Why I love the fauxhawk

My friend recently, as in today, wrote about the tragic hairstyle that is the fauxhawk. We were talking about it in person while he was writing, and it got me thinking why it is that I am so in love with fauxhawks. His beef with the style is that it’s a lazy, emo-man’s take on easy hair–no commitment to any one style, able to change in the blink of an eye or at least the swipe of a hairbrush. This of course logically led to the idea that if a person can’t commit to a hairstyle, then obviously he can’t commit to a doctrine.

However, if a hairstyle is commentary on commitment, what does it say about people who have actual, honest-to-god mohawks, resurrected from the punk era? What kind of commitment are you making when you, as a male, grow out your hair only to shave off a good three quarters of it then torture the rest into ridiculous, phallic, often wildly colored and highly gelled spikes sticking from your otherwise bare cranium? If we’re talking doctrine, I’m not sure I want that kind.

The fauxhawk is a softer, less abrasive, and certainly less risky commitment to beliefs. It shows flexibility, the desire to change, and the ability to blend in with a variety of situations. Wear a fauxhawk and be a rebel. Dye it and go to a rave. Brush it out and work in the office. Makes sense to me.

I don’t love the fauxhawk because I’m a fan of emo. Far from it. I hate emo. However, especially lately, I’ve found myself less turned off by the skinny jeans (not ass-tight, though), fitted shirts and sweaters (again, not ass-tight), and bizarre hair. Correction: when I say less turned off I mean that I see the potential to find appeal in a tamer version of this emo thing. And if that comes with the fauxhawk I’m okay with that. I love the fauxhawk because it isn’t the hardcore version of punk resistance.