I can vividly remember the first time I was shamed for having leg hair: I was ten and it was the Holiday concert at my school. I was wearing a black dress with red roses and, for the first time ever, pantyhose. Leg hair was the last thing on my mind; in fact I’m sure I wasn’t even aware that I had hair on my legs. A male classmate came up to me with a look of complete disgust and said, ‘what are you growing down there a bush?!’ Looking down I saw some of my brown leg hair had gotten visibly matted under the pantyhose.
I was humiliated, and that memory has stayed with me all these years.
Flash ahead twenty years, when I’m a camp counselor at a music camp for young girls. All of the counselors were female and delightfully diverse, at that: Femmes, butches, lesbians, straight women and everyone in-between. And…
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