Hair Removal: Unpacking the Racist Origins of a Common Practice

Introduction

Hair removal is a practice many of us engage in—whether it’s shaving, waxing, or more permanent solutions like laser hair removal and electrolysis. For trans women, trans-feminine adults, and nonbinary individuals, hair removal can be an essential part of aligning with our gender identity. The relief we feel from unwanted facial or body hair is deeply personal. Many of us invest considerable time and money into procedures like electrolysis, which often involve multiple, costly sessions to achieve our desired results. The pursuit of smooth skin, for some, is tied directly to euphoria, to comfort in our bodies, and to a deeper connection with our sense of self.

But as we move through these journeys, it’s essential to reflect on the historical and cultural forces that have shaped our relationship with body hair. Why has smooth skin become such a powerful marker of beauty and femininity? Where does this urgency to remove hair come from, and how does it intersect with our lived experiences as trans* and queer individuals? What’s more, how have these standards been informed by broader systems of oppression, including colonialism and racism?

These questions don’t have simple answers, but understanding the roots of these beauty practices can empower us to approach hair removal with greater awareness and agency. Many don’t realize that the modern practice of hair removal is deeply intertwined with colonial histories and Eurocentric beauty standards. In this post, I want to explore how these standards were shaped by a history of racial “othering”—specifically, how hair removal was used to distinguish between “civilized” European bodies and racialized “others.” This is not a discussion about shaming or discouraging anyone from removing hair; it’s an invitation to develop a deeper understanding of the power dynamics behind a practice many of us take for granted. For those of us who continue to navigate systems of oppression, this awareness can offer another layer of self-compassion and insight into our personal grooming rituals.

The Colonial and Racialized Roots of Hair Removal

Historically, hair removal was far more than a beauty ritual; it was a marker of supposed “civilization”—specifically Euro-American civilization. As Rebecca Herzig details in Plucked: A History of Hair Removal, European colonists viewed body hair as a trait of so-called “savage” peoples, particularly Indigenous communities in the Americas. European colonists, who were invested in constructing themselves as the embodiment of “civilization” and “purity,” saw Indigenous peoples’ lack of visible body hair as both fascinating and alien. Thomas Jefferson, in his writings, even speculated about whether Indigenous peoples naturally had less body hair or if they deliberately removed it. This curiosity, however, was not innocent—it served to reinforce colonial dominance and justify the forced assimilation of Indigenous peoples, positioning them as “other” and inferior based on their physical traits (Herzig, 2015).

The presence or absence of body hair thus became deeply racialized. European settlers began associating smooth, hairless skin with civility, femininity, and whiteness, while body hair was linked to savagery, impurity, and the racial “other.” This dichotomy not only shaped colonialist attitudes but also laid the groundwork for Western beauty standards that continue to prevail today. By the early 20th century, hair removal practices were being aggressively marketed to women, framed as essential for maintaining femininity and cleanliness. But these standards of beauty were never neutral—they were formed against a backdrop of white supremacy and colonialism. Smooth skin was not just a matter of aesthetics; it was about conforming to an ideal that rejected the natural features of non-white bodies, reinforcing a racial hierarchy where whiteness was seen as the pinnacle of beauty and civility (Herzig, 2015).

For trans women and trans-feminine individuals like myself, these colonial beauty standards add another layer of complexity to our experiences. While hair removal may be a deeply personal and affirming practice, especially for those of us seeking gender euphoria or relief from dysphoria, it’s important to recognize that the desire for smooth skin is also rooted in a history of racialized beauty ideals. These standards, which have been shaped by colonial efforts to “civilize” non-white bodies, continue to influence the ways in which society views beauty, gender, and femininity.

Understanding this history allows us to reclaim hair removal as an intentional and informed choice, rather than one driven solely by societal expectations. We can engage in these practices in ways that align with our identities and personal expressions, while also acknowledging the oppressive systems that shaped these standards in the first place.

Body Hair, Gender Identity, and the Power of Choice

The relationship between body hair and gender identity is complex and deeply personal, especially for those of us who are trans* or nonbinary. For many, hair removal is one of the ways we express our true selves and affirm our gender identity. It can be a vital part of feeling more at home in our bodies, offering a sense of gender euphoria and relief from the discomfort of dysphoria. However, it’s important to consider how much of this pursuit is influenced by external pressures rooted in systemic oppression, and how we might reclaim these practices in a way that aligns with our authentic selves.

As a psychotherapist, I often work with clients who feel the emotional and financial burden of hair removal. Procedures like electrolysis and laser hair removal, particularly for the face and body, are often seen as non-negotiable aspects of gender affirmation. These treatments can be crucial to well-being and mental health, yet they come at great cost—financially, emotionally, and even physically. For many of us, these efforts are not just cosmetic; they are intertwined with how we navigate the world as trans or nonbinary individuals. The pressure to present in a certain way is pervasive, and the exhaustion that comes with chasing an ideal of smooth, hairless skin often feels relentless.

