It’s fine that you think body hair is gross. There are lots of things I think are gross, too! Like, for example, policing other women’s bodies. That’s gross. It’s none of your business whether or not I want to braid my pit hair or shave the word SPIDERMONKEY into my calf. And, FYI, that is a feminist act, because one of the majorly awful facets of life under the patriarchy is the pervasive idea that women exist to please someone else, that our appearance and our odor and our attitudes and our choices happen to please men, to please society, to land a fella, to be cute. It’s why old men think they can walk up to you and tell you to smile for them, because that’s what you’re there for, right? To be cute for them! It’s why men think they can rape and abuse a woman who steps out of line - she’s asking for it, right? It’s why politicians want to police our choices and our bodies every damn day. And if the fact that I just walked out of my bedroom in a tank top in front of my male roommate even though I haven’t showered or shaved yet today (or, for that matter, starved and toned and shaped myself into Christie Brinkley or whoever the current equivalent is) means that I put some distance between who he thinks I should be and who I am, and between what he thinks women are supposed to be and what women are, then fuck yes, that was a feminist act. Because I don’t exist to please you. I am myself and I am under no obligation to be anyone else.