I’m almost 22 years old. Most people would call me an adult at this age. Many would say I’m now a man. How can I be a man, however, if I still can’t grow anything remotely close to a beard?
The only hair formations I can grow on my face are sparse, quilt-like patches and a disgusting medium-bodied mustache reminiscent of the hair seen on the upper lip of female artist Frida Kahlo. Slightly spread thin hair grows on my neck and chin, as if the hair is on a pilgrimage to my face. My face is filled with hairless wastelands and small families of six or seven hairs huddled together. Instead of a lush field of thick Kentucky bluegrass I have a parking lot with a few weeds sticking out of the cracks.
I can’t tell if I should be happy I can at least grow some facial hair as opposed to none at all. I still have to shave, and I guess that’s a manly act, but I hate not having the option to grow it all out. Men shave to keep from growing a beard; I shave to keep from looking adolescently hideous.
When I could first grow legitimate sideburns my senior year of high school, I was nothing less than ecstatic. I now had to shave more than just my mustache area — I had to shave the sides of my face too! I knew I would soon sprout a goatee on my chin, and then soon after that would come the big-daddy full beard.
But the goatee never arrived. Sure, I have some stuff on my chin, but it’s nothing special when you can count all the hairs without much difficulty (112 chin hairs, if you’re interested). A couple hairs even tried to grow on the tip of my nose, not understanding they were desperately needed a little farther south.
I just don’t understand — I have plenty of hair to go around. My eyebrows are thicker than most rain forests, and my neck is grossly fantastic at growing hair. What part of my genetic makeup allows hair to grow everywhere but my gosh-darn face?
What am I going to do if I get lost in the woods or stranded on an island? You don’t see mountain men with checkerboard beards. If you get lost in the wilderness for more than a year and you don’t come back with an awesome beard, no one will take you seriously. Any rescuers would probably assume I contracted some sort of face balding disease while out in no man’s land, or perhaps believe a bear licked off a patch or two.
I think my mixed heritage deserves some of the blame for my follicular handicap. I’m French, German, Irish and Chippewa. Native Americans don’t really grow facial hair, so I think what’s going on is that most of my face is Indian, and some of the other guys fought hard enough to slap a patch of beard hair here or there.
Don’t get me wrong — I’m proud I’m Indian, but I think I would rather have inherited adept tracking skills or warrior-like speed. Hairless spots on my face don’t represent my distinguished heritage in quite the way I would prefer.
I know I’m not the only guy with this problem. I see plenty of dudes out there with patchy faces. All I can say is that I feel your pain, my friends. I also advise you not to grow out those patches, no matter how tempting the idea sounds in your head. It’s not fair that other men can grow full, attractive beards, but that still doesn’t make it all right for us to let our small and separated groups of facial hair run amok. A patchy beard looks like someone glued armpit hair in random spots on the face, and I have yet to meet anyone who can really pull that look off.
Despite all these years without a beard, I haven’t yet lost all hope. Perhaps my face has been going through some sort of decade-long hair drought, and next spring may mark its end and bring forth a wealth of beard hair. My voice still cracks from time to time, and I think I grew a little over the last two years — that means I haven’t quite lost all the symptoms of puberty, and more facial hair may be waiting in the shadows, ready to make its way out as soon as it hears the hormonal call for action.
Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll never be able to grow a full, handsome beard. Maybe I’ll never fulfill my own definition of a man. Or maybe I should just say “screw it” and let my patch beard fly. Whatever my facial-hair future may hold, at least I’m not going bald yet. That would suck.
Zack Poitras, a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences, is a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. He can be reached at [email protected].