Bel Olid - Hairless

1 Cover

2 Title Page Hairless Breaking the Vicious Circle of Hair Removal, Submission and Self-Hatred Bel Olid Translated from Catalan by Laura McGloughlin polity

3 Copyright Copyright © Bel Olid, 2020 Originally published in Catalan as A contrapel by Edicions Destino Translation rights arranged by Asterisc Agents. All rights reserved This English edition © Polity Press, 2022 The translation of this work has been supported by the Institut Ramon Llull. Polity Press 65 Bridge Street Cambridge CB2 1UR, UK Polity Press 101 Station Landing Suite 300 Medford, MA 02155, USA All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purpose of criticism and review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. ISBN-13: 978-1-5095-5020-3 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Control Number: 2021947547 The publisher has used its best endeavours to ensure that the URLs for external websites referred to in this book are correct and active at the time of going to press. However, the publisher has no responsibility for the websites and can make no guarantee that a site will remain live or that the content is or will remain appropriate. Every effort has been made to trace all copyright holders, but if any have been overlooked the publisher will be pleased to include any necessary credits in any subsequent reprint or edition. For further information on Polity, visit our website: politybooks.com

4 Dedication Dedication For you, who might want to know whether you want to. And for all those women who have helped me do what I want to.

5 1 History of an Obsession

6 2 From Happiness to Shame

7 3 Is a Hairy Femininity Possible?

8 4 Because I Want To, Sure. But Why Do I Want To?

9 5 A Hairy Road to the Future

10 End User License Agreement

1 Cover

2 Table of Contents

3 Title Page Hairless Breaking the Vicious Circle of Hair Removal, Submission and Self-Hatred Bel Olid Translated from Catalan by Laura McGloughlin polity

4 Copyright

5 Dedication

6 Begin Reading

7 End User License Agreement

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Bel Olid

Translated from Catalan by Laura McGloughlin

polity

Copyright © Bel Olid, 2020

Originally published in Catalan as A contrapel by Edicions Destino Translation rights arranged by Asterisc Agents. All rights reserved

This English edition © Polity Press, 2022

The translation of this work has been supported by the Institut Ramon Llull.

Polity Press

65 Bridge Street

Cambridge CB2 1UR, UK

Polity Press

101 Station Landing

Suite 300

Medford, MA 02155, USA

All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purpose of criticism and review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 978-1-5095-5020-3

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021947547

The publisher has used its best endeavours to ensure that the URLs for external websites referred to in this book are correct and active at the time of going to press. However, the publisher has no responsibility for the websites and can make no guarantee that a site will remain live or that the content is or will remain appropriate.

Every effort has been made to trace all copyright holders, but if any have been overlooked the publisher will be pleased to include any necessary credits in any subsequent reprint or edition.

For further information on Polity, visit our website: politybooks.com

For you, who might want to know whether you want to.

And for all those women who have helped me do what I want to.

I decided not to shave anymore.

The deciding part is important: from puberty until that day, I’d spent a large part of my life not shaving, but there was no conscious decision to challenge anything behind it. Like so many women, I felt obliged to do so if my legs, armpits or groin were going to be on show in public, and I didn’t feel obliged to if nothing was going to be on show. After showering, I would play with the hair on my legs (always prickly from shaving them so often) and I’d think, ‘One of these days I have to shave’, and leave it until the hot weather came.

As a teenager, I would stare fascinated at the impeccable and seemingly smooth legs of friends and wonder how they did it. My hair was rebellious, abundant, black. Waxing wouldn’t pull it all out, and if I brushed my hand over the tender skin, still hot from the wax, I’d still be stubbly and not at all sensual. Within a few days, it would be the same as ever. Every time, the beautician promised that with this new technique I wouldn’t have to come back for a month, and every time it was a lie. When it was already undeniable that, yes, once again my legs were hairy, I’d don my trousers and avoid the beach until I ended up going back there: the torture of hot wax; red, sensitive skin; hair peeping out, threatening.

Hair removal creams did leave my skin smooth, but it was an illusion that lasted barely a few hours. The hair grew even faster than with waxing and was more stubborn, as if enraged by the aggression. The other option, shaving my legs, was a long, tedious task. I would often cut myself and the itchy nicks would be with me until the itch of newly sprouting hair turned up.

My absolute failure when it came to keeping my hair in line was more than a practical failure condemning me to trousers and beach-less days: it was a clear failure of my femininity. I already felt like an impostor in the role of a girl: I performed the best I could for fear of becoming lost and finding myself even more alone than I already was, but I knew that the long locks and dresses were a lie that I was painfully sustaining. The fact that hair persisted in climbing up my legs, sprouting uncontrollably and ever more plentiful, and my inability to tame its stubborn bushiness were unequivocal signs that, no, I wasn’t a real woman.

My mother said it was my fault. I wasn’t disciplined enough with waxing; I gave in too early to the razor. Actually, waxing was expensive; and my means as an adolescent, precarious. She had fine, light hair, and very little of it, and she only shaved once a year. Maybe if I had inherited that attribute from her, I wouldn’t have seen the need for questioning hair removal, seeking to free myself from it. The easier it is for us to conform to the canon, the less violent what it imposes on us seems. But conforming has never been my strong suit.