I had another topic in mind for this
post, but then I chanced upon an article about beards in a Dutch digital
newspaper. Why, the question was, do men sport beards? Since I have had a beard for decades and have
had to endure that question time and again, let me clear the air once and for
all. And although I have a long list of
subjects literally screaming at me for attention, I’m going to self-indulge
today and talk about myself. However, before I get to my own personal reasons,
let’s see or hear the explanations of some “authorities.”
The subject is such an earth-shaking one
that no one less than the BBC entered the fray. Here’s the reference:
So, now you can get the real truth on
the topic from the highest authority! On
this website you will meet British psychologist Tamsin Saxton who, according to Trouw, that Dutch
paper, begins by nixing what is probably the greatest myth, namely that men
expect women to be more attracted to bearded men than to the clean shaven type.
It does not appear to be true. Instead, beards allegedly play more of a role in
competition between males. Both men and women think of the bearded among us as
the more dominant and aggressive. Also beards apparently elevate the status of
their bearers. Instead of a charmer, we bearded ones consider ourselves more of
a dominant fighter, something we allegedly relish
The
article mentioned a number of other British researchers of beards. I don’t feel
the need to mention them all, but one name strikes me as very humorous, if not
hilarious. One who researched British beard fashions between 1842 and 1971 was
called—no, I don’t think you guessed it—Nigel Barber! How appropriate is that!
I am utterly surprised that simple
personal preference has not been accorded a role in all this discussion. Well,
these experts should have called on me. I sport a beard because I happen to
like the looks of a beard. Well, not just any beard. A cultured beard, one that
is taken care of. The wild kind from your sideburns to your navel I abhor and
think ugly, tasteless, whether combed or not. But I have wide tolerance for
cultured and looked-after beards, especially when they’re black, which,
unfortunately, mine is not. So, that is my main reason for having a beard: I
just like the bearded look and dislike the totally clean shaven look.
Closely related to my liking a beard is
my theory that God created us with hair both on top of our heads as well as our
cheeks and chins to give us a chance to be creative with it. Not merely
tolerate your hair and just comb it just to get it out of the way, but to use
it as a personal expression of yourself; a statement, if you like. Let it bring
out your individual self in a creative way. Be a hairy artist!
I have a healthy self-image, but I have
never liked my hair, that is, my top hair, for it is straight and a dull blond.
It does not allow me to do anything creative with it. So I had a perm for some
years, but that apparently reduced my status among my peers as a “wild guy,”
not respectable. That’s when I
discovered that status is important to me, in terms of respect more than pride.
Then, when the price kept increasing, I decided to give it up, but I still kind
of mourn its loss. As a result, my beard has become more precious to me. My
hair just sits there on top, firmly restrained in its rebellious nature by tons
of gel and mouse.
I have three additional reasons for my
beard, none of which seem to have surfaced in the research reports. The first
is a genuinely pious reason. As a child I used to sit on my mother’s lap as she
read from a children’s Bible full of pictures of bearded men—Abraham, Isaac,
Jacob and the rest of them all sported beards. As a child I decided that I
would grow a beard when I grew up to look like these holy venerables and get
used to the beard world that I would undoubtedly meet in the next life, in
Heaven. So, partially to identify with these saints, to honour them; partially
to get myself in psychological shape for the next life.
Secondly, I have an underchin.
Underchins don’t look very nice. So, I hide mine behind a beard! Very simple. No one would know about that
situation if my dear wife would cease telling people about it! But as she relishes
telling people about my underchin, all my friends are aware of it. All my pleas
to her to stop that story are of no avail with her! She just keeps embarrassing me with that
story. By the way, do you recognize any
humour in my telling you this underchin story?
I myself originally came up with this story just to be funny, but her
many repetitions have taken the fun out of it for me! But for the rest, I love
her.
There is a third and last reason for my
beard, particularly its shape: a handlebar and a pointed chintuft. It
apparently gives me a distinguished look not only but also humorous. Here the twain meet: status and humour. I
have a wild sense of humour and love to make people smile—and that’s what my
beard does to people on the street. So many people on the street have negative
facial expressions or just none at all, just blank, but my constellation of
facial hair brings out the smiles and I love that.
Never thought I could write 1000 words
just on the topic of beards! Today, I
did it! And I’m not even finished. Could
tell you a couple of humorous stories on the subject. Alas, a 1000+ is enough
for one day. Hope you enjoyed reading it.
Have a beardy day!
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