ASD

Shaving daily used to be the norm for me. Like many women the moment my first not-peach-fuzz hair appeared, it was swiftly removed. I was indirectly taught that it was something to be ashamed of, to always hide or erase. Though there was some excitement at first, after all I got a present; a hot pink electric razor. But as I’ve gotten older and started stepping into my identity as a queer autistic woman, I’ve stopped shaving.

1. Sensory Nightmare

Shaving felt like hell. I was constantly itchy, scratchy, had ingrown hairs, cuts, razor bumps, and even hives. I tried out different shaving products, but I quickly developed sensitivities and allergies to them. No razor, electric or not, seemed to work for me. At the same time, all these negatives inputs were amplified from me having autistic burnout.

2. More Energy

As someone who can struggle to scrape the energy together to brush my teeth, shaving is just one more things to do. Doing less means I have more energy to do what’s important to me. Not shaving also increases my emotional capacity because of the reduction in sensory discomfort.

3. Saves Time

Similar to above, doing less means I have more time to do what I need to do.

4. Saves Money

As someone with a ton of hobbies, I appreciate having extra money around.

5. Affirms My Identity

Not shaving also affirms my identity. It validates and accommodates my needs as an autistic person, as well as my identity as a queer woman.

I don’t shave at all anymore. I also didn’t stop shaving cold turkey. I purchased a men’s electric razor with a trimmer, and just kept my hair very short. Over time I’ve grown more comfortable and usually just leave my hair alone. Though I do admit I will trim it down for formal dress occasions, or wear clothes that conceal it. I’m not saying removing your body hair is good or bad. I’m just saying it’s not for me, but if you want to go for it! Do what feels good for you. For me, not shaving is mainly a sensory accommodation.

There’s this thing I call “The Look”.

It’s a certain way people have looked at me since I was a child; and still sometimes do. It usually happens when I’m in a social interaction and I “mess up”.

By mess up, I mean I do/don’t do something neurotypicals aren’t/are expecting. Basically, my Autism is showing.

It’s the look I get when someone is done socialising with me and is waiting for me to break it off, but I don’t know how. Or when someone expects me to return small talk, but I can’t figure out what to say.

They’re often smiling, but the smile feels false, forced, and uncomfortable. Occasionally they are visibly taken aback. And their eyes, they are not smiling. Sometimes its brief, they adjust and quickly conceal it.

Very rarely this look has the quality of a predator, that has just identified new prey. It’s like they’ve detected a disturbance in the atmosphere; they’ve discovered an imposter. Aka an Autistic gal masking, just trying to fit in and feel comfortable.

I get it a lot less when I’m unmasked, because I’m not hiding anything. Instead of being anxious from slipping up, and somehow violating the secret social laws of the neurotypicals, I’m just me. And if I’m with the right people, unmasking and being my delightful self is very rewarding.

It’s how I’ve found true friends.

My Neurospicy Soup

5 Reasons I Don’t Remove my Body Hair (as an Autistic Queer Woman)