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Delhi girl’s poem on body hair is a reality check, and all men should read it

Naina says she is humbled to receive the support and compliments but she wishes more and more men read this and understand the message she is trying to convey.

By: Express Web Desk |
May 5, 2016 9:08:08 pm
Source: Facebook Source: Facebook

Naina Kataria, a 22-year-old Delhi girl, was watching a film with her male friend when a woman’s razor ad appeared in the middle. “Celebrities shouldn’t endorse such products because it sends out a message that one has to buy them to look beautiful,” she told him. That’s when Naina thought why women should remove their body hair to fit into the stereotyped image of beauty and wrote a thought-provoking poem that has has gone viral.

Though, the issue that Naina has raised with her poem is not new and has been a topic of discussion among women worldwide but such interventions are important to keep the fire alive. “He doesn’t know of the hot wax and the laser whose only purpose is to replace your innocent skin with its own brand of womanhood,” she writes in her poem.

Naina says she is humbled to receive the support and compliments but she wishes more and more men read this and understand the message she is trying to convey. “What I observed was that it was women who shared this poem everywhere. The idea was to notify men and grab their attention about what the process of hair removal is like,” she writes.

“Women go through excruciating amounts of pain to look merely presentable, and men don’t even have an idea of what it’s like. So, when I thread my eyebrows and wax almost every part of my body raw, I ought to not believe a man who says that I’m beautiful, because he’s clearly not complimenting me, he’s complimenting all the torturous efforts that I have gone through to match an unsaid yet mandatory standard. I am pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate me the same with bushy eyebrows and hairy legs, which is why his appreciation for my looks is a delusion,” Naina told Vagabomb.

Read her full poem with the perfect image going with it here:

When a man tells me
I’m beautiful
I don’t believe him.
Instead, I relive my days in high school
When no matter how good I was
I was always the girl with a moustache
He doesn’t know what it’s like
to grow up in your maternal family
Where your body is the only one that
Proudly boasts of your father’s X
While your mother’s X sits back and pities
It’s unladylike-ness
He doesn’t know the teenager
Who filled her corners with
Empty consolations of
Being loved for who she was- someday.
He doesn’t know hypocrisy.
He doesn’t know of the world that
tells you to ‘be yourself’
and sells you a fair and lovely shade card
in the same fucking breath
He doesn’t know of the hot wax and the laser
whose only purpose is to
replace your innocent skin
with its own brand of womanhood
He doesn’t know of the veet and the bleach
That uproot your robust hair
in the name of hygiene
Hygiene, which when followed by men
makes them gay and unmanly
He doesn’t know how unruly eyebrows are tamed
and how uni brows die a silent death
All to preserve beauty
And of the torturous miracles that happen
Inside the doors marked
“WOMEN ONLY”
So when a man calls me beautiful
I throw at him, a smile; a smile that remained
After everything the strip pulled away
And I dare him
To wait
Till my hair grows back.

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