So the other day, I’m standing in front of our bookshelf, trying to reach something on one of the higher shelves when I hear a high-pitched scream. I turn around expecting to see blood or a rat or a bloody rat. Instead I find myself facing the eight-year-old who has a look of abject fear and revulsion on his face.
‘What? What happened?’
He silently points at me. Is there a bloody rat on my head? I stand absolutely still.
‘What is it? Spit it out.’
‘Your…your armpit!’
I look at my underarms.
‘What’s wrong with them?’
‘There’s…there’s so much hair Amma!’
‘Oh! That’s nothing.’
‘No. It’s not nothing. It’s a lot of…something!’ This last word is accompanied by a gagging sound.
Now, agreed, the situation might be a little ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ in the region but it’s not that bad.
‘You need to get rid of it! It’s creepy.’
Wait up now. Is my eight-year-old body hair-shaming me? I take a quick peak. Okay, sure, it looks like Cousin Itt from The Addam’s Family has taken up residence over there, but so what? Me being me, I recognise this as a teachable moment, which, of course, is parent speak for a lecture.
‘It’s just hair. Like on my head. And your head, and Appa’s head and Anna’s head! Why is it so bad if it’s on my armpit?’
‘It just looks wrong.’
‘Appa has armpit hair.’
‘That’s different.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s a boy.’
Where has my son picked up that it’s okay for men to be hairy but not women? But, since this is the same child who tried to get me to cover up my very modest display of cleavage, should I be surprised?
‘Okay. The dog is covered in hair! He even has hair on his butt. You don’t seem to have a problem with that.’
The eight-year-old sighs in a resigned way and then answers very slowly as though I am the eight-year-old.
‘He’s ALSO a boy, Amma. And a dog. Dogs are meant to be furry.’
‘Humans are meant to be furry too. It keeps us warm in the cold.’
‘We aren’t eskimos, Amma.’
‘We aren’t. But body hair and facial hair are completely normal. If and when I want to ‘get rid of it’ I will.
‘Well, if it’s normal and fine why would you ever want to get rid of it?’
‘Because I’ve been brainwashed into thinking that I should. And everyone else does.’
‘Amma, if everyone jumped off a bridge, would YOU jump off a bridge?’
‘No.’ I feel very small and stupid. ‘It’s all the patriarchal advertising and media industry’s fault! They want us to believe that the only way to be pretty is to be hairless.’
‘The pastry who?’
‘The patriarchy!’
The eleven-year-old who has already heard this talk on the evils of a patriarchal society whispers loudly to his brother ‘Run! Run now!’
It falls on Woody to listen to my rant which he does patiently. Licking his hairy butt.
menaka raman
@menakaraman
The writer’s philosophy is: if there’s no blood, don’t call me