The Bush is Back: Pubic Hair, Porn, and the Politics of Being Bare

Once upon a time, the “bush” was just part of being a woman. No one wrote think pieces about it, no beauty salons advertised Brazilian waxes, and no teenage girl panicked because she didn’t look like the women in men’s magazines. Pubic hair was simply… there.

Fast-forward to the late 20th and early 21st centuries, and porn, fashion, and pop culture have reshaped the conversation entirely. Today, bare vulvas are often presented as the default, while anything resembling a bush can be labelled “unhygienic,” “ugly,” or “outdated.”

But feminism has entered the chat. More women are asking: if I shave, is it because I want to — or because I’ve been told I should? Is being bare a personal choice, or is it a performance shaped by the male gaze? And could refusing to shave actually be a small but meaningful act of feminist rebellion?

Let’s explore where this pressure to go bare came from, what pubic hair is actually for, and whether our choices below the belt can truly be feminist.

The History of Pubic Hair Removal

Pubic hair removal isn’t new. Ancient Egyptians are often credited with starting the trend, using pumice stones, beeswax, and even seashells to scrape or pluck hair away. The idea was partly aesthetic but also tied to cleanliness in hot climates.

In Ancient Rome, pubic hair removal signified social status — wealthy women and men used tweezers or razors, while statues of goddesses were depicted smooth. In parts of the Middle East, traditions of waxing have existed for centuries, linked to ritual purification.

But Western culture didn’t truly obsess over the “bare look” until the 20th century. The bikini’s invention in 1946 forced women to think about trimming, and the sexual revolution of the 1960s–70s began to associate the bush with sexual freedom. Feminist art of the era often celebrated pubic hair as a visual rejection of patriarchal beauty standards.

Then came porn. By the 1990s, the mainstream porn industry increasingly presented bare or nearly bare vulvas, both to make genitals more visible on camera and to market “youthful” appearances. This aesthetic seeped into pop culture — think glossy magazines, celebrity interviews, and eventually, reality TV. By the 2000s, the Brazilian wax wasn’t exotic: it was expected.

Pubic Hair: What’s It Actually For?

Before we decide whether to keep or clear the bush, let’s ask: what’s it even doing there?

Pubic hair has biological functions. It cushions the skin during sex, reducing friction. It helps wick away sweat and prevents bacteria from entering the vagina. It also acts as a pheromone diffuser — the hair traps and amplifies natural scents linked to attraction.

So while you won’t suddenly contract an infection if you shave, it’s misleading to think of pubic hair as “pointless.” It serves protective and sexual functions. Which makes the cultural push to remove it even more interesting — it’s not about hygiene, it’s about aesthetics.

The Pressure to Go Bare

Porn isn’t the only culprit, but it’s a big one. Studies show that exposure to mainstream porn correlates with women feeling increased pressure to remove pubic hair. Surveys of young women in Britain, the US, and Australia consistently find that the majority remove at least some or all of their pubic hair, often citing “it looks better” or “men expect it” as reasons.

But this isn’t just about sex. Beauty and wellness industries capitalise on insecurity by marketing razors, waxing strips, creams, and even laser treatments as essential. Smoothness is presented as both aspirational and professional — as if a bush were not only unfashionable, but a moral failing.

And here’s the kicker: men rarely face the same pressure. While the “manscaping” trend exists, men’s pubic hair is generally considered optional, not compulsory. A hairy man is “rugged,” a hairy woman is “lazy.” This double standard reveals that pubic hair isn’t just a grooming preference — it’s a gendered expectation.

Is Being Bare Anti-Feminist?

Here’s the million-pound question: if you shave or wax, are you betraying the sisterhood?

Not necessarily. Feminism at its best is about choice. Some women genuinely prefer the sensation of being hairless. Others feel more comfortable or more confident in bed when they’re bare. These choices aren’t inherently anti-feminist.

But — and it’s an important but — we can’t pretend our choices exist in a vacuum. If 90% of women feel they have to shave to be considered attractive, is that really a free choice? Or is it cultural coercion wrapped up as “personal preference”?

The feminist critique isn’t about attacking women who shave. It’s about interrogating why so many of us feel uncomfortable with the natural state of our bodies. If you shave because you’ve been conditioned to see hair as dirty, that conditioning comes from patriarchal beauty norms.

So maybe the answer is this: shaving isn’t anti-feminist, but failing to question why we shave might be.

The Politics of the Bush

Reclaiming the bush can be quietly radical. Pubic hair becomes political when it defies a standard that says women must constantly alter themselves to be acceptable.

In the 2010s, there was a minor resurgence of the bush in fashion and media. Celebrities like Lady Gaga and Miley Cyrus used art and photography to celebrate pubic hair. Feminist writers argued for the return of the bush as an act of resistance. Even fashion magazines began cautiously asking whether “the bush was back.”

But mainstream acceptance still lags behind. In heterosexual contexts especially, many men raised on bare porn still react with surprise — or even disgust — when faced with natural pubic hair. Which raises a crucial point: if your partner can’t cope with your bush, the issue isn’t your grooming habits — it’s their immaturity.

Hygiene Myths and Fear Tactics

One of the most common justifications for hair removal is hygiene. Waxing salons often imply that being bare is “cleaner.” Yet there’s no scientific evidence to back this up. If anything, shaving and waxing increase risks of ingrown hairs, irritation, and small cuts that can make infections more likely.

Meanwhile, pubic hair itself is not unhygienic. Washing regularly with water (not harsh soaps) is perfectly adequate. In fact, labelling hair as dirty reinforces harmful stigma, making women feel ashamed of perfectly natural bodies.

This hygiene myth is telling: it shows how deeply capitalist marketing and patriarchal beauty norms intersect. A woman with a bush is portrayed as “unkempt,” not because it’s unhealthy, but because it’s unprofitable.

Humour in the Hair

We can’t have this conversation without a little humour. After all, pubic hair has inspired some truly creative cultural moments. From the sitcom Sex and the City to modern feminist memes, the bush has been the butt of many jokes.

Waxing horror stories abound, from women stuck to salon bedsheets to the infamous “one stray strip left behind.” And who hasn’t had the panic of shaving before a date, only to end up with razor burn so fierce you walk like you’ve ridden a horse for three days?

Humour helps soften the taboo — because laughing about the bush makes it less about shame and more about shared experience.

Conclusion: To Shave or Not to Shave?

So, is being bare anti-feminist? Not on its own. What matters is intention, awareness, and self-respect. Shaving because it feels good? Fine. Shaving because you fear rejection if you don’t? That’s where feminism nudges us to ask harder questions.

The bush isn’t just hair. It’s a symbol of bodily autonomy, cultural expectation, and even political resistance. Whether you wax, trim, or let it grow wild, the key is that the decision feels authentically yours.

Perhaps the most feminist thing of all is to stop worrying so much about what’s “right” or “wrong” and instead reclaim pleasure, comfort, and choice — hairy or not.

After all, the bush isn’t dirty. It’s history, biology, and rebellion rolled into one. And if anyone doesn’t like that? Tell them the bush is back, and it’s not asking for their permission.