I stopped shaving my legs; I don't want to be silent

• Why I haven't shaved my legs
• Why I don't shave my legs
• Why I stopped shaving my legs
• Why I no longer shave my legs

These are all titles I considered for this blog post. "Why I haven't shaved my legs" wasn't permanent enough. "Why I don't shave my legs" would have been a good title, but I was afraid of the permanence of saying that. Ironic.
The question: why, as my mom put it, am I "going natural"?

• To spite society, convention, and male/female double standards 
• And yet, I have not yet dared to stop shaving under my arms...and I know why. Armpit hair is more noticeable and makes a larger statement than legs with hair growing on them.
• I discovered that I didn't need to shave in order for a male to be attracted to me
• I don't want...to feel like I need to shave my legs to please someone else
• I know several very cool women who do not shave their legs. They seem happy and comfortable with themselves and their bodies, which I both admire and aspire to.

Consequences:

• I feel like I get weird looks, or did initially, from other people, like they are judging me for not conforming to the idealized female beauty standard.
•  I fear that other people judge me for having hair on my legs, or I used to. Now that it has been over a month since I last shaved my legs, I feel less self-conscious about it. Looking at me from a distance, you can't even tell that I don't shave.
• Despite this fear, the only person who has asked me about it or said anything about it was my mom.
• My showers are shorter than ever and I save time and lots of water by not shaving.
• I feel more confident in my body, like it's less objectified than before.
• I still have self-doubts. Am I making a good decision by doing this? 

I can be quiet sometimes. A lot of times. All the time. Multiple people have told me that they didn't know how to read me at first, because I was so quiet: at least three co-workers at my summer food-service job have made this exact comment to me. It was baffling to them--what is she really like?

At least one person I went on a date with asked me why I never shared anything with him, my opinions, stories, why I didn't talk much...(It worked well to keep an aura of mystery about me in that case, but do I always want to keep people guessing? Eventually, they stop guessing and fill answer questions with their own assumptions. We only went on one date.) I could say that it takes me a long time to get used to new people, and I wouldn't be lying--it took me almost two months for me to finally feel comfortable around my host family when I studied abroad; it took me just as long to be courageous enough to speak to other students in my university courses in France; I have almost never been very talkative or comfortable around my male bosses, despite some of them being very open and approachable.

What I think I have become, in many of these situations, is silent. Silence is wrong. I, as a strong, independent female human being with thoughts, feelings, and ambitions, should not be silent. I should use my voice everywhere, all the time. I shouldn't wait for other people to ask me what I think and I shouldn't wait for people to tell me what they think. I should be confident and show people just how thoughtful and kooky and intelligent I am. I should just ask for things when I need them, rather than making myself struggle until I fail or explode. I see things and hear things and have opinions on them.

No one ever told me I should be silent. Not that I can think of. Growing up, not talking when the teacher was talking was a sign of respect. The teacher had the authority and the student did not. They said "be quiet," but they were never really addressing me. It doesn't matter: I internalized it. Now, it's different: I'm in a group of peers and none of us are above each other. The people who were never quiet in primary school are now really loud, and the people who were quiet before do not have much of a voice at all. Even professors, in some of my classes, I can tell, feel bad that when I finally raise my hand to say something, there is not enough time for my comment. "She was finally going to say something...What a shame." Guess I waited too long.

It's normal to be afraid, but eventually, I got tired of it. I started talking to the French students in my university classes. I decided to take down the wall I had been building up against other people.

I'm done waiting. I don't have time to wait any more. I don't want to lose my voice. It's time to speak my mind.
Time to speak up.