Some kids are born to crawl. Some are born to walk.
Whitaker? He was born to mullet.

Legend has it, the day he got his first haircut, he locked eyes with the mirror, nodded slowly, and whispered, “Leave the back.” From that moment on, hair-story was made.

This isn’t just a haircut. It’s a lifestyle. It’s four-year-old confidence with the strut of a country music backup dancer and the soul of a small-town mechanic who moonlights as a monster truck announcer.

Whitaker’s mullet has been crimped like a disco queen, braided like a Caribbean pirate, and once even stuck straight up after a slide ride so electric it defied gravity and logic. Birds have landed nearby just to admire its plumage.

At weddings, he’s not the ring bearer—he’s the vibe curator. At playgrounds, the slide doesn’t begin until the mullet says it does. He’s part myth, part mischief, and 100% party in the back.

So why should Whitaker win? Because he’s not just wearing a mullet. He’s living it—one epic swoosh at a time.

And frankly, America needs a hero right now. A hero… with a neck cape.