Sexologist Catherine Blanc reflects on the prejudices that complicate our intimate life.
“We are not here to make moral judgments about the hair removal trend. We live in a society and, of course, we strive to follow its rules in order to feel like full members of it and take our rightful place. But what do these rules say? They testify to what society is concerned about at the moment, and at the same time to more personal unconscious meanings. That is why it is interesting to understand what the current merciless war with vegetation on the body means.
Over the centuries, men and women have treated her differently. Since the hair on the body of a man meant masculinity in other eras, then the desire of a woman to get rid of them is understandable. However, there were times when the presence of hair on the intimate parts of the body was in the order of things for women. And how, in this case, should one relate to the fact that now the intimate zone (not only in women, but sometimes in men) is freed from just what shows maturity, and hence the possible activity of the genital organs? It’s funny to see that body hair is perceived as something dirty, since it is they that indicate sexual maturity. Physiologically, their appearance means the possibility of uncontrolled sexual impulses. And all of us, more or less consciously, are afraid of the manifestations of our animal nature and, thereby, of our aggressiveness. Therefore, we resist the natural growth of these hairs, we want to control it with a razor or resorting to epilation. How is it that our society, which values sexuality so highly and advertises it at every opportunity, proposes to eliminate just the most obvious signs of it?
- The temptation of a smooth body
The paradox is imaginary, because the more we strive for unrestricted sexuality, the more we are afraid that it will overwhelm us. And hair removal creates the illusion that we can curb our sexuality. In addition, for the current obsessive exhibitionism (including pornography, where all close-ups), the vegetation on the body has become superfluous — it spoils the view.
But what do we do when we free the penis or pubis from hair? We tear away the veil of secrecy, flaunt our male and female sex attributes as irrefutable evidence of our identity. Does this mean that we have doubts and we need proof? Or do we believe that the invisible does not exist? Or maybe, showing everything without concealment, but still not knowing the secret of sexuality, we want to look into it more carefully … To expose everything in order to alleviate our anxiety? We can hide the hairs, show them or remove them, and in the same way they can be considered erotic or vice versa. This subjective choice depends not only on the requirements of the era, but also on our personal history.