Who's That Lebanese Man With A Beard: Hipster Or Jihadi?
Mazen Hariz is well-groomed. A bartender and business student, he has fine features, limpid dark eyes and a long, shiny beard topped with a twirling mustache.
He tends to his appearance meticulously.
"My beard is like my girlfriend," he says during a cigarette break from a shift at the Kayan bar in east Beirut.
It took seven months to grow, and needs 30 minutes of attention every morning. First, hot water, then shampoo, conditioner, blowout and then sometimes straighteners. But not too often because that's not good for the beard.
Girls like it, he says. But the Lebanese police at checkpoints, which have sprung up on his route to work, aren't so enthusiastic. He says cops stop him every day.
"They say, 'What's this, why do you have a beard?' " he says.
Lebanon is a small country, yet its social spectrum is broad. It ranges from cosmopolitan hipsters like Hariz to a very different tribe that's also fond of long beards: Islamist extremists, who've attacked the army and planted car bombs. Hariz says it's annoying that people assume he's an extremist because of his beard.
"Maybe I'll cut it," he says, reluctantly.
Many Tales Of Misunderstanding
It's a dilemma all over this trendy part of east Beirut. Fashionable beards flourish here, but their soaring style value coincided with a spate of jihadi attacks. On a stroll 'round the streets where these young bearded men go for beers, it seems everyone has a story of a misunderstanding.
Down the road, there's a live hip-hop night in full swing. The emcee — Hussein Sharafadine, aka Preacherman — is resplendent. He sports a plaid shirt with top button fastened, black-rimmed glasses, baseball cap — and a sheet of facial hair, a beard he's had since 1998. A beard he reckons all these newcomers have copied.
He loves it, but it has brought him trouble.
"My tale is the endgame of many, many, many tales and many run-ins with the so-called security forces in our country," he says.
At the beginning of this year he became notorious when he was arrested and a photograph of him in handcuffs circulated in the media.
"The cop put a gun in my head and told me, 'I'm gonna burn your beard,' " he says.
He was released without charge after an overnight detention. The Interior Ministry didn't respond to a request for comment on its policy toward bearded young men.
Sharafadine vows he'll never shave.
"I'm a man and I can grow my beard if I want to," he says. "I'm not stepping on anybody's toes. I'm not disrespecting anyone by growing a beard. I don't know, I love it, it's me."
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Transcript
ROBERT SIEGEL, HOST:
Now we're going to look at a place where hipster culture and world events collide - Lebanon. The hipster trademark, the long beard, is common the world over from Brooklyn to Beirut. Depending on whom you ask, long beards are cool, irksome or pretentious, but in Beirut sporting them can be misunderstood. NPR's Alice Fordham reports.
ALICE FORDHAM, BYLINE: Mazen Hariz is so well-groomed. A bartender and business student, he has fine features, limpid dark eyes and the most glorious of all - a long, shiny beard topped with a twirling mustache.
MAZEN HARIZ: My beard is like my girlfriend (laughter).
FORDHAM: It took seven months to grow old and needs half an hour's grooming every morning.
HARIZ: To make the beard like this, first hot water or like this and after shampoo and after conditioner...
FORDHAM: Then blowout, then sometimes straighteners but not too often because that's not good for the beard. Girls like it, but police checkpoints don't.
HARIZ: Every day I hear the police - what's this? Why do you have a beard?
FORDHAM: The problem is there are other people with long beards in Lebanon - the Islamist extremists who've attacked the army and planted car bombs. Hariz says it's so annoying how people assume he's a terrorist because of his beard.
HARIZ: Maybe I want to cut it - maybe.
FORDHAM: It's a dilemma all over this trendy part of East Beirut. Fashionable beards flourish here but their soaring style value coincided with a spate of jihadi attacks. Everyone's got a story of a misunderstanding.
Down the road there's a live hip-hop night in full swing. The emcee, Hussein Sharafadine aka Preacherman, is resplendent in a plaid shirt with top button fastened, black-rimmed glasses, baseball cap and a marvelous beard, a beard he's had since '98, a beard he reckons all these newcomers have copied.
He's had problems.
HUSSEIN SHARAFADINE: My tale is the end game of many, many, many tales and many, many run-ins with so-called security forces in our country.
FORDHAM: At the beginning of this year he became notorious when he was arrested and a photograph of him in handcuffs circulated in the media. How do you know it was because of the beard?
SHARAFADINE: Because the cop put the gun in my head and told me I'm going to burn your beard.
FORDHAM: They released him after an overnight detention. He vows he'll never shave it.
SHARAFADINE: I'm a man and I can grow my beard if I want to. I'm not stepping on anybody's toes. I'm not disrespecting anybody by growing a beard because it's me and I have to wear it. I don't know, I love it. You know? It's me, you know?
FORDHAM: And he heads back into the fashionable throng - beards and mustaches, vintage clothes, tattoos, until he's swallowed up by the red light of the bar and the next round of freestyle rapping with his friends.
Alice Fordham, NPR News, Beirut. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
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