Blog What this mustache taught me about being a woman

David Wolinsky: Chicago, I’ve been growing this mustache for a full month now, but it wasn’t until this weekend that I had a grand epiphany about it: The crop of ginger- and auburn-colored hair on my upper lip has been my gateway into womanhood. Hang on, wait. Maybe I should back up a little and explain first.

Last week I mentioned that my hair snake has become a social experiment of sorts. It’s become a major topic of discussion in every social situation. “Are you still doing that mustache thing?” people will ask, as if my mustachioed visage didn’t give it away. Then they’ll proceed to negatively evaluate it, completely disregarding that I’m growing it for charity, or whether I could actively do anything about the way it grows. Everyone’s a critic, even though, to date, I’ve raised a whopping $28 for the 826CHI writing center.

I got a haircut over the weekend and took the opportunity to talk to my barber about my face sweater. “Your face is too young for that,” she surmised, and then suggested that my Lithuanian lineage might be the reason for its unusual coloring. I know from recent experience that red hair is a big hit in Eastern Europe. During a vacation two years ago to Lithuania and Latvia—a land of notoriously fattening food and little to no sunshine—I saw scads of eerily skinny, fashionable women who had dyed their hair Soviet red. In my great-grandfather’s homeland, I’d probably be considered quite the dude. In America, it’s a way for other people to feel big about themselves by putting me down. My barber was so moved by my plight that she donated $3 out of her tip for my charitable efforts.

But not everyone is so understanding. The constant judging and evaluative looks has made me feel like a piece of meat. Like I’m not even a person. Women of America, I know how you feel, sisters. I know when you grow a mustache you feel like less of a woman, but I’m still right there with you—when I grow a mustache, I feel more like a woman. When this whole thing started, I thought it would be a glorious vacation for my face. I wouldn’t have to shave on an ongoing basis. I’d be embracing my power as a man. I was wrong. I’m instead embracing my power as a woman.

More specifically, I feel like a woman who’s recently had breast implants. I told people to expect an impending mustache on my face, and yet they’re still surprised to see this thing on my body. I’m surprised nobody has reached out, given my upper lip a firm squeeze and said, “Heyyy… not bad! You probably feel more confident about yourself, right? And feel more youthful?” That hasn’t happened, yet. What has happened, however, is the judges last night perceived my face scarf as a Henna tattoo—a submission for the prosthetic division’s assignment to make mustache-themed art. True, they only had that perception because I intentionally misled them, but it still took them a solid 10 seconds to determine whether my mustache is real or fake. The judges had to touch my mustache to see whether it was real or not—just like breast implants.

There’s one week left to go in this Moustache-A-Thon, and while Steve took the honors last week by actually winning, I’ve yet to gain any positive attention from the judges or my peers other than being called “creepy.” So, after this whole thing is over I’ll have a major life decision to make: Will I shave this off, forcing everyone I know to find a new topic of conversation with me, or will I move to the front of the proverbial bus and keep it, thereby ushering in major social change?

Steve Heisler: Here's my prediction: David takes home the gold next week. Judging by the judges', well, judging, it seems they like to spread the love around. There hasn't been a single repeat winner in the organic competition, nor has the same person even placed two weeks in a row.

As for the prosthetic competition, the same pattern has unfolded thus far, though I don't think the judges are doing it on purpose (too much…)—sure, different people seem to be winning each week, notably not me week one, but that's because my fellow prosthetic-ers are stepping up to the plate at different times.

This week was no exception. The challenge was to create, using "art," some mustache-related thing. As soon as I heard this, I had a vision of a mustache with two hand puppets attached to the ends. Since I'm not one to question these sorts of things, I wanted so badly to make it a reality—with felt and all. But I'm not what anyone would call artistic—at least of the "hands-on" variety. I'm a writer (and lover), not a fighter (or crafter). So rather than sewing these puppets, I made them out of brown lunch bags, and attached them to pieces of cut-up bag, which I taped to my face. Then, as the final bit of flash, I created a wire mustache out of bent-up paper clips, and trained myself—over the span of a few hours (of wasted work time)—how to use a piece of wire, attached to the stache, to flip it over the face of my puppet. Using one hand, which is inside the bag. Let me tell you, it's not easy, and it gets you weird looks from interns and bosses alike.

Steve Heisler takes it to the hoop.David Wolinsky

In my head, I thought the evening would go down like a straight-up performance, where everyone would be forced to look up at me. (Oh, the surprise on their faces, when I unveiled my parlor trick! How they would laugh! And hoist me over their shoulders!) Problem was, the usual haunt, The Globe, was packed for some sort of European sporting event. So we were relegated across the street to the Blue Stem, which is a nice place, sure, but lacked any sort of stage or PA system. I was forced to present my silent puppet show to the judges and a few onlookers, while other people talked in the background and ordered drinks. I didn't win, nor did I expect to.

The winner's piece, though, was awesome. She created a mustache mobile, complete with floating face sweaters and pictures of notable mustaches (including Hitler). Honorable mention went to my fellow "dude in the prosthetic competition," who created a men's room sign with a tiny little mustache on the face. Subtle, but really creative. Given that next week's challenge is something totally new—music—I have a feeling some neglected prosthetic growers will get their turn in the spotlight.

David Wolinsky