It all started with one, single chin hair.
I must have been 16 or 17 at the time, a wee babe, looking at herself in the hallway mirror as wee babes are apt to do.
Ugh! A chin hair, I scoffed, proceeding to yank the strand out, two-finger style. Back in those days I didn't own a pair of tweezers--why would I have? I didn't believe my eyebrows (nor anyone else's, for that matter) needed plucking, and my sporadic interest in depilating my upper lip hair could be handled with a quick, semi-painless smear of Nair (does the burning mean it's done?).
Tweezers, shmeezers-- I was young and mostly hairless--the world was my oyster!
By the time I was 20, however, things took a dark turn. You see, over the years, that one, little chin hair hair grew back. And every time I would rip it out, it seemed to come back with a vengeance--and friends. One grew into two grew into five and then into what felt like five thousand.
By the time I was 22, I was regularly removing my chin hair, either by the incredibly painful-yet-effective threading method, or by shaving the hairs myself. Now, while shaving was the cheapest & least painful depilation method for me, it also made me feel incredibly masculine, which I did not like. I believed women--or at least feminine-presenting women--were not supposed to shave facial hair. Of course, we weren't supposed to shave our facial hair because we weren't supposed to have it; it was unnatural, un-ladylike--wrong.
And yet, there I stood: a young, feminine-presenting woman with a chin full of shaving cream and a razor in hand. My mere existence challenged that logic.
How could I be wrong when I was right there, existing? My chin hair could not defy the laws of nature because they were not only a part of me, but the part of me that grows in my most natural state.
What my chin hair was defying was the laws of our collective consciousness--laws both spoken and un--that are perpetuated by the media we consume and the products we create.
I didn't like shaving, or any other form of facial hair removal that I tried. Threading, tweezing, and two unsuccessful bouts of laser hair removal all felt like temporary solutions to a larger problem: resistance.
I was living in a state of resistance to my body hair--a state of resistance to myself. And if there's one spiritual truth I've been brought to learn is that what one resists, persists.
So this November, I decided to take the path of least resistance--to try my chin hair out for size and see if I could truly accept myself as I am--chin hair and all.
The results will astound you.
...Or, you know, at least inform you about this girl's journey to self love and breaking out of the gendered, binary chains of yore.
So, without further ado, I present to you: "Trying Out My Chin Hair: A 30 Day Experience," where we laugh, we cry, and we learn to love the very thing we once convinced ourselves was unloveable.
All my love,
Originally posted in 2019, this restored post is so timely and relevant to what I'm going through now in my second round of "Trying Out My Chin Hair."
Here's Part One of the series wherein I challenge my followers on YouTube/the interwebz to embrace their body hairs alongside me.
Oh Baby Spirit, so wise and beauty-full. I am definitely thankful for this light, found in a forgotten flash drive, tonight.