I had a faux-hawk for a while and I used to buzz the sides and

In the lighthearted yet revealing words of Joe Jonas, we hear a truth that reaches beyond fashion and fame, into the eternal rhythm of youth and self-discovery: “I had a faux-hawk for a while and I used to buzz the sides and design it. It was really bad.” At first, these words may seem but a casual reflection on a hairstyle — a passing memory of trends and vanity. Yet beneath the laughter lies a deeper wisdom: the courage to experiment, the humility to admit imperfection, and the grace to grow beyond the past. For every generation must learn this lesson — that the path to authenticity is paved with bold mistakes, and that beauty often emerges from what once felt foolish.

The faux-hawk, that curious crest of rebellion, once symbolized the daring of youth — a mark of individuality carved into the canvas of conformity. By recalling it now with humor, Jonas reveals the heart of transformation. What he calls “really bad” is, in truth, a badge of his becoming — a symbol of those restless years when the spirit seeks to define itself, when the young must experiment to find what truly fits the soul. His words are not an apology but an acceptance, a recognition that even the awkward choices of the past are sacred steps on the journey toward wisdom.

In the ancient way, such reflections would not be dismissed as trivial. The philosophers of Greece and the poets of the East alike taught that self-knowledge is born from self-expression — that to know oneself, one must first dare to act, to err, and to learn. The youth who never experiments never discovers; the artist who never risks imperfection never creates. When Joe Jonas speaks of his ill-fated hairstyle, he is also speaking of the universal process of trial and transformation, the cycle through which every human being refines their identity. The faux-hawk, once a symbol of rebellion, becomes in hindsight a lesson in humility — a reminder that growth demands both courage and laughter.

Consider the story of Alexander the Great, who, in his youth, sought to imitate the heroes of old. He styled himself after Achilles, dressed in his image, and carried himself with the same fire. Many mocked him for his vanity, his flamboyant gestures, his dramatized sense of destiny. Yet in those very gestures — in that self-styled theater of youth — he forged the confidence that would one day conquer empires. Like Jonas’s faux-hawk, his youthful affectations were the soil from which greatness would bloom. Every foolishness of youth is a seed of self-realization, if only one is brave enough to look back and smile.

There is, too, a tenderness in Jonas’s reflection. By laughing at his younger self, he invites others to do the same — to forgive their past selves, to see not embarrassment but evidence of life. In an age obsessed with perfection, his honesty becomes an act of liberation. He reminds us that the path of becoming is messy and unpolished, and that to deny our imperfections is to deny our humanity. The great sculptor Michelangelo once said that he saw the angel in the marble and carved until he set it free. So it is with the soul: our youthful mistakes, our “bad” designs, are the rough edges that must be shaped by time and reflection until the truer form emerges.

In this way, the quote becomes not merely about a haircut, but about identity and evolution. The artist who once tried to design his own hair later learned to design his own music, his own path, his own life. What was once superficial experimentation became the foundation for deeper creativity. Jonas, like many before him, learned that the outer style is but a mirror of the inner journey — and that to refine one, one must understand the other. The laughter we direct toward our past selves is not mockery; it is gratitude. For without those experiments, we could not recognize who we have become.

Let this be the lesson for all who reflect upon their own “faux-hawk” moments — those memories of fashion, folly, or failed ambition. Do not hide them; honor them. They are the proof that you were alive, that you dared to be different, that you sought your own truth in a world that rewards imitation. From every awkward phase arises wisdom; from every misstep, direction. So look upon your past with gentleness, not regret. Laugh, as Joe Jonas laughs, and see in your old mistakes the spark of your present grace.

And so, my children, remember: the art of becoming is not the art of perfection. Follow your heart, even when it leads you into error, for in those errors you will find authenticity. Experiment boldly, and when the time comes, look back with humor and humility. For every “bad design” in your past is but the sketch of the masterpiece you are still creating — a reminder that growth is a divine comedy, and that every soul must first wear the costume of youth before donning the robe of wisdom.