AN ODE TO BODY HAIR My body, then young and gentle, knew it is fertile ground for forests. Forests of dark hair grow to protect me, and still I am told to get rid of this canopy. That I am not beautiful unless smooth. At school I am made fun of for my moustache, and so I learn the first test of womanhood, the cutting down of these trees as sacrifice to a goddess invented by the patriarchy. She with her smooth skin and long hair, perfect features and hourglass body, curves in all the right places, the woman they demand me to be. No. I will no longer bleach and wax and laser my body to fit into
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