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At 28, there’s still a small part of me waiting for puberty to finally kick in. Like many Asian men, the closest I’ve ever come to a five-o’clock shadow is when I’m leaving the office and the light hits the wall just so. I never really developed a respectable amount of facial hair, and nothing makes it more glaringly apparent than November, the cruelest month: Thanks to Movember, the Melbourne-founded global movement that encourages men all over the world to grow mustaches in support of men’s health programs combating prostate cancer, testicular cancer, and mental health challenges, I’m forced to confront my inability to grow a decent soup strainer every year.
Not being able to cultivate a grass grin is a problem many men face, not just Asians. It’s a gift as well as a curse, but feels only like the latter at a time when facial hair growth is so hot right now. It’s a reminder that if Movember were The Hunger Games, the odds are never in our favor. And these days, facial hair is a symbol of machoness more than ever. A recent study published in the journal Evolution &Human Behavior reported that women found men with ten-day "heavy" stubble most attractive and masculine. The men in the study ranked full beards at the top of the food chain, and the aforementioned ten-day beardos right after.
Meanwhile, Asians with facial hair are enough of a modern-day novelty that there is an entire website dedicated to documenting them. While there are definitely Asian mustache icons out there, like Manny Pacquiao’s pugilistic dirt squirrel, Genghis Khan’s barbaric near-goatee, and even Bruce Lee’s seldom-seen, highly formidable flavor saver (which I’m convinced he was forced to shave, lest he became too powerful—and obviously, so Chuck Norris’ beard could have a career), for me and many of my friends, our hair grows more like that of The Walking Dead’s Steven Yeun, who may or may not have slaved for days over the barely-there stubble in this Mr Porter editorial.
I’ve been there, Steven. If I don’t shave within two to three days, my upper lip starts to look like the place a balding rat decided to lie down and die, and turn into carbon. Letting my facial fur run rampant only results in overgrown peach fuzz rather than a fully evolved lip tickler. The worst are the errant hairs that exist in otherwise barren parts of my face—like, who the hell are you, and where did you come from? Growing a noticeable mustache isn’t impossible, but I need significantly more lead time than one month.
I tried out all sorts of urban legends in fruitless attempts to bolster my upper lipholstery. I shaved every day for a week because I heard my hair would grow back tenfold (and all I got was this gnarly case of razor burn). I applied Rogaine to my face, and it did nothing but burn (I wouldn’t wish that mistake on even my worst enemies). And while I’ve grown to accept my ’stache-less existence, Movember is an annual admonition that there’s a facial-haired hegemony that makes me and other men feel a bit marginalized. One look at Movember’s leaderboards outlines which countries are dominating the month, of the 21 countries listed, only Hong Kong and Singapore are located in Asia, while the others fall under the catchall, last-place category "rest of the world." The two countries at the top spots are Canada and the United States.
It wasn’t always this way in America. One thing this country’s founding fathers had in common? None of them had beards. The nineteenth century is when European and American authors began to espouse the benefits of facial hair. By the time Abraham Lincoln’s epic beard got into the Oval Office, beards, mustaches, and muttonchops galore had become the status quo for men. They weren’t just a trend, but had now been codified as symbols of masculinity, strength, and social order.
Most PopularBut old symbols of power don’t mean what they used to. Now, the CEO of a successful company isn’t in Gordon Gekko’s pinstriped power suits, he’s in Mark Zuckerberg’s jeans and a T-shirt. You can find hard-working Filson bags, flannel shirts, Levi’s 501s, and thick-soled boots on more avid followers of menswear blogs than you could on actual outdoorsmen. The mustache, however, occupies a strange space between alpha-male signifier (Tom Selleck) and alpha-male punchline (Ron Burgundy).
Perhaps then, Movember should think bigger.
Why limit their cause to just mustaches? Why not dedicate the month to helping men be better about their grooming habits? After all, shouldn’t an organization whose mission is to raise awareness to men’s health issues help promote men take better care of themselves? With the men’s grooming industry booming, it’d behoove the charitable entity—and the companies with tons of products made with guys in mind—to form strategic partnerships based around the idea of putting your best face forward, mustache or no. That way, facial hair can still play a part in the Movember motivation, but the attitude is more inclusionary to guys like myself who’d prefer not to let their ’stache flag fly.
Or, in the name of utter ridiculousness and like-minded events like the United Kingdom’s Armpits4August (which is essentially Movember for womens’ armpits), Movember could be a time when people are just encouraged to challenge social grooming norms in the name of charity. That’s the vibe that recently appointed "Mo Sista" Kate Upton seems to resonate with. "It’s more about the cause than the looks," she told us.
While I’m more than happy to raise awareness for men’s health issues, there are definitely more progressive ways to go about it than making the case for mustache growth. I know I’m not alone in needing much more than a month to grow some semblance of a cookie duster, but if you’re able, then by all means: Grow ’em if you got ’em. As for me, I’m sticking to my regular (fortnightly) shaving regimen... but I’m still celebrating Movember in a more than capable way. Now, speaking of playing to one’s strengths...who else is in for Unibrowvember?
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