In 1999, at the premiere of her film “Notting Hill,” Julia Roberts bared her unshaven armpits — and it was crazy. The media had a field day with this, attacking her with all kinds of vicious comments about her “unkempt” nature.
Today this seems ridiculous. The tide of body hair has progressively turned, especially among young liberal communities. At the 5Cs, it certainly doesn’t attract a second look. However, this freedom and feminism windfall hasn’t benefited all equally.
Marginalized groups, particularly Black and gender-queer communities, enduringly face stronger body hair prejudice, while white, cis women declare victory. It’s up to us, in our present moment of hair political flux, to make any hair, anywhere, acceptable for anyone.
At the time of Julia Roberts’ display, a shaved armpit was truly scandalous. Beauty standards for much of the modern era have emphasized the necessity of hairlessness for women. Women were, and still are, encouraged to shave their legs, armpits and any part of their body where hair naturally grows. Since the early 20th century, lack of hair has become synonymous with the ideal body and was essential for women in particular.
This was by no doubt a product of the capitalist patriarchy which purposefully produced an image of women designed to suit men’s desires in order to sell women the necessary products to maintain this image. For example, in 1915, Gillette came out with the Milady Decollette, the first razor advertised specifically to women. This was part of a larger push by shaving companies to portray body hair as masculine and unhygienic.
This narrative remained part of the dominant culture for much of the 20th and early 21st centuries. Especially for those of previous generations, an emphasis on shaving and keeping a hairless body has remained entrenched.
In recent years, young people have defied this norm. A 2016 study found that one in four women under 25 do not shave their armpits, a figure that is likely higher now in 2025.
For Gen Z, this is not shocking. I personally know many women who choose not to shave their body hair, and on any given day on a college campus, one can see this trend in full force.
Even as the culture becomes more accepting of women sporting bewhiskered bodies, it seems that acceptance and permission have largely been extended to white and feminine-presenting women somewhat exclusively — women who otherwise fall squarely into the conventional beauty standard. I am not criticizing these women; they have a fundamental right to choose not to shave, and our culture should and must allow for that choice.
However, if we claim to be a culture based on equitable feminist ideas, not shaving must be allowed for all gender identities.
Body hair plays a role in one’s gender expression, but unfortunately, it carries racial and classist connotations. In a study conducted by Breanne Fahs, women of color and working-class women report feeling a greater sense of social pressure when it comes to how they keep their body hair.
Due to factors like textural and color differences, alongside an existing political and social culture that already marginalizes women of color and turns a blind eye to their discrimination, the feeling of pressure to shave one’s body hair is felt much stronger in certain communities.
This is shown if one examines the history of body hair removal: Specifically in the United States, hair removal popularity has shot up multiple times over the course of American history, and these spikes in popularity notably coincide with waves of non-white immigration to the United States.
Further, hair discrimination has been a fundamental aspect of American discrimination towards Black women, dating back to the forced adoption of grooming and hair removal that began during the era of chattel slavery. This mode of regulation has remained a prominent part of American culture’s mistreatment and marginalization of Black women.
It is in those communities that the culture of acceptance for female body hair has not been fully extended. Race is a fundamental determinant of how a woman with body hair is perceived. This is not a problem unique to this feminist movement, as women of color are later to benefit from any perceived social, political, economic or cultural gains.
The unique situation develops with shaving because it is almost exclusively us who have the power to force a shift. It is our day-to-day interactions with one another that give people the comfort — or lack thereof — to sport body hair if they so please. It is our collective perception and acceptance of this phenomenon that will grant more and more people the space not to shave.
To align ourselves with values of equity and respect for an individual’s right to authentic self-expression, we have an obligation to let people do whatever they want when it comes to body hair.
Still, we have a responsibility to ensure that the developing societal reclamation of bodily autonomy is equitable. The voices and discomforts of those who are most marginalized by stigma around body hair are the voices that should inform broader action.
We are in a position in which we get to decide the norms, especially on campus when the bulk of connection and norm-building is done by each other. In this regard, we have a collective responsibility to all women, and those of non-conforming identities — especially people of color — to work harder at deconstructing patterns and systems that do not grant liberation and control over self-expression.
We can do this easily. Push back on older generations when they criticize those who choose not to shave. Learn about and confront the racist history that permeates not only in the shaving industry, but the broader beauty industry as a whole. An acceptance of a person’s right to choose whether or not they shave is representative of a broader culture of acceptance towards authentic individualism, a facet we should all strive for.
Alex Benach PO ’28 is from Washington, D.C. and really hates shaving their knees.
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