Bush

A brief journey through the long and tangled history of pube-removal

Shave it, trim it, wax it, tweeze it, cream it, zap it, dye it, leave it! Sounds like a bad Daft Punk cover, or perhaps a weird new-age version of Bop It. But no; on the menu today, we have bush. A 2013 survey revealed that during her lifetime, the average woman spends $15,000 and the equivalent of four months of their lives removing unwanted body hair. 77% of people surveyed in a Massive poll revealed that they groom their downstairs on the reg. Pubic maintenance has changed a lot over the years, however the social stigma around pubes and how to wear them has persisted. Massive decided to take a journey through our pubic past, in an attempt to demystify our present preferences and what all of this means for women today. 

The long and tangled history of pube-removal can be traced back for millennia. An image of a hairless vulva carved onto a cave wall in 35,000 B.C. is one of the first known artworks ever created. Ancient Egyptians, Greeks and Romans all tended to their hedges with a variety of tools including pumice stones, flints and early forms of hair removal creams. Across these cultures, it was generally considered that the less you have, the more civilized you were. By the Middle Ages however (possibly due to the shaven look becoming favoured by sex workers), shag rugs made a comeback for the ‘well mannered’ woman. Unfortunately, due to pervasiveness of pubic lice during the fifteenth century, this trend would prove particularly disastrous to uphold. In a desperate attempt to rid themselves of their unwelcome guests, many women would resort to shaving. Sweet relief would be short lived. Many would gaze down to their now-hairless pudenda only to see sores caused by syphilis and gonorrhoea. Fuck me, what a conundrum. To solve their problems, many women started donning merkins: fluffy wigs to cover their sores and flaunt their ‘sexual sophistication’. Talk about two birds with one stone. 

Despite the ebbs and flows of pubic trends over the centuries, the art world almost exclusively depicted women as having hairless vulvas right up until the twentieth century. It’s a bit unclear as to whether these portrayals are a reflection of real female grooming habits, or rather perverse painters caught up in their own fucked up ideals of purity. Take famed Victorian art critic John Ruskin for example. After spending his entire adult life gazing upon painted pictures of prepubescent pussies, he was horrified on the night of his wedding to find himself staring down the barrel of a full-blown bush. Such was his repulsion, that he and his wife’s short-lived marriage went unconsummated. 

Fast forward a few hundred years, to 1915, when women’s fashion was featuring more and more skin, King Camp Gilette realised there was a tonne of money to be made if he could convince women that body hair was something to be ashamed of. He was right. It was this moment that would be the catalyst for body hair removal as we know it. I doubt it comes as a surprise to hear that the guilt and shame surrounding female body hair today began with a white man and his love of capitalism. 

The hairless revolution would be met with some resistance in the 1970s by a sect of second wave feminists. In 1972, Ms. Magazine featured an article condemning the new shaving norms as an “embodiment of our culture’s preoccupation with keeping women in a kind of state of innocence, and denying their visceral selves”. Another faction of second-wavers objected to this sentiment, believing that women should not tell other women what to do with their bodies; men have done quite enough of that already, thank you very much. 

But what about our own history? Well, the kōrero tuku iho around Māori body hair is rather elusive. There are stories of wahine offering their pubic hair to Rangi in order to quell a storm when a waka was at sea. This suggests that not only were Māori women unfazed by their pubes, but they were something sacred, worthy of sacrifice. Oh, lord, the sacrilege! Fear not, for Western influence would soon see to that too. 

Today, Western society is slowly starting to embrace choice in the context of pubes. Companies are beginning to pay attention to the changing tides and are increasing representation of hairy women in their advertising accordingly. Billie, an independent razor company, has built its entire brand around celebrating choice, becoming (remarkably) the first brand to actually show female body hair in its razor ads. Celebrities are embracing their pubes too, with Amber Rose, Janelle Monáe, Emma Watson and countless others all getting their body hair out with increasing regularity. 

Have we reached the point where women can let it run wild without fear of shame and rejection? Shit no. Pubic hair still has a long way to go before it reaches full acceptance in Western society. But if you’re reading this hoping to discover the right way to wear your hair down there, I do have an answer for you: however the fuck you want. While it’s good to know how we got to where we are and what forces may be influencing your preferences, there’s no greater statement than taking control of your own body and doing whatever it is that makes you feel comfortable and confident.