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"It's taking another entirely normal female characteristic and turning it into a kind of defect that must be "managed", at great cost and time and inconvenience."
I am "against it" too and exactly, because of our daughters. God Bless America and the freedom to self-decorate, it's all jake with me. Except it's not. Consider "exposing your child to music" (symphonies, world, rock, rap, folk, soul, jazz, country, gospel, Gregorian chant, you name it...plus, if you can afford it--lessons). Then your child grows up and chooses your least favorite of all of these. You might not be happy (only wind-up parents are delighted with everything), but you would know you'd given your child a true sense of the richness and variety that's out there.
What bothers me about trends such as shaved vulvas, which seem to me to be derived from Hollywood and porn-ified images of women rather than an earthier sexuality, is that they're beginning to be as ubiquitous as 11 year-olds giving blowjobs to fit in at junior high. I believe the sheer weight of expectations hypnotizes ever-younger females into self-loathing, often so deeply internalized that it can feel like bliss. I "voluntarily" shave my legs and armpits, because I need to earn a living and don't have the moxie right now to fight off the hostility. So I conform, but I carry the worm of resentment. Seeing a 4-year-old anorexic who can't talk about anything except "I won't eat that, it'll make me fat" chilled me to my bones.
Hope it's acceptable to open up the topic. To me, it's all the same. There are two requirements-for-"acceptable/attractive" female appearance about which I've stopped compromising: because of a painful disk I wear only the most comfortable, flat, cushioned, foot-friendly shoes. So at business meetings I'll be suited like everyone else, but it stops at the ankles.
And, free at last, my hair, which has been white since my early 30s. (And for years dyed blonde, red, brown, and a color that does not appear in nature.) Every 3-4 weeks, a miserable task that stank, made my arms ache, and cost a lot. The penny dropped when I began to realize that when I'd look in the mirror and see the widening white roots I'd have a fear reaction. God! I have to cover this up. Quick! I would time social events around having freshly-colored hair, so the illusion would be preserved for one more month, if no one looked closely.
For my 55th birthday my Gift to Self was giving that up. It's now half grown out so it's obvious I've made a choice. For the first few months I'd get anxious or disapproving glances from other women carrying the subtext: "Aren't you neglecting yourself?" or even disapproval, as though my expanding white hair was an offense to hygiene. In that period, I found myself drabbing out to men, becoming less visible, looked at and smiled at less often.
In this stage, the white's won and it's cut attractively. A simple $11 trim once a month that takes 30 minutes. It's a pure blast of white and it shines. I find I'm getting looked at again. Some people look startled and some approving.
Here's an irony: I wear more makeup than I used to, because I have a young-ish face. And I am getting noticed because my hair's a surprise. So am I free of all this stuff? No.
I still wish we could think about the messages we (we, the culture, we the consumers, we the entertained, we the media) are giving children. I think they're folding under the weight...and we could help them instead, by getting them engaged in much, much larger stories. It's "creative" to think of something different to carve into your pubic hair?
...I guess.
I'd rather teach a child to carve a sculpture than starve herself or shave or dye or pluck or wax or tan or spray or spackle or highlight or pay a surgeon to break her nose or cut open her chest and stick bags of water under her breasts or dye her gray hair in shame when that day comes.
