. Researchers can’t even begin to understand how porn is affecting us because they literally have no control group. In this highly competitive market, there are waxed vaginas, full bushes, and every style in between.

“I never considered it a bad career move because I have always gotten attention because of my bush,” says actor Raven Snow. “It’s been a niche market for years. It’s pretty clear that with the internet, anything is possible and there’s always someone interested in whatever you have to offer. For me, a big part of that is my bush. I’m all for diversity in anything, and that goes for the multitudinous ways that you can style your bush. It’s clear that there’s a market for just about anything.” In a sea of smooth labia, as waxed as a spanking new convertible ready for a joy ride, women in porn can now don pubic hair as a way to stand out. “I’ve heard other performers going back to the bush because they can get jobs in what is kind of a niche market now,” says actor and model Penny Lay.

On the same Instagram feed, women see body positive posts right next to posts of thin, hairless Victoria’s Secret models

Many of the women in the industry believe that the decision for companies to allow them to keep their pubic hair is a sign of progress, but it’s actually a sign of marketing. “I was ready to defend my position of keeping my pubes, but it turns out the only inquiries I got from adult companies were like ‘can you grow it out even more?’” says performer Olive Glass.



While the response may seem like progress, the companies are still dictating how Glass fashions her body based on which style can turn them the most profit. In a similar vein, a startling number of Korean women, under the belief that pubic hair is a sign of sexual health and fertility, are now transplanting the hair from their heads to their labia. I can see how one could conflate hair growth for societal growth, but telling women they should have more hair, instead of less hair, is not progress. It’s an inverted retrogress.

In the same way that the perm, mullet, beehive, or any other hairstyle wasn’t attributed to feminism, neither should new bush hairstyles. “We [performers] definitely don’t see it as having to do with feminism,” says actor Arabelle Raphael. “It goes in waves and right now a bit of bush is more fashionable. There isn’t as clear of a norm anymore. Full bush still isn’t OK in the mainstream, but having a hairy mound is pretty popular. Most people still remove the hair on their lips. 80s was all bush, 90s was all bare, and now the bush is coming a bit back. It’s just trends. I still think people wouldn’t hire you if you had a full bush.” According to Raphael, if the resurgence in female pubic hair was linked to feminism or body positivity, then we’d also start to see more women with armpit or other body hair, but we aren’t.

What’s fashionable right now in porn is to keep a little hair up top on the “mound” and shave or wax everything underneath, according to queer performer Valentine. “It can provide more detail of the vulva and vagina itself. So close ups aren’t obscured by hair. The glistening and smoothness of a bare cunt is till the ultimate shot, but then the little bit of hair on top adds ‘maturity’ to a performer.”

She points out that some women may opt for more than a mound, for a full bush, or a “more feral look,” but then qualifies that women who do so will risk not getting booked. “Hair is still frowned upon and women are asked to shave or they risk losing gigs. It’s all about the aesthetics and will be at the discretion of the company.”

For the women who do not use their genital hair as a self-marketing strategy, they will still receive pushback if they aren’t hairless. “I receive more flack from viewers and photographers and designers when I’m not ideal flawless pink down there,” says Stephie Starr. “I think that ‘youth’ plays a huge part in it. Most men like younger women unless they are young themselves and having little to no hair gives that prepubescent feel to genitalia.” Yikes.

Lily Campbell, a progressive, producer, photographer and VR developer, believes that society is trending toward more body acceptance and less intense maintenance, and that seeing more pubic hair in porn is evidence of this trend. “I think we are headed to the effect of some type of middle ground with grooming versus an extreme polarization of all groomed or no groomed. I definitely think having body hair is becoming less taboo.”



Campbell, who is invested in body positivity and progressive porn, interprets the move to a more middle ground as a sign of progression. Yet Campbell is a female director who cares about values as much as profit, a rarity in the porn industry, and I wonder if this is just wishful thinking?

If pubic hair is starting to become even slightly more acceptable in mainstream porn, then why does the reason matter? Isn’t capitalism often one of the most powerful drivers of social progress? While it may seem like I’m splitting hairs (ha), the distinction is important because without it we can’t honestly understand where we are as a society in terms of progress. We must understand that we are subject to the fashion whims of porn that are designed by algorithms in order to turn a profit.