But this pressure doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It is deeply connected to Eurocentric beauty standards that have, for centuries, equated smooth skin with civility, femininity, and whiteness. These standards, rooted in colonialism, have long dictated what bodies should look like, prioritizing hairlessness as a marker of being “civilized” or “proper” while associating body hair with savagery and racial “otherness” (Herzig, 2015). For many of us, especially those whose gender identity does not conform to binary expectations, these beauty standards create an additional layer of pressure to conform—not just to gender norms, but to racialized ideals of what it means to be acceptable or “beautiful.”

That doesn’t mean we should stop removing hair, nor does it mean that our choices are invalid. What I advocate for is a deeper understanding of the forces that shape these standards, allowing us to reclaim these practices in a way that feels empowering. When we understand that the smooth, hairless skin many of us strive for was historically used to separate “civilized” bodies from “savage” ones, we can begin to question why these ideals hold so much power in our lives. It’s not about abandoning the practices we rely on for affirmation, but about making more informed and conscious choices about our bodies and beauty routines.

In therapy, I encourage my clients to explore the reasons and beliefs behind their choices. What would it feel like to make these decisions for yourself, outside of societal expectations? How does it change your relationship with your body if you view these practices as acts of self-care, rather than obligations to conform? By shifting the focus away from external pressures, we can begin to reclaim our bodies on our own terms—whether that means continuing with hair removal or redefining what beauty means for us individually.

When we engage in these practices with awareness, we are exercising agency. We can hold space for the reality that hair removal might be both a necessity for our well-being and a practice influenced by oppressive systems. Recognizing this allows us to navigate our relationship with body hair in a way that feels authentic, compassionate, and rooted in self-empowerment.

Reclaiming Hair Removal: Empowering Personal Choice

In today’s world, hair removal remains a practice that many of us continue to engage in as a form of self-expression and self-care. For trans women, trans-feminine, and nonbinary individuals, it often goes beyond aesthetics—it can be about aligning our bodies with our gender identity, finding comfort in our skin, or experiencing a sense of gender euphoria. For some, removing body hair is about feeling more feminine, while for others, it provides relief from dysphoria. Whatever the motivation, these practices can feel deeply empowering, especially when they help us affirm who we are.

However, acknowledging the colonial and racist origins of these beauty standards opens up space for a more critical reflection. Understanding that hair removal was historically used to enforce ideals of whiteness and femininity allows us to question why these standards persist, and how they impact us today. We are not merely participating in a benign beauty ritual; we are engaging with practices that have been shaped by centuries of systemic oppression. But rather than rejecting these practices altogether, we can reclaim them as personal choices rather than societal mandates.

In therapy, I often work with trans and nonbinary clients to navigate the complexities of their relationship with their bodies. For some, hair removal represents an act of defiance against rigid gender norms and the pressures to conform to societal expectations. It becomes a way of taking back control—of saying, “I choose what feels right for me.” For others, it’s a deeply personal way of navigating dysphoria. These clients describe how the absence of body hair helps them feel more at ease, more aligned with their true self.

The key lies in approaching these practices with an awareness of their broader context while also honouring our individual needs and desires. By recognizing that these beauty standards were once used to separate “civilized” bodies from “savage” ones, we can confront the pressures to conform and choose to engage in these practices on our own terms. We get to decide how, when, and why we remove hair—not because society demands it, but because it serves us in ways that feel meaningful.

In therapy, this awareness helps clients develop a more intentional relationship with their bodies. Together, we explore questions like: What does hair removal mean for you? Is it tied to your gender expression, or perhaps to a desire for comfort in your own skin? How do you feel about the financial and emotional investment that goes into hair removal? These questions aren’t about casting judgment but about empowering clients to make decisions that feel authentic to them. By reframing hair removal as a choice rather than an obligation, we can reclaim the practice and create space for self-compassion and agency.

Reclaiming hair removal in this way allows us to shift from external pressures to internal validation. We are no longer conforming to a colonial standard of beauty, but engaging in self-care practices that support our mental and emotional well-being. When approached mindfully, hair removal can be both an empowering act of self-expression and a way to honour our bodies on our own terms.

Conclusion: Reclaiming Hair Removal with Intention

Hair removal is not just a personal choice—it’s a practice shaped by centuries of colonialism, racism, and systemic oppression. For many of us in the trans and queer communities, hair removal plays a significant role in affirming our identities, helping us feel more aligned with our gender expression and at home in our bodies. But as we engage in these practices, it’s essential to understand the deeper historical forces that have shaped the beauty standards we now navigate.

Acknowledging this history doesn’t mean we need to abandon hair removal. Instead, it allows us to approach it with greater awareness, intention, and a sense of agency. When we understand that these standards were once used to uphold oppressive systems, we can choose to engage in hair removal on our own terms—free from the colonial ideals that once dictated what beauty should look like. In reclaiming these practices, we honour our identities, making choices that serve us in ways that feel authentic, empowering, and aligned with who we are.

Let’s Continue the Conversation

If these ideas resonate with you, I warmly invite you to connect with me. Whether you’re a therapist seeking guidance on gender-affirming care, or someone navigating your own relationship with hair removal and looking for support, I’m here to help. You can book individual therapy sessions or peer consultations. Be sure to bookmark the blog for future insights, reflections, and updates.

Reference

Herzig, R. M. (2015). Plucked: A History of Hair Removal. New York University Press.