Armpits

After reading Valenti’s impassioned chapter about why I’m definitely a hard core feminist even if I’m hesitant to admit it, I decided I wasn’t going to shave my armpits anymore. Not because I think thought this was the “feminist” thing to do (okay, maybe a little bit); I just wanted to do it. I wanted to feel what it’s like to say fuck you, I’m hairy, and it feels totally awesome. I don’t care what the hell you think. I should do this kind of stuff all the time, after all, I have the ability to do it without getting penalized, which is a privilege I should not forget. There are places in the world where women have to cover up their bodies or suffer the consequences. Why, if I have the ability not to, do I continue to shave my legs and armpits? Will this offend other people? Will I make them uncomfortable? Will I make myself uncomfortable?

So, in taking full advantage of the ability to express myself completely (by being really lazy and not shaving) I didn’t shave for about a month. Yeah, it was beyond fuzzy, and maybe it was even a little scary, but I loved it. I enjoyed knowing that no harm comes to those who do not shave. And to tell you the truth, I was really amused by the horrified looks I got from people who would catch a glimpse.

Then Madrigal came around, and my shocked and appalled girlfriends practically forced me to shave my armpits. (They wouldn’t get too close to me though). I guess that looks like I’m a failure and a sucker for peer pressure. Well, this is partially true. But there are two things I’d like to say about that: 1) I haven’t forgotten one of the first things we learned in class, which is that we exist on a continuum of “masculine” and “feminine” actions/feelings; Madrigal just so happened to be an appropriate time to squeeze into a nice dress and attempt to put on make-up…and shave my armpits (which I guess are “feminine things”), and 2) even though it seems like I was leaning toward one end of the spectrum that night, I ended up somewhere in the middle, because I wore my big brown L.L. Bean boots to the dance in protest of all the other girls who felt obligated to wear heels in below freezing weather. Like Virginia said, “It is fatal to be a man or woman pure and simple: one must be a woman manly, or a man womanly.”