Amanda on Competitive Bearding: A Manly Miss America

I got conned into watching Whisker Wars after losing a bet to Dave. He insisted that I would like it. I watched the first episode with bitter reluctance, and then pretended I was still bitterly reluctant while watching the second, third, and fourth episodes, partly because I didn’t want Dave to know he was right, and partly because I wanted to be able to hold it over his head as something that I did even though I didn’t want to, which could maybe win me a back rub or two.

Competitive bearding is, at its core, a form of pageantry. Hairy, manly, beer-drenched pageantry but pageantry nonetheless. Yes, the intricate patterns of curls in these beards are often made with beer cans instead of curlers. But if you take a cupcake and ice it with Jack Daniels steak sauce, it is still a cupcake.

But this contrast is what makes the show sort of awesome. Bearded manly men walking around drinking beer does not make good television. Bearded manly men walking around drinking beer and taking turns hair-spraying and primping each other makes good television.

My gut revulsion to the show came from one of its stars: Jack Passion. Passion, who says things such as “I’m going to beat everyone and then spit on them,” turns bearding into a cast for his bruised ego. Does that mean that the entire culture is like this? No. In fact, James Moody, the hilarious “spiritual advisor” to the Austin Facial Hair Club, emphasizes the importance of the ying and yang of beards: in order to be a respectable beardsman, your “inner beard,” or attitude and sportsmanship, must be just as impressive as your outer beard.

And even if I totally hated the show, I might still watch it because of this guy:

Aarne Bielefeldt is the founding member of the Terminal Length Beard Club whose philosophy is to just “Let it Grow.” When Aarne suffered a string of losses and switched categories from Full Beard Natural to Freestyle, I came close to swearing off Whisker Wars for good. But even with his switch to the showier category, Aarne maintains his down-to-earth attitude, still wears outfits sewn by his wife, and still dons his adorable old man grin. My favorite moment of the series is when Aarne produces a collection of sepia photographs that he has taken of beards that inspire him, including one of his fellow competitor holding his daughter who, head-to-toe, is only a bit longer than his beard. Aarne says that he collects these pictures because they resonate with him emotionally. And who am I to discredit the value of something as heartfelt and innocent as that?