Telling women they should have more hair, instead of less hair, is not progress. It’s an inverted retrogress. Photograph: Alamy

Once we realize that we are not influencing the norms of porn, then we can better actively detangle ourselves from these norms. The logic can extend past pubic hair to any type of fetish or act, from paraphilic infantilism, to fauxest, to anal, to simple old BDSM, to anything that we believe we are normal or abnormal for not wanting to try. The first time we are exposed to a sexual act, we are excited by its novelty. After we are exposed to the act a few times, we find the act to still be exciting, but also more normal. Soon, we begin to resent our partners and ourselves for not wanting to experiment with these perceived exciting and normalized sexual acts.

Currently, the body-positive ethos of social media have affected the way that women can disseminate new norms outside of the porn industry or any other industry. When young girls see celebrities like Amber Rose post about pubic hair, they feel more empowered and more comfortable with their own bodies.

Yet with the different types of pressure converging on the internet, women can feel cognitive dissonance between what they want and what they think they should want. On the same Instagram feed, women see body positive posts right next to posts of thin, hairless, Victoria’s Secret models. They feel the pressure to not wax from feminists and pressure to wax from their partners. They are water heaters with pressure mounting on all sides, feeling as though they might explode.

When they run into these new norms while still internalizing the old norms, there is a clash. The takeaway becomes: “Her body, her choice.” If she wants to wax, let her wax, if she doesn’t, let her not wax. After men have policed the bodies of women for all of human history, women are weary about policing each other. Lily Campbell echoes this idea: “When we do something to help us feel beautiful and empowered it’s great. Whether that be keeping a fully smooth vagina or going full out hairy nature goddess.”

The problem with this rhetoric is that it ignores the fact that it’s not really our choice because the porn-warped male gaze has influenced our choices. Women end up internalizing the need to shave, pressuring themselves or each other, feeling dirty and unfeminine if they don’t, a phenomenon sex researchers refer to as “internalized misogyny.”



While I’m weary of spiraling into a metaphysical discussion of free will, the choice to spend money to pour molten wax on your genitals, submitting yourself to excruciating pain, violence, and the greater risk of infection and STIs is a choice, but one heavily tainted by the expectations of your partners and your society. How could it not be? And sure, yes, most of our behaviors, from slapping on uncomfortable heels to wearing a strappy floral summer dress on a chilly night, are equally influenced, but be clear that the “her body, her choice” mentality stalls progress. I never want to shame other women, but I want women to be honest and interrogate the idea that none of these choices are entirely ours.



By accepting your decision to shave as your choice, you immediately dismiss the alternative of not shaving. The process of interrogation can lead to more experimentation and ultimately more progression. It’s always easy to not do something. After you don’t shave for a month or two, you’ll find that not shaving feels very natural. Well, mostly, because it is.

That’s not to say you won’t face bad reactions from time to time. In medias res of canoodling, I once or twice have received horribly concealed criticism from men along the lines of, oh, you don’t shave down there? There is no turn off so great. I slapped their paws away, pulled my pants up, telling them that I didn’t want to sleep with them after all. I interpret my hair as a biological chastity belt, barring the wrong men from entering – wrong not because they aren’t feminists, not because they’re misogynists, not because they don’t understand the rhetoric of ‘my body, my choice,’ but wrong because they aren’t thinking critically about the forces, the mechanisms of capitalism, that are influencing their tastes, and are not trying harder to resist these forces. My body instinctively repels from such a man. My body instinctively wants to procreate with a man who critically thinks, a marker of superior genes. If a man ever has a problem with your body, it is a problem with his mind, not a problem with your body.

And still, sometimes, yes it’s true, I admit, I do shave in the shower. I don’t care if he judges me for my hair, but I do hope he appreciates the feel of a nice, smooth, leg. I certainly would. I’d like him to shave his legs occasionally too and he can borrow my razor anytime although I believe he has one of his own (a statistically sharper, better quality, and cheaper one).



I can say that my decision to shave is about what I desire, but I know it’s about his desires too. I want what he wants. I want what he wants. He wants what I want what he wants. We want what we want. I want my body the way that he wants it to be. Desires – like our limbs lying, side by side, in bed together – difficult to detangle.

