do 8 year olds really need bikini waxes?

According to current research, girls are going through puberty earlier and earlier, with many getting their periods, developing breasts, and growing body hair as young as 7 or 8 years old. Because this is a fairly new phenomenon, scientists are still trying to understand why this is happening, but many suspect hormones in food, diet, and obesity to be key factors. Also the risks these girls may face in later life is still not understood either.

Here is one, of many articles, on this growing public health concern.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/38600414/ns/health-kids_and_parenting/

Currently, to help "deal" with the body hair "issue" that these young girls are facing, salons have started offering waxing services for the tweens set and girls as young as 8 years old are getting their pubes waxed. There are even discounts for "virgin hair". I just threw up a little in my mouth after I typed this.

Let's back up for a minute: When I was in middle school, I thought my underarm hair was out of control. I used a depilatory similar to Nair and broke out in this itchy painful blistering rash. It was so bad I had to go to my pediatrician and get it looked at. It hurt so fucking bad. My doctor, who's known me since I was 2, wanted to know why I wanted my hair to be gone. I told him that I didn't like it and that I needed it gone and that my friends had theirs gone too. And what if I wanted to wear a bikini one day, I'd need to have no body hair. He just stared at me, puzzled. He told me if I wanted to wear a bikini, which he thought I was way too young for anyway, that I should wear boy shorts, and that hair under my arms was just fine and that my body was doing what it was SUPPOSED TO DO by growing hair. Then he told me to put baking soda under my arms.

Now imagine being 8 years old. Imagine not knowing anything about puberty or growing up and then you look down one day and see hair on your vagina. It's interesting. Slightly scary. But also fascinating. And then imagine someone telling you this is gross, and taking you somewhere and letting some stranger put hot wax on your little 8 year old vagina and ripping the hair off. Have you ever had your pubes waxed? Me either, but that shit hurts. Or imagine growing up thinking that body hair is disgusting, and seeing the other women in your family without any, and feeling ashamed because you have some growing on your vagina, upper lip, arms, or on your legs. It's confusing to me and I am 28. I have no idea what to "do with my pubes" but I am adult. I am not 8 years old.

Here is something to consider: Who is looking at an 8 year olds pubes anyway? Who is concerned with this? And why? Parents why are you forcing your daughters to endure this humiliation and pain at such an early age? Girls, who told you this was ok? Waxers, what the fuck are you doing making money off of girls like this and making them think that they are not ok as they are?

MORE:

Too young? Preteen girls get leg, bikini waxes

Tweens and bikini waxes-- trend, hype or just another excuse to call 'bad mom'?

How many 8-year olds have to get bikini waxes before we all agree the terrorists have won?

An example of a salon's "virgin hair" special

mother issues

My mom is on facebook and we are friends. I know that's weird for some people and some of my friends aren't "facebook friends" with their mothers, but a whole lot of them are. And you know what? It is weird. Suddenly, a whole lot of the secrets I have worked so hard to keep from my mama are right there in her face and accessible to her and the rest of my entire family, who is also on facebook. I feel like I am an embarrassment to her, to them, to everyone.

I am not one of those people who logs on and writes about what they ate for dinner and what they think of the too hot or too cold weather. I write how I feel, what I did last night, how much I drank, screaming matches I got in, and my boyfriend whom I adore. There are pictures, there are my friends comments, and there are my own responses. I often wonder what my mom thinks of this. I ask her, she says, "I am way too busy doing my own stuff, I don't follow you that carefully".

And then I think about all the stuff she has no idea about. I want her to be like other people's mother's. I want her to "get me," to be proud of the things I have done, to talk about me, to visit me when I am far away, to know my writing, to know what I do everyday, to follow me more closely. I feel like a stranger to my whole family. I moved to a whole other state, many of them don't know. They never knew I was pregnant, married, divorced, a grad student. Most of them think my name is "Nana" and most of them have no idea how to say my son's middle name (is it really that hard?).

I want to discuss books with my mother, to take her to the spa, to paint with her, to dance with her, to show her where I stayed in Kenya, to show her where my son's family comes from. She is always too busy for me. Always. Not just sometimes, all the time. It hurts me.

