---

I didn’t think much about pubic hair until I had an excuse to stop thinking about it. In early 2020, at the start of lockdown, I quit trimming. I was living alone, the extra fuzz didn’t bother me, and it wasn’t getting in anyone else’s way—why bother pruning? Around the same time, I also happened to be getting more comfortable with taking and sharing photos of my body: since we couldn’t get naked together IRL, the pandemic emboldened many lonely gays like me to test how much skin we could get away with showing each other on the internet. A few acquaintances commented, “Nice bush.” I thanked them but really wanted to ask, “What do you mean?”

It had never occurred to me that other people might share my fascination with this particular type of hair; I assumed it was simply part of my general attraction to everything else happening down there. But then I remembered the rush I felt when I first saw the whiskers growing around other boys’ waistbands in my middle school gym glass, or when I saw the otherwise smooth-bodied men proudly displaying their hirsute groins in the George Platt Lynes photographs and old physique magazines my gay uncle collected.

Clearly something is uniquely compelling about pubic hair—but what? I decided to survey some Natural Pursuits readers, many of whom enthusiastically contribute to the magazine’s semi-regular “bush threads” on Twitter. Here, interwoven with my own pubic feelings, are some of the 180(!) responses we received.

What do we do with our natural pubic hair?

Even after I relinquished my clippers, I still kept up some semi-regular maintenance for a while, just to feel something. Now I let it all grow unchecked—not out of laziness, but simply because I prefer it that way (the more, the merrier). I’m among the majority (53.3%) of survey respondents who trim “not at all,” while others trim “lightly” (29.4%), “moderately” (12.2%), or “significantly” (5%), though I’m among the minority (only 27.8%) who reported having a grooming regimen.

Based on the data and my own anecdotal observations, I think it’s safe to say that untamed pubic hair is having a moment. (One of my favorite fashion commentators recently noted that “pubes are the hottest fashion accessory.”) There’s even a trendy pubic hair oil for which I’ve started receiving targeted ads (the algorithm knows me too well). For now, I’m sticking with my lower-maintenance routine: conditioner in the shower, then a bit of lotion after drying off. If I’m going to keep all my fur, I figure I might as well make sure it looks and feels and smells good.

How do we talk about pubic hair?

I confess that I don’t love to say “bush” nearly as much as I love to think about it. It’s one of those words, as “moist” is for many people, that makes me cringe for no good reason; I find it a little cheesy and pornographic, plus it always reminds me of a certain political family. But then “pubic hair” sounds too clinical, and the diminutive “pubes” can seem hokey. “Fur” is nice, though not specific enough. One friend of mine suggested “bouquet,” which I love, though it’s a bit florid (literally). We don’t even have a great emoji; the best option is a deciduous tree (🌳). So what should I say?

Several folks expressed similar frustrations in their survey answers. (“I’d like better words/slang to describe pubic hair.” “I’m not entirely satisfied with any of the available language.” “I dislike all of [the terms] and try not to talk about this.”) Others seemed indifferent. (“I don’t care what you call it, as long as you have some!”) Yet “bush” was by far the most popular of our respondents’ preferred terms; “pubes” came in second place, and “pubic hair” was a distant third. Botanical words like “forest,” “jungle,” and “nest” also got some love (“cause it’s my natural vegetation”). Some folks prefer to cover the whole region by referring to a “hairy cock,” “hairy crotch,” or “minge” or to lump it all under the umbrella of “body hair” (“I feel like it gives more purpose to my pubes and their contribution to my preferred appearance and energy”).

In some cultures, pubic hair seems to be an inherently embarrassing nuisance. One respondent taught me that it’s called “shame hair” in Japan. And on Twitter, I’ve frequently encountered various forms of the term “pentelho,” a Portuguese obscenity for both a single pubic hair and an annoying boy, though many men seem to own the label “pentelhudo.” Considering all the stigma and squeamishness already out there, I should probably get over myself and quit turning up my nose at a word as innocuous as “bush.”

---

---

How do we feel about our natural pubic hair?

I was raised in a puritanical town where people didn’t talk much about their bodies, so I grew up not knowing how to feel about my hair, pubic or otherwise. Plus, I’ve been a baby-faced and socially buttoned-up boy my whole life, so for a long time I felt at odds with my body’s shaggier parts and tried to hide them: acquaintances kept reading me as a restrained, tidy twink, so I assumed my unruly undergrowth must be “off-brand,” and I felt like a mess every time I struggled to contain myself in a Speedo.

But, as I’ve seen more boys my age—including my fellow otters—embrace their natural hairiness, I’ve learned to do the same, and I’ve stopped caring what strangers on the beach think of my bikini line. Now I love the contrast between my irrepressibly furry body and the clean-cut impression I seem to make when fully clothed. So I wanted to know what other people love about having an abundance of visible pubic hair.

Many survey respondents cited the way it looks, the way it feels, the way it makes them feel, or the desire to attract sexual partners who like pubic hair. Some cited laziness or the unpleasantness of shaving. Others mentioned body acceptance and a sense of pride in the natural, unaltered appearance of one’s own body.

Here are some of their remarks:

“It has always been a fundamental part of who I am.”

“I love the textural landscape it adds to my body.”

“There was recently a ‘scene’ I was partaking in where a Dom shaved off all of my bush. I didn’t think I’d feel too much about it, but I decided I really don’t like the look or feel of being shaved. I really missed the hair! So while my relationship is still pretty neutral, it mattered to me more than I would have thought.”

“It’s ultimately the most positive relationship I’ve consistently had with my body, now that I’m in my late 20s. It was the first sign of puberty for me, and I always liked that it was there throughout my life. I kept it trim as soon as I realized that that would benefit me, but I think it always made me feel cool to have hair on my body to take care of. I actually was pretty surprised as I got older and found that even some of the most feminine men (who I think are fantastic!) had full bushes.”

“It grew on me 😆”

I hope the subject of pubic hair has grown on you, too. Stay tuned for our next installment of this article.

---