"It Was The Beard of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times"

This week I wanted to share with everyone a touching story of a man and his beard. I asked a friend of mine to write about his love for his beard and the tragic loss of his beard. I hope you are as moved as I was.


-beard<3r




"It Was The Beard of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times" 


When I hear the word beard,words like horror, inequality, prejudice, and nostalgia flood my mind. One might ask, “how could such an amazing word such as a beard have that effect?” Well simply put: Beard-ism. Beard-ism as defined by the brotherhood of former beard wearers, is unwanted prejudice towards men with thick, illustrious beards. I am a victim of Beard-ism. As a 21 year old man, I struggled for the greater portion of my life to nurture a thick, beautiful, soft, sexually appealing beard. Looking up to those around me with immaculate beards. I imitated them, admired them, I wanted to be them. However as the heavens so rarely do,they shined their light upon me and blessed me with the ability. I had the beard I'd always wanted. To top it all off, it was red, showing off my deep Irish heritage. Nothing could stop me now, I had the three B's; Beard, Brains, and Balls. I got complements regularly on my amazing beard-age. My beard made me infinitely more attractive to women, it made me appear smart, thoughtful and versed. I loved my beard. I combed and shampooed it everyday. Sometimes I went on walks just to give my beard fresh air. My beard wasn't just hair on my face, it was an appendage. Part of my ever-evolving identity.

So I guess now is the part in the story where I explain how I encountered Beard-ism. Let me start by establishing a few fundamental elements. I am no longer attractive to women, I no longer appear Intelligent, or thoughtful, or versed. I no longer buy shampoo for my beard, I gave my coveted beard comb away. I am an amputee. Why you ask? Well as a transferring Junior in college, I needed a new job. Campus jobs were filled, so I had to look elsewhere. I walked into a well known Sub Shop to apply. The manager, loved my personality and hired me on the spot. After being hired, I stood in the lobby going over the details with my new manager. Wearing an old ratty punk rock shirt, cut off dress slack shorts, 5 year old converse, and tattoo's all over my left arm, I stood waiting to be told, I'd have to wear pants, and long sleeves. What I got was exponentially worse and horribly unexpected. He said, “You're going to have to knock that beard off.” Still in shock form this statement, I shook his hand and accepted the job. I walked to my old Mini-Van, got in, lit a cigarette, and then it hit me... I had to kill my baby. I went through the normal stages of grief. I thought to myself, I can just not shave, he won't notice. Then I got depressed, I bargained with myself; “you can make it with no money, at least you'll have your beard.” Then, I got angry. I thought this is discrimination. This is America for Christ's sake, if I want a beard I have the right to have one, MY BEARD HAS FEELINGS TOO! At that moment I knew I had been the victim of unspeakable abuses. So like any other normal American, I took to the internet to find others who had suffered under the same oppression I was currently dealing with. That's when I discovered I had been the victim of Beard-ism. 

I'm not sure if my life will ever return to the way it was before that unforgettable day. Although as long as I have the right to freedom of expression, I will fight for Beard Rights. One would think that in a society where, gay sex with boys, gets swept under the rug, that a lowly Sub Shop worker could have a beard. As for me, now, I have a dream. A dream that one day, I will again walk the city streets of Charlotte North Carolina, Bearded and Proud! I will never give up hope! 

Remember folks, in bad cases... Beard-ism kills.



Joshua Haney