When you are 28, people automatically assume you don't need your mother as much as you did when you were 8, but you do. Maybe more. Life never stops being difficult and mothers are so incredibly good at figuring things out. I miss her. I need her. I hope these little peeks into my life via facebook make her realize how much she is indeed missing, how much she doesn't know, how much I screw things up because I don't have her to help me.

girl fight

Before I show you this video I want to tell you how graphic and violent it is. These women are pregnant, they are fighting each other, other people are watching, cheering them on even, and it's very disturbing. This video is going to make you angry, but it happened last week. It's a little long, so if you want, you can just skip to the fighting scenes. After watching it, we'll talk.

Ok, I know that was tragic. I've been pregnant before. I know how vulnerable and alone and big and sad being pregnant is. I know how angry people can make you get, and I will admit to having screamed at a girl at a party when I was 2 months pregnant with my son. I seriously could have went there with her, but my son's dad, picked me up and got me out of there. Not my finest hour.

We are women. We are not supposed to fight each other. Period. There are no exceptions to this rule. Nothing is worth fighting another girl over. At my internship, four girls "jumped" a fifth girl, at least 10 people watched, not doing anything, not calling anyone, not helping. The four girls were STAFF. Other people watching the fight were JUNIOR STAFF. Someone taped it. Our cameras caught it. They saw the knife, they saw who was fighting, and people were fired. This is a COMMUNITY CENTER. These staff work with children. It's sad. Maybe I have said too much already. I'll be quiet about my work now.

Things to Consider

1. A lot of men think girl-fighting is sexy. They get off on watching you fight other women. They want you to fight in jello, in pudding, in a kiddie pool full of noodles, on the street, in a bikini covered in oil. Don't do it.

2. A whole lot of girl fights are over words, or men. Men are not worth fighting over. They're just not. The thing about men is they LIE. There will be times when you didn't realize someone was married or had a girlfriend because he didn't tell you and his female partner, instead of getting mad at him, will come at you. This is stupid. Don't do it.

3. It's selfish to fight when you're pregnant. Your baby gets stressed out. It's still growing. It could get hurt, it could die. Don't do it.

4. If you do get in a fight or someone "jumps" you, most people won't help you. They will stand there and watch, they will go get some popcorn, they will pull out their camera phone, even if you are on the floor dying, nope, not gonna help you. Sometimes even the police.

5. And finally, it's a crime. You will just go to jail, where you will get in more fights. It's an ugly cycle.

We are women. Of course we make each other mad sometimes, we will disagree, we will have misunderstandings about men, we will not like the tone we take with each other sometimes, but we must never get violent with each other. We have the gift of communication. We should use it to our advantage. We don't have to love each other, but we must not kill each other either. I can't stress that enough. Please don't fight your sisters. And we are all sisters.

Women sometimes want to beat my ass, for a lot of different reasons and they make it extremely clear to me. It's scary. I walk around scared quite a bit actually. It's no way to live. Luckily I haven't been beat up yet, hopefully I never will. I hope you never get beat up either, and if you have, I'm sorry. I know it wasn't your fault. I hope someone helped you. I hope security guards didn't stand there and watch you get your ass beat doing nothing. I hope that feeling of total helplessness fades with time. I hope you don't live in fear of other women, like I do sometimes.

-lamesha

What I'm listening to- The Noisettes

It's been some time since my last entry (I started a new job plus summer classes, and both are kicking my ass), but I forgot to mention in it that we have a new writer here at Grrrl Perspective. Her name is LaMesha, and she is responsible for the last few fun and insightful posts we've had. I'm really excited to have her on board with us, and feel that she is going to (and already has) bring something new and fresh to the table with her witty and down-to-earth entries. You can find out more about LaMesha in our 'About Us' section here.

Anyways, I have this secret love for British garage-rock that my boyfriend always makes fun of me for. Therefor, I wish I started listening to the band The Noisettes sooner. I just recently found out about them and fell in love with their unique sound. They are an indie/garage-rock band from London comprised of singer and bassist Shingai Shoniwa, guitarist Dan Smith, and drummer Jamie Morrison. They have been around since 1996 and are pretty popular in the UK. 

Their frontwoman, Shingai, is amazing. Her voice is beyond captivating, and she brings some serious power and energy to the music that I can't even explain in words, you just have to listen to it/see it for yourself. Not to mention her stage presence is out of this world; basically, the chick fucking rocks! Even though The Noisettes are primarily an indie/garage-rock band, they experiment with a ton of different sounds in their albums; everything from punk, to swing, to soul, and much more. They are great musicians and definitely worth a listen.

