The indulgent illusion of gliding silk, comforting horticultural metaphors - these are commonly used images in hair removal adverts. They're necessary because the model is usually depilating an area of her body which is already hairless. Apparently, the sight of female body hair, even in the context of its removal, remains too nauseating to be visualised.
The invisibility of female facial hair operates on an even greater scale. Its stigmatisation means that its physical existence is concealed and discussion of it is usually silenced. We tend to discuss waxing our legs, for example, far more openly than using hair removal creams on our upper lips.
But the majority of women have some kind of hair on their face. Factors like ethnicity and age alter the quantity and quality and in some cases 'excessive' facial hair may be attributed to conditions such as polycystic-ovary syndrome. Currently, though, society dictates that women's bodies from the eyelash down should be hairless. There is a largely accepted convention that women remove this hair which is construed as unfeminine.
Yet whereas body hair need not always be removed - it can be buried underneath clothing - the concealment of facial hair requires constant self-surveillance. For many women, it has become normal to obsess over things that might draw attention to their faces, like lighting, clothing choices and the angle of others facing you
It is easy to say that women should instead embrace their natural bodies and step out head held high and hairy. But in many cases, the burden of having facial hair can have life-damaging consequences concerning relationships with others, life at work, low confidence and self-esteem, and can adversely affect mental well-being. The internet provides a handful of blogs and medical information but there is no open nationwide community and shame, stigma and distrust often stops women from coming forward to talk about their experiences.
When we visualise excessive female facial hair or 'hirsutism', one of the most vivid historical images is that of the Bearded Lady at Victorian 'freak shows'. Up until the beginning of the twentieth century, these women were spectacles of entertainment, as well as medical specimens who were thought to provide the missing link in the evolutionary story of ape to man.
At the turn of the twentieth century the development of endocrinology altered how the medical establishment perceived hirsutism. A hairy female face became symptomatic of aninternal hormonal imbalance or a 'deficient' reproductive system. This was often crudely interpreted as a sign of infertility, and lead to the questioning of the patient's femininity and womanhood.
Some physicians also speculated that hair caused by hormonal imbalance may indicate further psychological disorders including neuroses. Consequently, women with facial hair not only became defeminised but dehumanised: they were presented as madwomen, childless spinsters, eccentric outcasts of society.
Many of these myths from the early twentieth century remain, despite the dispelling of the science which underpins them. They are also sustained by the on-going perception of hair as unhygienic and insanitary, hence the saying "clean shaven": the presence of facial hair signifies not only physical grubbiness but a lack of dignity and psychological disarray triggering the emotional reaction of disgust.
The range of hair removal products and professional services which are available on the high street ensure to a certain degree that hair removal is available to all women (at a price), but does this create anxiety rather than alleviate it? The choice for women currently is not whether or not to remove hair, but in the selection of what method they use to do it.
We need to open up conversations about our differences without allocating shame. In refusing to feel detachment or dislike for our bodies because they do not meet a certain standard, we could challenge social norms.
There is a great need for more visible role models of female body and facial hair to emerge, but likewise it's important we start talking to each other about our facial hair. This way we might start to re-humanise the bearded lady who has been outcast for so long.
If you would like to share your experiences - whether they concern living with excessive hair, experiences of growing older and hair or perspectives on removal methods - and contribute to research on the cultural history of body and facial hair, please get in touch with Laura Cofield ([email protected]) for more information on her project at the University of Sussex.