Words by Molly Likovich | Art by Ida Henrich
You are exactly where you are supposed to be. There is no longer
a day I live in this body, look down at where you grow, and think you unwanted.
You sprout along my calves and shins. You bloom up my belly from the softest
spot of my sex, where you tangle like vines on a Parisian mansion from another
time. I do not hack you or cut you. I do not rip or wax or bleach or pull
or hate you. You grew from me and women need to learn to stop
hating their own creations. Body hair, I am sorry. For the years I called
you ugly. I am sorry for the years I stripped you from my labia lips
so boys and rapists would call me pretty. And to my skin that is soil beds
for the hair to sprout–I am sorry for the bumps, the bleeding and the in-
grown hairs. I am sorry for the doctor’s offices and puffiness I put you
through. I am sorry for the first time I stole the hair from your
cells. When I went against the grain like I did on my legs.
When I crumpled in itchy, burning pain on my sister’s bed so the girls
in the gym locker room wouldn’t keep calling me dirty. Body hair, you are
beautiful. No shave November, fuck it, no shame whenever. If I ever do
trim you, trust that I’m doing it for me. I’m doing it because I miss
the silk of my skin. Sometimes I just need to know my own naked-
ness. But body hair, you keep growing. You are the prettiest weed. You are
no rose, I won’t ever paint you red. You are not a fetish for men
to gawk at and you are not trash to remove at a man’s command. I have never
laid with a woman. But I know when I do, she will love you same as me.
Because she too will have known what it feels like to be seen as hideous
for simply existing. She too will know that there is only going to be room
for us in this world if we make it ourselves. If we crack the cheap, pink-
taxed plastic, and fight our way to the front of the wreckage. She too will know
that there is nothing uglier and sadder than a body stripped of choice. Of skin
coated with peer pressure. The last guy I fucked said he liked that I wasn’t
shaved. As if I give a shit what he likes. You are here because I want you here.
Because you deserve to be here. I have spent too many days folding into
myself to make space for men. My body is no subway and you don’t need
to hide so his legs can take up two seats’ worth of space. I have plucked
every garden clean of his seed and I want to give that space to you, body hair.
It is my way of saying thank you. Thank you for the day I stopped trimming you
away. The day I stopped shaving you, you gave me so much. So much beautiful
time.
Molly Likovich
Molly Likovich is a nearly 25-year-old bisexual lady with a BA in Creative Writing. Her work has been published in: Boomer Lit, Tattoo Highway, Dreams & Nightmares, The New Mexico Review, Columbia College Literary Review, Bluestem, Rust + Moth, Jenny Magazine, Germ Magazine, and The Scarab. She is also the founder and editor of the e-zine, The Elephant Ladder.
Ida Henrich
Ida Henrich is a German Cartoonist, Illustrator and Designer based in Scotland. She has worked with award winning publishers, online coaches and magazines. Ida is a graduate of Communication Design at the Glasgow School of Art where she specialised in Illustration. In her own work she explores themes such sex-education, growing up, and women’s experiences. Her comics and illustrations are written for both men and women and aims to start an open dialogue between partners, friends, parents, and children about their one’s own experiences. She believes that Art is a powerful way to make ideas and feelings tangible.
As Arts Editor Ida is responsible for all things visual at Fearless Femme including the correspondence with our visual artists, the design and realisation of the online magazine and the illustration of our amazing cover girls. She will also be creating artwork for some of our articles, poems and stories.
Ida loves her coffee in the morning, that feeling after finishing an illustration and going for a run in the (Scottish) sun; and pilates on the rainy days. Ida enjoys SciFi books and autobiographies, and autobiographical comics. She is always delighted to meet new people on trains but is also smitten being home alone colouring in an illustration that she has made way to intricate while listening to Woman’s Hour. You can contact her at ida@fearlessly.co.uk.