"We've come to clean up the landscape and get rid of the male-dominated indie landfill" 

Their official website
Their myspace

5 feminist conversations i'm over

I have issues with "feminism" and somedays I am definitely 100% radical feminist and other days, I'm definitely over it. I did the women's studies degree, wrote the papers, marched at "take back the night," had the midwife when I was pregnant, etc etc etc. But now here I am writing for a feminist blog about feminist issues. I know right? What the hell am I doing? The few blogs that I've done so far have been "lamesha light," my attempt at making a good impression and not pissing off a whole bunch of people I don't even know. I don't want to insult you by writing about shit you already do and know about (washable pads, consent, etc) which I think is a little overdone. So today, for the first time, I'm going to attempt to go hardcore and write about the stupid shit I see and hear in my "feminist life" that piss me the fuck off. Hopefully you won't be offended, but if you are, I don't care. LOL

1. Chris Brown hating. We know he beat Rihanna's ass. How many years ago was that? He's done everything he has to do legal wise, and is trying to go back to work. Are we just supposed to hate him the rest of his life for something he did as a teenager? How long are we supposed to watch him squirm? He's 21, so what 60 more years? Have you ever got in a fight with someone? I know assault isn't right and hitting women is a sin but let's not forget Snoop's murder trial, R Kelly peeing on some little girl and videotaping it, Michael Jackson and those little boys, Woody Allen marrying his own daughter, John Mayer's racist dick in Playboy and overtime, those men have still prospered and everyone loves them. We don't even talk about this anymore, but Chris Brown you think should rot in hell? Let that shit go. That nigga is sorry. It's not good to spend so much time worrying about celebrities anyway.

2. "How can we get more women of color to come to our white girl feminist functions? They must not care about these issues..." and "Why aren't more women of color breastfeeding or marching or making zines?" I could go at the this one several different ways. First I am not a woman of color. I'm black. African American. Voodoo priestess. Shawty. But I refuse to be lumped in a non-white category with every other non-white woman on Earth. We aren't the minority and we are all very different; making us one category robs us of our culture. And then asking us why we don't come to your white girl feminist parties and speakers? Are you serious? Maybe we need a break from you. There's a million reasons why black and brown people don't embrace "feminism" the way white girls want us to, and I'm not going to list them all here. Just stop asking me about it. I'm not your gateway into black womanhood.

3. "porn oppresses women. prostitution is a crime. both are violence against women". ummm no.

4. We're not "women," we're "womyn/wimmin" (or some other spelling that drives my spellcheck crazy). This is stupid. We all know what you are. You aren't really causing a paradigm shift by spelling your gender differently. You're mostly just being annoying.

5. "Courtney Love. Assuming black and brown women don't like to rock out". Last week Courtney Love made an ass of herself (not the first time) in DC by pulling a black girl on stage and asking, "Do you really like rock music? Because you're African American. That would be like me being into Lil Wayne". Look that shit up. It seriously happened. Then I started thinking about all the girl bands I listen to and yeah most of them are white. I don't hate them, I actually think they're quite good, but yeah they are all white, which doesn't really mean anything, it's just interesting to think about, for a lot of reasons. Black girls rock out hardcore. Can you name 5 black rocker girls? I can't, but there are hundreds of them. I think. When you see us, don't point and stare and pull us on stage. That's seriously fucked up.

6. "Fuck these patriarchal beauty standards". I hear you loud and clear, but women wearing pink and glitter and heels are not the enemy. And believe it or not, a whole bunch of women LIKE wearing that shit. We are not dumb, less feminist or watered down because of it. A long time ago when I was in undergrad I walked up to my feminist friends sitting in the grass and they started talking about my pink backless shirt and how their own clothes weren't so "cutesy," then it got awkward so I left and one of them said "see you later Blossom". Do you remember that show? I loved it. But that's not the point. The point is that my "friend" snuck a little snide comment in front of our all of our other friends simply because I like dressing up. And that was at least 8 years ago and I still remember everything about that day. Feminism is not about laughing at other girls and making them feel insecure. Especially over something as trivial as clothes. Remember you are pro-choice. Respect my choice to wear booty shorts.

And that's it. For now...

go shawty, it's your birthday...

My birthday's on Tuesday. I'll be 28. I don't really feel old and have had a lot of fucked up birthdays so I plan to lay low and just go to work and chill. While I don't really NEED anything it's fun to think about what I would want if given the choice and the opportunity. The thing about getting older and accomplishing shit and making my own money is that damn near everything I'm about to list I am capable of getting myself. That's probably the best gift of all, the gift of self-empowerment.

