Why I’m not shaving my legs this summer — and shouldn’t have to

I still remember when I became aware of my body hair.

I was in primary school when a classmate said I ‘looked like a gorilla’. I went home, stole my dad’s razor, and shaved my arms.

Then, in year seven, a boy asked me why my legs were ‘so hairy’. I promptly went home in tears, begging my mum to let me shave them.

From then on, aged just 12, shaving became a weekly chore. Yes, silky smooth legs might feel satisfying against fresh bed sheets, but waxing hurts, shaving is irritating, and applying hair removal cream feels like chemical warfare on my skin. 

So, after 13 years of hair removal, as the weather got warmer this year, I began to feel exhausted by the sheer thought of it, thinking: ‘Why am I doing this, and who am I doing this for?’

I’m in a relationship with a woman who couldn’t care less about whether I shave or not (yes, I’m aware of the stereotype).

But even as a gay woman, I still found myself questioning what other people would think. So, as my razor loomed at me from the corner of my bathroom, I decided to give it a go: I vowed not to shave this summer, to find out whether I felt free — or just really fuzzy.

‘I’ve actually started to like it’

My leg hair isn’t blonde. It’s dark and noticeable. At the start of this experiment, I thought I’d feel too exposed, especially when going out and wearing dresses or skirts. 

But I went on two beach holidays this summer and to a wedding. and I didn’t feel weird in the slightest. Nor did I feel awkward in a bikini or in a fancy dress with my hairy ankles poking out.

I even find going to the office with hairy legs quite funny. It’s something that would never have been accepted 50 years ago, so why shouldn’t I take advantage of that freedom now?

The only place I’ve noticed lingering looks is on the tube, mostly from older men. But I honestly think people just love an excuse to stare on the underground, so I don’t take it personally.

My skin feels the benefit too. I used to itch constantly, especially after just shaving or in hot weather. But now I don’t get any of that. My shower routine is quicker too.

If anything, letting my leg hair grow out has made me feel more feminine. There’s something nice about accepting what your body does naturally, and not trying to constantly get rid of it.

Will I ever shave again? Potentially. But if I do, it’ll be because I want to, not because I feel like I have to.

‘It’s one less thing to give a sh*t about’

I’m not the only one to go au naturel. Megan Grundy, 26, from Manchester, stopped shaving her legs in 2018. She’d let them grow out over winter, and questioned why she was picking up her razor when summer arrived.

‘I felt weird, like I wasn’t doing it because I wanted to, but because I had to,’ she tells Metro. ‘So I thought: I’m actually not that bothered about doing this.’

Megan, who dates women, says at first she had ‘a lot of weird reactions from people.’ One girl claimed it ‘was more like dating a man’ after noticing her unshaven legs.

While she doesn’t receive many off-hand comments these days, she finds it odd when she’s called ‘brave’.

She adds: ‘I don’t get why people say that. It just shows how much people judge women’s appearances. Women should be able to not shave and it not be a political act.

‘It’s just nice to have one less thing to give a s*** about.’

And Megan insists she doesn’t particularly care what other people think. ‘It personally makes me feel sexier because it’s one layer of insecurity I’ve pushed past,’ she says.

Others are motivated to grow their body hair for different reasons. Emily Cleary, a married mother of two, had been shaving her legs since she was 13, but stopped after noticing how it was affecting her eight-year-old daughter. 

‘She had been called a monkey by a classmate who was bullying her, and said she “hated” her hairy legs,’ Emma tells Metro. 

‘I told her she was beautiful and that her legs were perfectly normal, but then she asked “why do you take the hair off yours?”.

It was a wake-up call for Emma. ‘I decided then and there that until she was older and I felt okay about her shaving her legs, I wouldn’t shave mine.

‘I wanted her to know hairy legs are normal. I also have a son, two years older than her, and I want him to understand that women’s legs have hair too.’

Emma isn’t immune to passing judgments. ‘There’s the odd joke about my knee beard, and I admit I feel a little self-conscious on the train when the light catches it. I wonder if the person next to me is looking.’

But ultimately, she’s proud of her new-fund fuzz. ‘I’m blonde, it’s not as obvious as a darker-haired person. I feel proud that I made this decision and proved to my daughter I’m not a hypocrite.’

Hair removal as a feminist battleground

Shaving, as we know it, is a surprisingly recent invention. At the turn of the century, advertising campaigns began targeting women’s underarms and legs, and in 1915, Gillette made the first razor specifically for women.

The brand was capitalising on the changing styles of the early 20th century, when sleeveless dresses and tops meant that underarm hair was more visible. According to Gilette’s marketing, it was ‘unsightly’.

Shorter hemlines and wartime nylon shortages also led to a scarcity in stockings, and by this time, the bikini was popular on beaches. Soon, hairlessness had become routine.

Over the years, there have been periods of resistance, when not shaving is used to make a feminist statement. During the 60s to the 70s, some women gave up shaving their armpits as a visual protest against the patriarchy.

Celebrities have joined the conversation too. Julia Roberts famously walked the Red Carpet for Notting Hill with unshaven armpits. And A-listers, including Madonna, Miley Cyrus and Drew Barrymore, have also been known to go unshaven. 

But it’s not always about sending a message. ‘I waved, and people saw I had armpit hair. It was a scandal,’ Julia recalls in the 2024 Life in Looks film. However, she admited on a chat show in 2018 that she ‘hadn’t really calculated the sleeve length and the waving’.

Is body hair really a ‘choice’?

Virginia Menedez, is a gender equality expert and feminist. Speaking to Metro, she says: ‘On the surface, leg-shaving is presented as a personal preference: “I like how it feels” or “it’s my choice”, but this choice is heavily shaped by pervasive social conditioning.’

‘If societal norms did not frame hairlessness as essential to femininity and desirability, many women might not adopt the practice or might abandon it earlier.’

Plus, not all women experience the pressure of hair removal equally. 

As darker, thicker hair is more visible, many women of colour feel pressure to remove it to be deemed clean, desirable and feminine by society’s beauty standards. Deciding not to shave is not as simple.

Research from the University of York also suggests that women of colour are often subjected to more scrutiny and shame around visible hair. 

Those diagnosed with PCOS — a hormonal imbalance condition that can cause excessive hair growth on the face, stomach, chest and thighs — may also view shaving as a survival strategy to meet mainstream ideas of beauty. 

Even for trans women, for whom shaving is seen as part of the feminisation process, it begs the question: why does hairlessness equal femininity?

This isn’t about judging women who do shave. But we should never feel forced into adapting our bodies to feel more desired or ‘normal’.

I’m glad I embraced my body hair — and I’d encourage others to do the same.

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