This is 22-year-old Delhi-based writer Naina Kataria.
Earlier this week, Kataria uploaded this photo of her leg on Facebook, alongside a poem called "When A Man Tells Me I'm Beautiful," about the policing of women's body hair.
The poem has been shared by more than 6,000 people in 48 hours, and has resonated strongly with several women:
Kataria explained its conception to BuzzFeed:
I went out for a movie with a guy. We were watching this ad about razors for women when I remarked that celebrities shouldn't endorse such products because it sends out a message that one HAS to buy them to look beautiful.
He replied by saying, "OMG you're too much of a feminist."
That made me ponder over two things — one, about the unrealistic standards that we've set for beauty. They keep saying that it's optional, but I believe otherwise because these norms are something that are just ingrained into us.
The second thing that hit me was how much we hide all these things from men. Women go through excruciating amounts of pain to look merely presentable and men don't even have an idea of what it's like.
Read the poem in full here:
When a man tells me I'm beautiful I don't believe him. Instead, I relive my days in high school When no matter how good I was I was always the girl with a moustache He doesn't know what it's like to grow up in your maternal family Where your body is the only one that Proudly boasts of your father's X While your mother's X sits back and pities It's unladylike-ness He doesn't know the teenager Who filled her corners with Empty consolations of Being loved for who she was- someday. He doesn't know hypocrisy. He doesn't know of the world that tells you to 'be yourself' and sells you a fair and lovely shade card in the same fucking breath He doesn't know of the hot wax and the laser whose only purpose is to replace your innocent skin with its own brand of womanhood He doesn't know of the veet and the bleach That uproot your robust hair in the name of hygiene Hygiene, which when followed by men makes them gay and unmanly He doesn't know how unruly eyebrows are tamed and how uni brows die a silent death All to preserve beauty And of the torturous miracles that happen Inside the doors marked "WOMEN ONLY" So when a man calls me beautiful I throw at him, a smile; a smile that remained After everything the strip pulled away And I dare him To wait Till my hair grows back.