1. Vegan Vulva Lip Balm, (getting it) http://vulvalovelovely.com/

2. Lady Gaga tickets (too expensive, but not really)

3. Stripper Pole (just ordered from my pole dancing teacher), http://www.xpoleus.com/

4. Kid Cudi (unattainable, but he hasn't met me yet...)

fine. as. hell.

5. pierced nipples, (got them on june 11th). pierced anything else? we'll see

for the record, this is not my nipple.

6. healthy kidneys. i have focal segmental glomerulosclerosis. i'm in remission. that's all i'm gonna say.

7. ntozake shange books (read them, but don't own any).

8. beef ribs. pork ribs. any kind of ribs. there's nothing sexier than a chick knawing on a bone, plus they are fucking delicious. dry rub, saucy, barbecued, smoked, baked in the oven, simmered in the crock pot. i could eat ribs every day.

9. subscription to $pread magazine, (http://www.spreadmagazine.org/)

10. kanye west's self esteem. "In America, they want you to accomplish these great feats, to pull off these David Copperfield-type stunts. You want me to be great, but you don't ever want me to say I'm great?"-Kanye

and that's it. i'm chillin. happy birthday to me.

on being a natural

I had a little garden plot. I bought organic seeds and little tools and set out to teach my son, who would rather be watching tv and eating noodles, about nature. Deep down I probably thought this would be a good opportunity to prove my worth as a mother. I do not knit, I do not sew, I don’t cook dinner every night, I don’t do any of those things that my other mama friends do. I feel like I don’t measure up, and we all know motherhood can be quite the competition. I just wanted to be good at growing something, because I don’t think I am. I didn’t even grow my own child properly, he was early, a tiny little undercooked baby boy, literally cut out of me, because my body couldn’t handle being pregnant anymore. Surely, I could handle a garden.

The thing about having your own child is that they are often very similar to you, whether you like it or not. My son liked going to the store to buy the seeds because like me, he loves shopping. But the dirt digging, the bugs, the worms, the hot sun beating down on his little body? Not so much. I too must admit that I hated it. Not fun, my friends, not fun at all. I told myself that all over the world women work the land, growing crops for their families, tending the Earth, with their kids in tow. I could do this. My son would love it. I would finally have something to talk about in mommy group (I usually just sit around reading Cosmo), while the women knit, nurse babies and talking about their peaceful home births.

I am not one of those mothers. But I want to be. Sometimes. But I want to have better clothes. And shoes.

This morning, I went to my garden. It’s been raining, a tornado or two has passed through my state, my son is on vacation, I have two jobs and two summer school classes and an active social life; all reasons I use for not going to my garden regularly, and it shows. My little seeds have grown, but so has the grass and it’s hard to tell which parts are weeds and which is the plants. So I just left it, all of it, and went back home. All the other gardens are beautiful, the corn stalks are growing, little flowers are blooming, white picket fences are up, and there are no weeds. Someone threw a plastic soda bottle in my garden and I didn’t even pick it up. I just don’t see the point anymore.

And then I realized this: I am not a gardener. I am not like the other mothers. And I have a debit card. I can buy whatever the fuck I want, when I want, and I can keep my toes clean and my kid entertained in the grocery store. I do not knit, I take my buttons to the cleaners to get mended, and I hate digging in the dirt. I’d rather take my kid to shows, the mall, and on airplanes. He prefers to sit around reading magazines and eating cookies and noodles for dinner too. We can play video games for hours, in the house, where there’s a fan, and cold soda to drink. We are city people. Our carrots come in a bag with a twisty tie on them.

I’m a quitter. If things are not going the way I want them to, I am not going to use up all my energy and time trying to make it fit with my life when it simply won’t. That’s not the way my brain operates. Life is too short to be unhappy in situations that you can change. And so as soon as I am done with this blog, I am turning in my tools and letting my apartment managers know that I am done gardening and am going to pay the fine for not weeding my garden at the end of the season. I have two jobs; I can afford the fine. I refuse to be miserable doing something that I hate just to prove a point, to myself, and to my son, who is four states away. He just got a Nintendo DS and honestly doesn’t give a shit about vegetables; he doesn’t even eat them anyway. And I am going to be happy all day, working, climbing the corporate ladder in baby blue high heels and a city-girl skirt, eating perfectly cut baby carrots out of a Ziploc bag in my cubicle, with the AC on. Point proven. Nails clean. Guilt gone. And while I am not going to win any awards for being Minnesota's most natural mother, I am doing what feels natural to me--not gardening.