A poem on the physical and emotional torment women with hirsutism face.
'Why does everyone see the hair on my face before they see me?'
When the simple act of grooming one’s own body, or not, is politicised.
On the many prejudices and false beauty standards that women grow up with.
It is dangerous to normalise the made-up body, the photoshopped body of social media and magazines.
'I’m exercising my choice,' is what I tell my feminist mind every time I grudgingly sit down to shave. But, who are we kidding?