PROVO, Utah — The dark pants, tightly knotted ties and crisp white shirts that once defined the Mormon man are nearly absent at Brigham Young University, the Mormon school that dominates this city.  Instead, the young men crisscrossing this campus look a lot like everyone else: They wear skinny jeans and flannel tops, gym shorts and sweatshirts. They are preppy, sporty and hipster; buzzed, shaggy and mustachioed. Beards, however, remain few and far between.  This is because Brigham Young bans all chin hair (mustaches are fine), a rule set in place in the 1970s when school officials sought to distinguish their strait-laced students from the hippies staging demonstrations across the nation. And in recent years, even as beards have moved from hipster calling cards to mainstream accessories — and as the university has worked to hone its contemporary image — the beard ban has not budged.  In recent weeks, however, one student has begun a campaign to return the beard to Brigham Young, which has an enrollment of nearly 30,000 students. “We want the option and ability to express personality through facial hair,” said Shane Pittson, 23, a tall, blond, cleanshaven student whose goal is to have the administration consider a change at the end of the school year.  To Mr. Pittson and the hundreds of students who have signed his pro-beard petition, the rule is not only outdated but also out of step with the church’s efforts to promote a more diverse Mormon identity.  “There’s a certain buzz in the Mormon Church,” said Mr. Pittson, who recently led a bicycle-mounted protest through campus, with supporters wearing chin bristles fashioned from cardboard. “You can do your own thing and still be a Mormon.”  As proof, he pointed to the 19th-century church president for whom the school is named, a man who had quite the beard himself.  Mr. Pittson’s campaign began in September after he was forced to shave a beard he had grown over the summer. He created a website that called for the return of the beard, writing a letter in the voice of one. “I know you didn’t appreciate me hanging out with ‘the wrong crowd’ and protesting the Vietnam War and all,” the beard laments, “but I was honestly so hurt when you banned my presence.”  The effort seems to have hit a nerve at Brigham Young, which has spent decades balancing conservative ideals with contemporary appeal.  Not all the beard detractors are university officials. Isabelle Robinson, 21, a junior journalism student from London, defended the rule. “There’s some trends that we’re not going to partake in,” she said, seated at a table in the Wilkinson Student Center. “We’re not going to partake in the short-shorts, the miniskirts, that’s just not our thing.”  A few tables away, however, Clarke Blackham, 23, a senior graphic design student who spent the summer working in Manhattan, mourned the facial hair he had been forced to shave. “It just fit my personality: creative, trying to be a little different than everyone else,” he said. “Is it time now to change? I think so.”  Brigham Young, founded in 1875, is the flagship academic institution of the Mormon Church. A central focus of the school’s identity is an honor code that dates to the 1940s, which requires honesty and prohibits cursing, alcohol and premarital sex.  For almost a century, beards were a part of campus life, and male students often participated in a yearly tradition: a three-week beard-growing contest that concluded with prizes for the handsomest and heaviest growths.  In the 1960s, however, turmoil at other universities pushed the school’s president, Ernest L. Wilkinson, to wage an aggressive campaign reaffirming his institution’s conservative identity. In one often-quoted address, he told the student body there was “no place at B.Y.U. for the grimy, sandaled, tight-fitted, ragged-Levi beatnik.”  By the 1970s, grooming standards — no short skirts for women, no long hair or beards for men — were enshrined in the honor code, which was meant to ensure that students exuded modesty and spiritual cleanliness.  “This is just how we’ve chosen to represent ourselves,” said Carri P. Jenkins, a university spokeswoman. “We understand this might not be for everyone.”  Over time, school officials have shown a willingness to relax the dress code as standards of modesty have changed. Jeans got the go-ahead in 1981. Shorts were permitted a decade later. And mustaches have always been acceptable. Ms. Jenkins declined to explain why the school treated them differently than beards.  The beard prohibition, as well as other elements of the dress code, are enforced by the students and the university employees. A stubble-chinned student may be able to walk freely on campus, but if he tries to check out a book, enter the gym or take a test, he may be turned away. (The rules are stricter in some places on campus than in others.)  University officials grant exceptions to students who can prove they have a medical condition that makes shaving difficult or dangerous. Austin Papritz, 23, a senior who has Crohn’s disease, was given an exception after explaining that nicks could be harmful. He and others who gain such permission have their student identification cards stamped with an upside-down triangle framing the letters “B.E.,” for “beard exception.”  Anyone else is out of luck.  Hammad Javed, 20, is one of about two dozen Muslim men on campus, many of whom attend the university because they are attracted to its conservative values. As a teenager, Mr. Javed had grown a beard, taking a religious vow to never remove it. It is a promise made by some, but not all, Muslim men, intended to help them emulate the actions of the Prophet Muhammad.  But last year, when Mr. Javed arrived here from Pakistan, he learned he would have to get rid of his beard if he wanted access to many campus facilities, including the library. Faced with such a predicament, he did the only thing he thought possible: He shaved.  “Of course it was hard,” said Mr. Javed, the president of Muslim Students Association. “For students who have a religious reason to have a beard, they should revisit it.”  The university’s spokeswoman, Ms. Jenkins, said it makes its policy clear to Muslims during the application process. “He would have known all the standards before ever even enrolling in the university,” she said.  For some students, remaining cleanshaven is a challenge. Evan Hughes, a 23-year-old senior, has curly, reddish-brown hair that grows quickly — even on his chin. He said that his second-day stubble has caused him to be asked to leave administrative offices, intramural soccer and basketball games, and at least three exams.  Last year, Mr. Hughes said, he was refused entry to a midterm exam after he was deemed excessively hairy. (The proctor first offered him the use of a razor fished from her desk, but he refused.)  “It’s a huge waste of time,” Mr. Hughes said of the beard ban. Brigham Young, he said, “is a very modern university, it’s a very prestigious university.”  “It’s well known for its business school, its law school,” he continued.  The rule, he said, “just doesn’t fit.”  A version of this article appears in print on November 18, 2014, on page A17 of the New York edition with the headline: Campaigning to Change the Cleanshaven Look. Order Reprints|Today's Paper|Subscribe
A student petition is urging university officials to repeal a decades-old ban on beards on the campus of the Mormon Church’s flagship academic institution.