Same game different players.
Before we get going, I’d like to say that this post is coming from a lot of recent emotions that have come up for me. In many ways, I think it resembles more of a think piece than an analytic breakdown of the topic. As always, I’d love to hear if you have any thoughts on the piece!
The last post I wrote for this blog was about body hair. I wrote that post, because it felt like a cause I was passionate about. I wanted to contribute to a conversation that I found important. Upon reflection, I think a big reason I am invested in this conversation is likely because my armpit hair is one of my most noticeable forms of gender nonconformity. As someone often perceived as a feminine woman (whether I want to be or not), my armpit hair is something I’m very proud of. What I’m finding, however, is that this pride comes with new challenges. The challenges I’ve experienced is why I wanted to follow up the previous blog post.
My thoughts on the subject are similar to what they were last summer, but I feel as if I am viewing the topic from a different lens this year. Largely, this has to do with the fact that I’m single and in the dating world. For a while, I never put pictures of my armpit hair on my dating profile. This was 100% internalized misogyny. I had the courage to grow my armpit hair out, but I wasn’t ready to detach from the validation I received as a feminine presenting person. I eventually came to terms with the fact that I had no interest in talking to anyone who didn’t support me expressing my bodily autonomy, so I included the following picture of me as the first photo on my dating profile.
For the most part, I expected those who weren’t interested in speaking to me to simply skip my profile and move to all the other lovely daters on Hinge. I imagine this happens most of the time. I’ve only had a few occasions where people (men) let me know to “shave it’s 2023” or tell me I’m “gross.” This is something that I expected. Obviously, it would feel better to be told I seem hilarious or intelligent, but I can usually brush these types of interactions off. However, there is an additional type of message that tends to linger with me a bit longer. These are the interactions where I feel sexualized/objectified for my grooming choices.
This is something that I’ve come across on dating apps and in person. With dating apps, I’ve received messages asking if folks “can lick my armpits” or people telling me they are “weirdly attracted to armpit hair.” I had an in person interaction where someone told me I wasn’t as “hairy” as I had been in the past and that I should stop shaving (even though I was nowhere near bald). These interactions might seem trivial. Maybe my discomfort with these experiences seems contradictory considering my last post’s call to let folks present how they want to present. Shouldn’t I feel grateful someone finds my armpit hair attractive?
Shocker, I have issue with this thinking. Asking someone to feel grateful their seen as attractive despite their non-normative performance is completely naive to the reasons one would grow out their armpit hair in the first place. My armpit hair is a stance against beauty standards and objectification. It says that patriarchy can’t tell me how to present myself. More specifically, it says that it is not my job to perform gender in a way that is palatable and fuckable to straight cisgender men. These experiences were a rude awakening. They showed me that just because you try your best to evade the influence of patriarchy you will inevitable be viewed through that lens. Counter cultural practices are not established in a vacuum. They are created and consumed through the framework of what is seen as normal.
When I receive messages of this nature, it feels like the same game with different players. It reminds me that no matter what I look like I am still susceptible to a gaze that sexualizes and objectifies me. It reminds me that even though I am a conscious being who made an active choice about my presentation, my personhood can be flattened into a body waiting to be sexualized. My point is that just because you are sexualizing someone for something considered “not normal” doesn’t mean you aren’t still sexualizing them. The power present in telling certain people they need to shave their body is still there when you are telling them they shouldn’t. The power just looks different. I grew out my armpit hair to say “you can’t tell me what to do” just to be told what to do again. My frustration comes when my choices are perceived as a talking point for fetishization or regarded as within a jurisdiction of control despite what I feel is a very clear signpost. Saying you want to fuck me because of my armpit hair is not the feminist stance you think it is.
As with all human interaction, I find that there is a right and a wrong way to go about talking to folks. There have been many occasions where people have told me they love that I grow my armpit hair out or that it’s badass. My therapist actually told me I encouraged her to start sporting hers! Genuinely, these interactions make me so happy and proud that I can even inspire one person to feel comfortable in their body. For me, the difference between these interactions and the others mentioned is the intent or maybe it is delivery. Either way, in the situations I leave feeling hopeful and proud, it is because I feel seen for my choices. I feel like their praising my tenacity not ignoring it. I guess my amendment to the previous post is that it is important to understand why you are supporting folks in their performance (whether it be armpit hair or anything else). If we fail to acknowledge the humanity of the people we find “weirdly attractive,” we will just reinstate the power dynamics they were attempting to fight in the first place. Just because power looks different does not mean it is not there, and I’m not interested in being sexualized for my slick body or my hairy one.
Tangent: I have yet to experience this type of objectifying from someone who does not identify as a cishet man. I don’t mean to harp on the cis men in the room, but it is a pattern that probably should not be ignored. Also, this is not to suggest that normativity in gender performance is not an issue is the gay community. I find that the reason these power structures are so strong is because they touch everyone in a way. We are all doing our best, and I’m simply speaking from my experience.
