What The Hell Is Everyone Doing With Their Pubes?!
As I lay atop a bed covered in paper that crinkled under my body, I was reminded of my old paediatrician’s office, though I’m not sure I’d ever been in this exact position there... Spread eagled with the provided white wash cloth draped over my naked crotch, for modesty I suppose, though it seemed pointless as any second now a woman was going to walk through the door and be all up in my junk.
It’s an interesting situation to be in, someone face to face with your genitalia before you’ve even exchanged pleasantries.
For years I’ve been a participant in the masochistic ritual commonly referred to as the “brazilian wax”, but I still remember my first like it was yesterday, ah to be young again. My vagina was to be making it’s debut appearance, or at least comeback, any day now. It had been a long time since anyone had seen my nether regions. I was past the point of my family seeing me fully nude, I’ll admit I was one of those kids who changed behind a towel after pool class, but now a boy had expressed his interest in eating me out and I knew I had to get in tip top shape for the occasion. I was pretty sure being completely hairless was the standard, after all I’d never seen any stray hairs sticking out of other girls bathing suits at the beach. Was I just hairier than them or was there some unspoken code about how to get rid of your low hanging mane? It was then that I truly began to wonder: what the hell is everyone doing with their pubes?!
It’s been puzzling mankind for millennia, and someone’s gotta ask the tough questions around here, so here we go.
Though most of us have pubic hair, the amount of discussion around the topic is almost non-existent. It’s not something you’re really talked through when you first get it around puberty and it’s still not something discussed about amongst peers now. As of late I’ve tried broaching the topic with friends, my curiosity reaching an almost desperate level, and some of the responses I’ve gotten about others intimate grooming habits have truly blown my mind. Learning that one of your best friends has a landing strip that you just haven’t known about really makes you question how well you know the people in your life. I’ve spoken to friends who have never gone bare, or altered their pubic hair much from it’s natural state, which baffled me. B-b-b-but isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? I had a guy tell me that he actually preferred when girls had hair down there which, despite the fact that I had just received a brazilian days earlier, made me feel incredibly liberated. That said I’ve also been with someone who only really wanted to have sex with me when I had been waxed. It’s all so confusing!
Teenage me had felt even more at a loss. I had tried shaving before, which always ended badly. Slippery when wet shaving a vulva is akin to peeling a mango; both instances most definitely ending in self-butchery. Not only arduous, but I found that brandishing a blade near my most sensitive bits produced less than ideal results anyways. For me shaving meant nicks and ingrowns, it took ages to get around all the nooks and crannies, and once I’d finished one patch I’d realize the hair just kept going further and further back. If by the grace of god I actually did manage to make some progress, the handiwork would be nothing but a distant memory come morning.
I’d tried trimming but I found that, besides giving myself a horrible hunchback as I doubled over trying to avoid my own shadow, I’d always end up with a sort of patchy mohawk situation which wasn’t really the vibe I was going for.
I decided my sexual debut was an occasion to be left to the professionals. Waxing seemed like the most reputable solution for my unwanted hair, and was what I assumed most women were doing at the time. If nothing more it’s a great exercise in saying “Here I am world!” and I can think of few things more humbling than having a stranger you met ten minutes ago ask you to spread your cheeks while they smear searing hot wax between them with a popsicle stick.
Booking my first appointment felt like I was doing something wrong or dangerous. The online booking form was overwhelming enough, with so many options of where exactly you wanted hair removed from, and I just didn’t know! Would this boy find a patch of my pubic hair made to resemble a triangle or heart more alluring? Then actually walking in to this foreign establishment to get naked with a stranger and pay them to hurt me...I remember lying to my parents about where I had been.
It’s a big moment, the first time someone gets in your pants. I just hadn’t envisioned that I would be sharing it with a middle aged Czech woman.
The skin where my leg met my pubic bone had been ripped in a jagged line, a large purple bruise surrounding the bloody wound. I was told it would get easier the more frequently I did this. What a fantastic business model: let us harm you for 20 minutes, gives us your pocket money, and then come back in 4-6 weeks to do the whole thing over again. Looking down at my bare and battered groin I remember thinking that this was what sexy looked like. This is what boys liked, what was to be expected.
Since then my hair removal journey has included most options under the sun. I’ve shaved, trimmed, waxed, sugared, even dropped a grand on permanent laser hair removal only to be told after 6 sessions with zero results, that it didn’t work on blonde hair. Falling back in to my sugaring routine accounting for $40-$80 of my monthly budget, I was let in on the real unspoken truth: that most guys didn’t really care what was going on down there.
Hair removal for me had definitely started as a way to appease and allure boys, but I don’t know maybe I did like it for myself now too? I’d say it made me feel sexier but perhaps the westernized male gaze blabber was just too deeply embedded, I didn’t know the difference between what I liked and what I thought I was supposed to like, even on matters as intimate as concerns of my own body. Like okay, if I was stranded on a remote island and knew there was no possibility of someone seeing me naked, would I still be concerned with how my pubic hair looked? Probably not, but that’s probably just because I’d be busy building a raft of something!
I’d always assumed it was women who were supposed to alter their bodies for men, and men could just stay how god made them. Though I think this issue is one that femme presenting folk may feel the pressure of more, I’ve also seen great variance with men’s pubic hair display as well. I’ve been with men who are as smooth as dolphins and others with whom I’d be picking hairs out of my mouth hours later. Don’t even get me started on some of the funky hairstyles I’ve seen in porn. I was at a party the other night where I had a delightful conversation with two guys who told me about their attempts to rid themselves of their asshole hair and was enamoured by their candor.
This past year I’ve seen more and more women and femme presenting individuals embracing their armpit hair which has been a public no-no for so long. It’s great to see people taking ownership of their bodies and going against the grain of what we’ve been told is the gold standard of grooming but I question wether these liberties have extended below the belt. I question wether I wouldn’t get funny looks at the beach if my pubes were poking out from under my bikini.
I do admittedly still feel this pressure to conform to what I think others will like. I still get apprehensive about sleeping with people when I’m in my regrowth phase between wax appointments. I personally don’t really care what others pubic hair look like, but somehow I still think that school of thought could never apply to me. The fear of someone being turned off seeing my natural hair seems like too high a gamble in my mind, I’d rather just pay the 80 bucks and talk to some nice lady about her kids while trying not to flinch.
I suppose we all have our personal preferences, and as they are personal I know rationally there’s no way to appeal to everyone so we should ultimately do what we like best. Rationally I also know that if you’re about to have sex with someone, the hello kitty portrait carved out of your pubes is probably the last thing they’re thinking about.
My haircare journey is far from over and I think I’m still trying to figure out what fits best for me. I invite you to discuss the topic of pubic hair with your friends, lovers, grandparents, fellow public transport riders. I invite you to assess your own pubic hair, or lack thereof, and ask yourself how fulfilled you feel by it. We, mentally and physically, are always evolving and your pubes fall under that umbrella too cowboy, I salute you.